Taming Her Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  He exerted pressure against her blade, trying to disarm her. ‘I thought the Lady Katherine might be useful in coaxing you home to Ceredys. It seems there was no need.’

  Honora stepped backwards onto the sand. John swung hard, and she blocked his blow. He tried to force her blade away, but she held steady, her muscles tight. ‘Let my sister go,’ she commanded.

  ‘Oh, she’ll not be harmed, so long as she obeys.’ He glanced towards Katherine, his expression hard. ‘And so long as you show me the location of the treasure.’

  ‘You don’t know that it exists.’

  ‘The ruby is proof of that, though you tried to steal it from me.’ He lunged forwards, pressing his blade close to hers. ‘But that isn’t the only reason I want you at Ceredys.’

  His eyes grew hooded with unspoken desire. It made her skin crawl, the way he seemed to touch her with his gaze. ‘You could also do with a lesson on how to obey a man.’

  ‘I am not in the habit of obedience,’ Honora gritted out.

  ‘Nor in womanly pursuits, it seems.’ His sword struck hers once again, aggressively seeking a weakness. Honora met each blow with her own parry.

  Though this fight went on longer than the last, she took satisfaction that she was not tiring beneath the onslaught. Over and over, her blade struck his, while Ewan watched.

  He had stepped aside, letting her be the warrior she was. And, by God, giving her this chance to fight made her love him even more.

  When John tried again to use his strength to disarm her, Honora leaned hard against his sword, forcing his weight sideways before she tripped him to the sand. His stunned expression made her seize the advantage. He tried to roll away, but she pinned him, her blade resting against his throat.

  For a hard moment, she stared at him. This was the moment she had trained for, the chance to free her people. One slice was all it would take to end his life.

  She stared into his eyes, this man she wanted to kill. And still she didn’t move.

  ‘Honora,’ Ewan said softly. In his voice she sensed his silent support. And that he would finish what she could not.

  John smiled. And seconds later, a handful of sand struck her eyes, burning and blinding her. He backhanded her face, and she saw stars. Out of instinct, Honora guarded her eyes, her hand reaching out to defend an unseen blow. Then suddenly, Ewan’s sword struck John’s, and the two men grappled together. She cried out, trying to clear the grit from her eyes.

  With his shoulder dislocated, Ewan could only fight left-handed. Honora raced into the shallow water, scooping it into her eyes to wash the sand free. When her vision eased, she ran back to assist him.

  She was too late. John had him trapped, a knife pointed at Ewan’s bared throat.

  ‘You can save his life, Honora,’ he whispered. ‘Find the treasure I’ve been seeking. Bring it to me.’

  ‘There is no treasure.’

  John stared at her, his eyes mad, disbelieving her words. ‘Bring it to me, or I kill him now.’

  Ewan’s shoulder burned with a vicious pain. Where the hell was Trahern? Was he off telling stories instead of recruiting fighters? The blade was tight against his throat, and he sensed that John was going to kill him anyway, regardless of what he’d promised Honora.

  Ewan glanced over at Bres. The young man’s face was crimson, his breathing laboured. An arrow stuck out from his ribcage; not a mortal wound, but he was of no use to them. Conand lay unmoving, the sand stained red beneath him. Ewan prayed the man wasn’t dead, but he could not be sure.

  Damn it, if he could just pop his shoulder back into place, he could bring Ceredys down. As it was, he had no movement in his right arm.

  Ewan could see Honora’s mind working rapidly, as she moved closer to John. He didn’t like the look in her eyes; she was up to something.

  ‘What if I find nothing?’ she whispered to John. Her hand reached out to touch the Baron’s shoulder, moving downwards. An involuntary growl emitted from Ewan’s throat. What the hell was Honora doing? If he were able to move, he’d wrench her away from the bastard.

  ‘Promise me you won’t harm him.’

  John’s breathing quickened. ‘I might allow you to bargain for his life. With your body.’

  Ewan could feel her reaching to John, and though he could not fathom her purpose, his jealousy reared out of control. ‘Don’t, Honora.’

