Honora’s cheeks flamed. Her father made it sound as though she were an afterthought, a woman taken as a consolation prize.
She reached out and clenched the pommel of her dagger. It shouldn’t matter whether Ewan wed Katherine or not. Why should she be anything but happy for her sister? She certainly didn’t want Ewan for herself.
More than ever, she wanted to leave behind this tournament, to hide in the armoury or in the stables. Her unsettled future made it impossible to do anything else but worry. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on finding the thief, ever since her father’s suggestion that she marry. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
She made her excuses, claiming she needed a moment to take care of her personal needs.
‘Return within a few minutes,’ Nicholas warned. ‘The sword fighting will be the last competition, and I expect you to be present.’
The glint in her father’s eyes made it clear that he would brook no arguments. Sometimes she wondered if he secretly knew about her sword fighting skills. She’d been careful never to let him see, for he would not understand her need to excel in swordplay. But, nevertheless, there were times when his gaze appeared all too knowing.
She promised to return soon. Skirting the edge of the crowd, she came face to face with Sir Ademar.
‘My lady,’ he greeted her, bowing.
She leaned up to study the knight. Though exceptionally tall, his face was pleasing enough to look at. With light blond hair and dark blue eyes, he had a Norse look about him. Sir Ademar was one of the stronger fighters, and she’d seen him defeat many a man in combat. He was very quiet, however, and rarely spoke to anyone.
‘Sir Ademar.’ Honora nodded in greeting and tried to move around him.
‘Might I—?’ He stopped, as if gathering his thoughts. ‘M-might I speak with you a moment, Lady Honora?’
His face coloured at his stammer, but he forced himself to continue. ‘Your father tells me that … y-you are planning to remarry.’
Not really, she wanted to say. Instead, she responded, ‘It is his wish, yes. I have not decided whether or not I will.’
‘I would be most … most honoured if you would c-consider me as a potential husband.’ Sir Ademar stared down at the grass, embarrassed at his awkward speech. Honora didn’t know if it was nerves or whether he always had difficulty speaking. But this was the first time any man had openly declared an interest. She could not have been more startled.
‘You flatter me,’ she managed. ‘But weren’t you courting my sister?’
His face fell, turning morose. Venturing a chagrined smile, he managed, ‘She … she would never consider a man like me.’
Wouldn’t she? Honora wasn’t so sure. But then, Katherine seemed taken with Ewan MacEgan, so possibly Sir Ademar was right. A touch of sympathy caught her by surprise.
Though she couldn’t be certain why she did it, Honora untied a blue ribbon from her hair and gave it to him. ‘Here. Take this when you go to fight.’
Sir Ademar tied it around his arm, the small bit of silk contrasting against the chainmail armour he wore. A faint smile perked at his mouth, as though he couldn’t believe what she’d just done.
Honora could hardly believe it herself. But his clumsy offer had touched her somehow.
‘God grant that I … may be victorious in this … next ch-challenge.’ The pride in his voice made her smile, and he didn’t seem quite so intimidating.
‘I bid you good fortune.’ And she was surprised to discover she meant it.
A horn resounded, and Sir Ademar bowed, exiting towards the fighting arena. Alone, she stood back while the men readied themselves for the last challenge.
When she saw Sir Ademar’s opponent, Honora’s smile fell. It was Ewan.
While the Norman knight wore chainmail, Ewan had chosen a lightweight leather corselet to wear over his tunic. Leather braces protected his arms, and he carried a heavy wooden shield. He caught her glance and raised his shield in a discreet salute.
He’d done that when they were children. Long ago, she’d thought he was mocking her, because he was allowed to fight while she could only watch. Now, she realised it was meant to show respect.
Though there were a thousand reasons why she should not care who won the tournament, a part of her remembered the awkward boy Ewan had been. The boy who had been her friend once, teaching her what he’d learned from the sword masters, even though it was forbidden.
All of her earlier good wishes towards Ademar crumbled away, for now her true wish was to see Ewan emerge as the winner.
Honora hurried back to the dais, wanting a better seat to watch the fight. As she passed by a small undergrowth of shrubbery, she spied something brown and rectangular-shaped.
When she knelt down, she nearly caught her breath. For there, nearly hidden amid the weeds, lay the chest stolen from the family chapel.
Chapter Four
There were a few minutes before the match was due to begin. Ewan’s entire body ached, and sweat mingled with blood upon his skin. After the last fight, he’d taken a slice across his upper arm. An irritant, nothing more, and it was worth the wound to secure the win. Now he had one remaining round.
Honora’s warning reverberated in his mind. Watch for a switch. Though he could fight using either hand, he strongly favoured his right. Best to end this match quickly.
Ewan drained the cup of ale his brother held, regaining his strength. The cool drink didn’t alleviate his thirst, but he took a few moments to calm his breathing and to focus on the upcoming match.
‘You’ve done well this day,’ Bevan remarked.
The rare compliment brightened his mood. His older brother found fault more often than he praised a fight. ‘Good enough for now. But there’s still this last fight.’
‘Use your brain, not your arm. And for God’s sakes, keep your eyes off your feet.’
Ewan hid a smile. He hadn’t done that in years, but Bevan wouldn’t let him live it down. ‘The Baron says there will be a prize for the winner.’
‘Whatever it is, give it back to his daughter in her honour.’
A sound idea, if the prize were gold or silver. ‘I should go.’ He handed the cup back to Bevan and moved towards his opponent. ‘They’re starting.’
Ewan glanced over at the dais. Katherine sat beside her father, an anxious smile upon her face, while Honora was missing.
It didn’t sit well with him to see her gone. Was she all right? She’d been tense for most of the tournament, her smile strained. His gaze shifted through the crowd, accounting for each of the suitors. No one seemed to be missing, save her.
Why would she leave now, when the fighting was about to begin? Honora loved to watch swordplay. He started to back away from the ring to search for her, when suddenly she emerged from a small grove of trees. In her hands, she held a wooden chest.
Ewan stepped in front of her. ‘Are you all right?’
Honora nearly stumbled, and he caught her arm. ‘Yes, I am fine.’
His shoulders relaxed. He was about to excuse himself when she held out the chest.
‘I found this in the underbrush over there. It’s what I was searching for the other night.’
‘The chest you thought was stolen.’
‘It was stolen,’ she insisted. ‘Wooden chests don’t grow legs and