LITMIR.BIZ

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made it sound as though she’d invaded MacEgan’s bedchamber with the intent of deflowering him. Her cheeks burned brighter at the memory of his strong, naked body. Ewan had never looked like that as an adolescent. But now … Her body tightened at the memory of his kiss. Her fingernails dug into her wrists as she fought to subdue the thought.

      ‘Is it your intention to remarry?’ her father was asking.

      ‘No!’ she blurted out. Hadn’t she endured marriage once before? Her husband, Ranulf, hadn’t lived for more than a year, praise be. And, God willing, she would never have another husband.

      Her father steepled his hands. ‘I thought Ranulf would be a good husband for you, that he would provide you with a comfortable home. None of us expected him to die so soon.’

      Honora didn’t admit she was glad Ranulf was dead. But why would Nicholas think she’d want another husband? There was no need.

      She crossed herself, in a half-hearted gesture of forgiveness. ‘I don’t want to wed again.’

      Nicholas regarded her with a serious expression. ‘You cannot remain here forever, Honora. It’s been half a year since you left Ceredys.’

      And yet, it didn’t seem long enough. Her shoulders lowered, the guilt bearing down on her.

      ‘One third of Ranulf’s estate belongs to you by law,’ Nicholas continued, narrowing his gaze at her. ‘A pity you didn’t have any sons of your own. You’d have gotten more.’

      And thank Heaven for that. She wanted no son of Ceredys blood, no permanent reminder of Ranulf St Leger. Her husband had left most of the land to his son John, who was born of a former marriage.

      Like a serpent John was, sleek and deceptive. She shivered at the memory. He could have her third of the estate and her dowry land, if it meant getting rid of him.

      She blamed herself for what had happened at Ceredys. Even with the influence of John’s grandmother Marie St Leger, she’d been unable to stop him from stripping away every last penny of rents from the villagers.

      What kind of a warrior could she call herself, if she let her people endure such a fate? Time had slipped away from her, and she still had not managed to conceive of a suitable plan.

      ‘How much longer do you intend to hide behind my walls?’ her father asked softly.

      ‘I’m not hiding.’

      He cast a look that said he didn’t believe her.

      ‘I will go back,’ she said quietly. ‘Soon enough.’ If John were removed from power, she could try to repair the damage he’d done. But she couldn’t overthrow him without help. ‘I would ask you again, to lend me soldiers.’

      ‘No. It isn’t my place, nor yours, to meddle with John’s … difficulties at Ceredys.’

      ‘He’s robbed them of their food,’ she protested. ‘You cannot stand by and do nothing. There are innocent folk suffering from what he’s done.’

      His expression hardened. ‘Then perhaps you should marry a man with an army.’

      Honora expelled a sigh of frustration, shaking her head. She would find a way to help them without relying upon another man.

      Nicholas continued on, oblivious to her refusal. ‘It would be the sensible thing to do. You’re young enough to bear many sons.’

      Honora reached to her side, but she’d forgotten her dagger wasn’t there. Squeezing the grip usually brought her comfort, but she doubted if anything could calm the temper rising this time.

      ‘Father, please.’ She closed her eyes, wishing there was some way to make him understand. ‘I need time.’

      She would not marry again. Never could she forget the ten months of hell she’d suffered, nor the months afterwards of avoiding John.

      ‘You’re not getting any younger. And if you want any children at all, you’ve no choice.’

      Honora swallowed, not facing her father. The idea of bearing a child terrified her. She hadn’t made a good wife—why would she expect to be a good mother?

      Her father didn’t seem to notice her silence. ‘No, I believe it is God’s will, Honora. I chose poorly for your first husband. For the second, I’ll allow you to choose. You may select first from among the suitors here.’

      ‘But those men are here for Katherine!’ she protested. Did he expect them to simply change their minds? It would never happen. She knew what she was. A woman who was far too impulsive, too impatient to be a wife. She didn’t care about the household accounts or about mending clothing. Her interests lay in the castle defences and whether or not the men were well trained.

      Her hands reached around her waist, as though holding back herself. Asking her to wed again meant facing that humiliation once more, of being an unworthy wife.

      ‘I won’t do it,’ she said softly.

      Nicholas sighed, refilling his tankard with ale. ‘All you need is a real man in your bed and a babe swelling beneath your skirts. Then you’ll be happy.’

      A real man in her bed? She ground her teeth, longing to tell him just how she felt about that. What did her father know about choosing the right man for her?

      Nothing at all. He’d married her off to the first man who’d asked. Her stomach soured at the memory of the disastrous marriage.

      ‘You cannot force me to marry.’

      ‘No, but I can force you to return to Ceredys.’ Nicholas drained his cup, confident in his decision. ‘You are of little use to me here. You’ve an estate of your own to manage.’

      She didn’t argue that she’d never been allowed to manage any part of Ceredys. She’d been more of a prisoner than a wife.

      ‘But I am not without a heart, Honora,’ her father went on. ‘If you have your eye upon someone, I can arrange your marriage sooner than Katherine’s. Ewan MacEgan, perhaps?’ A smug look crossed Nicholas’s face.

      ‘Never.’ The denial ripped from her mouth without a second’s hesitation. Ewan was here for Katherine. He didn’t even like her, not after all she’d done to him while they were fostered together. ‘As I told you, I didn’t mean to be in his room. It was an accident.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Her father did not appear convinced. ‘Well, there are seven other men, all of them from noble families.’

      He truly wasn’t listening to her, was he? She tried another tack. ‘Even if I did agree to remarry, my inheritance complicates matters. A new husband would have to dwell alongside John, else he’d have to surrender the land entirely.’

      And she’d rather die than live with John St Leger again.

      ‘True enough. But that’s the way of marriage, isn’t it? I married your mother for her estates here and in Normandy.’

      ‘I married once for duty. I won’t do it again.’ Honora set her mouth in a firm line.

      Her father’s face darkened, and he puffed up with his own obstinacy. ‘Aye, you will. For I’ll not let Katherine wed until you do.’

      Had he struck her in the throat, she could not have been more stunned. Why would he do this? What could he hope to gain from it?

      ‘That isn’t fair.’ She spoke quietly, feigning the gentle quality he preferred. But inwardly, she was raging.

      ‘I am hosting a feast on the morrow,’ her father commented. ‘I expect you to be there. There will be a tournament, and the suitors will compete for your entertainment.’

      Oh, Jesu. Not that. She had no desire to look like a fool while the suitors fawned over her sister. Was she supposed to sit beside Katherine on a dais, hoping that a man would ask for her favour? Perhaps one man would show pity.

      She

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