  Honora sent him a warning look, but her hands released John. What in the name of God was she trying to do?

  With no answer to the question, she stepped backwards towards the sandbar. In the distance, a storm was rolling in, the dark waves tipped white.

  Her foot slipped, and she stepped into a patch of quicksand. Throwing her body sideways, the shallow wave soaked her, but she managed to elude the death trap.

  Ewan started to breathe again when she regained solid footing. Honora didn’t need to be taking such chances, not on a treasure she wouldn’t find. He couldn’t understand what her intentions were, but the danger was unacceptable.

  ‘You don’t have much time,’ Ceredys warned. ‘The tide is coming in.’

  Honora made no reply, walking towards a strange stone outcropping. Recognising the bird shape, Ewan wondered what she’d found. She knelt in front of it, digging further. Her hands disappeared as she reached inside an opening.

  ‘Did you lie with Honora?’ John asked softly.

  Ewan drove his elbow into the Baron’s gut, and in return a burning sensation sliced his throat. Warm blood dripped down the chainmail he wore.

  ‘I can see that you did.’ John lifted the blade again. ‘I should kill you for it. She belongs to me.’

  Before he could break free of the Baron’s grasp, Honora cried out in triumph. The tide was moving closer, the waves now reaching her ankles. Within moments, her knees were covered by the water.

  Too fast. He’d never seen a tide move in that quickly.

  ‘Honora, get out of there!’ Ewan warned.

  But she kept pouring handfuls of something hidden into a sack at her waist. He didn’t trust it. It was too simple. Was she trying to trick John by filling the sack with sand and rocks? Or had she truly found something?

  ‘Bring it to me,’ John commanded.

  Honora trudged through the sand, trying to reach the shoreline before the tide came in. More than once, she stumbled, while the water had risen up to her waist.

  She stood a few paces from Ewan, her body soaked, her teeth chattering. ‘I have the treasure. Now let him go.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ John tightened his grasp, the point of his dagger sharp against Ewan’s throat. ‘Show it to me.’

  As surely as he knew he was about to die, Ewan believed Honora had nothing but sand inside the sack. Though he didn’t fear his own death, Ewan couldn’t allow the Baron to take Honora prisoner again. And he didn’t know how to save her.

  Honora’s hesitation only infuriated the Baron. ‘I said show it to me!’

  With a broken expression, Honora whispered, ‘I am sorry, Ewan.’ She reached into the bag and withdrew a handful of silver coins. They slid from her fingers, and in that moment, the blade eased from his throat.

  Ewan gripped the Baron’s arm, twisting the knife away. He heard a bone crack, and John grasped his wrist, howling in pain.

  Ewan lunged for the bag of silver. ‘No, wait!’ Honora protested. But he ignored her, using his left hand to hurl the silver into the sea. Then he pulled Honora to him, grasping his sword in his left hand.

  John stared hard at him. And seconds later, he rushed after the silver coins.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ewan let out a hiss when Honora embraced him tightly. ‘Help me with this shoulder, Honora.’

  She winced, as though she’d rather tear her own arm off, rather than cause him pain.

  ‘Do it quickly,’ he ordered. Bracing himself, he focused his attention on John while she bent his elbow inward and then back again. When the shoulder would not move, he groaned with the wave of agony
that radiated through him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she fretted, moving his elbow once again.

  ‘Just finish it.’ He bit his lip until he tasted blood. Honora bent his elbow back sideways until he nearly passed out from the pain. At last, he heard an audible pop, and his shoulder slid back into its socket.

  The Baron was clawing at the water, searching for the bag he’d thrown. The waves had risen higher, covering up the sandbar.

  Ewan held Honora in his arms, watching as John searched for the treasure. ‘You didn’t have to throw it into the sea,’ she whispered.

  ‘Your life is worth more to me than any treasure.’ He pressed a kiss against her brow. ‘Let it go, Honora.’

  ‘But, you don’t understand—’

  She was cut off by the murmuring of voices upon the hillside. Trahern approached on horseback with a gathering of men and women behind him. The men looked murderous, with weapons of every sort in their hands. Knives, sickles, even hammers were grasped in their fists while the women hung behind.

  As a group, they advanced down the pathway, and behind them was Honora’s father, Lord Ardennes. The Baron was filthy, his hair matted. In his hands he carried a sword, and he brought up the last of the people with his own army.

  The two guards holding Katherine clenched their weapons, eyeing John for his orders.

  ‘Kill her,’ John snarled over the din of the waves. Honora jerked, her gaze terrified. Ewan raced towards her sister, even as he feared he wouldn’t make it in time. Honora followed behind him, her own sword in hand.

  The guard held Katherine with both arms across her shoulders. The other soldier lifted his own dagger. With her hands bound in front of her, Katherine could do nothing.

  Then a figure appeared above the hillside. Sir Ademar dismounted from his horse, roaring, ‘Katherine, the sword!’

  Katherine struggled against the soldier, bashing her head against his nose. Grasping his sword with her bound hands, she unsheathed the heavy weapon.

  Ewan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Gentle Katherine swung the soldier’s sword against two attackers. She shouldn’t have been strong enough to lift the weapon, but she moved with the same lethal swiftness as Honora. Even with her hands still bound.

  When he and Honora arrived at her side, Ewan finished the fight, killing both soldiers. Honora could only stare at her sister. ‘I never knew. All this time, and you never once spoke of it.’

  Katherine managed a weak smile. ‘You weren’t the only one who learned to wield a sword. I knew that one day you’d do something foolish. Someone had to protect you.’

  ‘That night…in the chapel,’ Honora breathed. ‘It was you. You defended me against John’s man.’

  ‘I did.’ Katherine lowered the weapon, but did not relinquish the hilt. ‘I saw you leave our room, and I knew someone had been searching your belongings.’

  Sir Ademar reached Katherine at last, his face rigid with fury and fear. ‘Katherine,’ he breathed. He embraced her tightly, touching her hair, her face, to ensure she was all right.

  ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  Ewan exchanged a glance with Honora as the pair kissed, murmuring softly to each other. Honora squeezed his hand. ‘I am glad for them.’

  ‘It’s not over yet.’ Ewan gestured towards the sea, where John stood, immersed up to his chest in water. In his hands, he held a dripping sack. And his face held dark fury.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find it, bitch?’ He strode towards the edge of the beach, but the people of Ceredys blocked his path.

  Incredulous, John raised his sword. ‘I am your overlord. Let me pass.’

  Before he could move, one of the larger men smashed a wooden hammer into John’s face. ‘You violated my wife, damn you to hell!’

  Enraged, John slashed his weapon down, blood pouring from his nose. Trahern stepped forwards and blocked the sword with his shield. The fight was short-lived, for Trahern disarmed him within moments.

  The people of Ceredys closed in. Grimly, another man lifted John up, tossing him backwards into the tide. The weight of his armour pulled him down, and Ceredys scrambled to regain his footing.

  A wave crashed into him from behind, knocking him down. Though his head bobbed up, another wave sent John slamming against the large rock. When the water receded, blood stained the surface of the stone.

  Ceredys did not rise again.

  Honora stood before Ewan, about to become his bride. Upon her head, she wore a crown of hawthorn flowers. The light scent mingled with the beeswax candles, and she was both nervous and overjoyed to be at his side.

  They were surrounded by family—all of the MacEgan brothers and their wives, children and foster-children chattering eagerly. Even her father stood witness, his face sombre as they stood before the priest. Nicholas had reluctantly offered his apology for his earlier stubbornness, and Honora had thanked him for bringing his own army against John’s forces back at Ceredys only a month ago. Despite his gruff demeanour, he admitted that he’d never wanted harm to come to either her or her sister.

  Katherine had already married Sir Ademar, and both of them had accompanied Nicholas to the wedding, her sister nearly floating with happiness.

  Ewan held her hand as they murmured their vows. And when the priest bade him give her a kiss of peace, Honora’s knees wobbled at the heated embrace her new husband gave her. At the end of the Mass, Genevieve’s newborn daughter gave a lusty cry.

  ‘We should go and make one of those,’ Ewan whispered beneath his breath.

  The blood seemed to drain from her head at the thought of motherhood, but Honora managed a laugh. Ewan swept her up into his arms, ignoring the crowds as he took her back to their own private chamber within Laochre Castle, where a soft bed awaited them.

  Their belongings littered the floor, for Ewan had been so eager to wed her, they would return to his own dwelling on the morrow.

  He undressed her slowly, each layer of clothing falling away. The warmth of the fire kept the stone chamber warm, and new spring rushes lined the wooden floors. Honora opened her arms to him, a smile upon her face. A secret swelled inside her, and the need to tell him was nearly bursting.

  ‘I am going to give you a castle like this,’ Ewan swore. ‘One day. No matter how many years it takes.’

  She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I don’t need a castle, Ewan.’

  ‘I would lay the world at your feet, if I could.’ His expression was so serious, so intent, that she held him tightly, resting her cheek against his heart. ‘But none of it means anything without you. If you’re with me, I could live inside a stable and be happy.’

  Ewan stroked her hair, his breath against her ear. ‘Although…I wouldn’t have minded if we had found the treasure before John lost it.’

  ‘He lost nothing,’ Honora said. ‘When you cast the treasure into the water, it was nothing but a bag full of stones and sand I picked up off the beach.’

  He drew back, frowning. ‘But there were silver coins. I saw them.’

  Honora sent him a cheeky grin. ‘I picked John’s pocket when he was holding you prisoner. The only coins lost were his own. I knew he wouldn’t believe me unless he saw it for himself.’

  ‘I wed a woman of great intelligence,’ he remarked, kissing her again.

  ‘Yes, you did. And I believe you are wearing too many clothes,’ Honora said, stripping away his tunic and trews, until they stood naked together. She ran her hands over the firm muscles, replacing each touch with a kiss. Lower still, she moved, over his stomach and down to his hardened manhood. With her hand she stroked it, eliciting a groan of response.

  The power of showing him how much she loved him was intoxicating. So much, that she nearly lost sight of her purpose.

  Tell him now, her conscience urged. The excitement rose up inside her.

  ‘I have something for you,’ she said seductively, taking his hand.

  ‘Do you, now?’ Ewan followed her over to th
e bed, where Honora brought out the small chest Marie St Leger had once given her.

  ‘It’s my wedding gift to you,’ she said, holding it out to him. ‘But you’ll have to earn it.’

  He opened the chest and saw hundreds of multi-coloured precious stones. Emeralds, rubies and sapphires gleamed amid a small pile of gold.

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  Honora beamed. ‘Remember when I was searching for the treasure along the bay, near the bird-shaped stone? I happened to look back at the shore.’ Her expression turned chagrined. ‘It wasn’t so difficult to find. The shrubbery upon the hillside is shaped like a spiral. And in the centre of the spiral, I dug up the chest.’

  She reached in and picked up a handful of gems. ‘Marie wanted me to have it, Ewan. It was her gift, and with it, I’m going to give you the kingdom you always wanted. Patrick has the rest of it. It’s enough for a lifetime.’

  He started to shake his head, but she put a finger to his lips. ‘I know you’re too proud to accept it, but trust me. You’ll be earning every last stone and every coin.’

  Lying back against the bed, she placed the gemstones upon her body. With a wicked smile, she added, ‘Come and get them, Ewan.’

  Ewan picked her up, letting the stones fall to the coverlet. ‘Later, perhaps. After I’ve made love to you.’

  His hot mouth roamed over her throat, pressing endless kisses upon it. ‘You are my greatest treasure, Honora. Not a handful of stones.’

  He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, shocked when he sank deep within her. His mouth covered her puckered nipple, sucking hard until she trembled in his arms. ‘Take them, Ewan. And me.’

  Over and over, he penetrated her, urging her closer to a release. ‘The treasure is yours, to do with as you will,’ he said. ‘Just as I am yours.’

  Honora clung to him, her body going liquid. Flesh to flesh, becoming one body, she arched her spine. He grabbed her bottom, lifting her against him, pounding until she shattered in his arms.