Page 6 of The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

Ademar touched the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. Nicking the flesh, he repeated his command. The soldier backed away, his hands raised up in surrender. The rest of the men retreated without protest.

“Thank you,” Katherine said, touching her hand to the door. Ademar inclined his head, stepping back into the shadows. The flickering torchlight cast a golden glow against her skin. Although her clothes were nearly dry and nothing appeared out of place, he saw the vulnerability on Katherine’s face. No doubt she was starting to form regrets.

“I won’t . . . tell anyone,” he managed.

“I know. You have too much honor.” A furtive smile edged her lips before she added, “It was my fault. It won’t happen again.” Moments later, the door closed behind her.

Ademar positioned himself outside the chamber, wondering what he could possibly do to change her mind.

Katherine closed her eyes tightly against the morning sun. Last night she’d barely slept at all. She'd done something sinful after wanting to do the most wicked thing she could. She'd found Sir Ademar and had practically thrown herself at him. To her shock, the man had welcomed the embrace.

By the Virgin, the man could kiss. She’d never known it, never expected it. Ewan had kissed her once, and although it had been unexpected and wonderful, it hadn’t shaken her world apart. Not the way Ademar’s kiss had. She hadn’t been driven to do desperate things or cast aside her virtue. For truth be told, she had nearly given the stoic knight everything he’d wanted. Even now, her thoughts were tangled up with the memory of the way he’d touched her, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in his arms. She had felt beloved.

The very thought made her skin flush with discomfort. She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric abrading her skin.

How could she face him later today? Though Ademar had claimed he would say nothing to anyone, she didn’t know if he would stay away from her.

Or if she wanted him to.

What would it be like as his wife? He had earned his knighthood and was an earl’s son, albeit the second-born. Certainly, he had land of his own and modest holdings. An accomplished fighter, he had the strength and means to protect an estate.

Blessed saints above. Why was she even thinking about Ademar in this way? She didn’t know him well enough. And . . . he wasn’t Ewan.

Katherine clenched the sheets, wishing she could rip out her feelings and let them go. She needed to forget about MacEgan and her girlish infatuation. But it hurt to know that she wasn’t wanted. Her best efforts to be the perfect match for him had met with nothing but failure.

She heard Honora awaken and rise from the pallet on the floor. Though her sister had shared her room since returning to Ardennes, last night they had kept their distance from one another. Katherine had wanted to lash out at her sister, to strike her down and punish her. But it would not change the fact that Ewan loved Honora.

It would have been easier to hate her sister if Honora had deliberately set out to take Ewan away from her. Instead, she had offered to give him up and travel to Normandy to stay with their mother’s family.

She'd told Honora to go with him, that she didn't want to see her again. But that had been a lie. She’d always been close to her sister. As young girls, they had spent many nights talking long past midnight, sharing secrets in the dark. Honora had been her dearest friend. And while the betrayal had sliced her heart open, she didn’t truly want her sister to suffer.

The bleakness she felt wasn’t only from the loss of Ewan. It was from the loss of her sister.

With a brief glance, Katherine saw that Honora was red-eyed, her shoulders slumped forward in misery as she packed her belongings.

“I am sorry,” Honora whispered.

Katherine kept her eyes closed, not responding. Her sister’s apology was weighted with guilt. And though she wanted to say something, she couldn’t quite bring herself to bridge the distance. When she thought of Ewan and the way Honora had embraced him, silent tears burned her cheeks.

She was going to let herself grieve, and then she would let Ewan go. She would find her own happiness, somehow.

She thought of Ademar’s strong arms and the way she had felt safe within them. Right now, she wanted to rest her cheek against his chest, to breathe in his masculine scent and know that at least someone cared about her. It consoled her to think of him. He wouldn’t let her be alone.

Honora left their chamber, and Katherine sat up, needing to say something. She wanted to tell her sister that she hadn’t really meant the angry words. She didn’t want Honora to leave without at least trying to mend things between them.

Katherine pushed the coverlet aside and drew near to the door, fumbling to find the right words. An apology was the best start, she decided. And then…she would bid Honora a safe journey and happiness. It was the right thing to do, though she had no doubt the words would taste bitter upon her tongue.

The sounds of muffled voices caught her attention. Men’s voices, mingled with her sister’s. The arguing grew louder, and abruptly, her sister cried out, “Katherine!”

Fearing the worst, Katherine threw open the door. Two men were dragging her sister away, while Sir Ademar fought off a third. Her heart stilled when she realized he'd kept his word and stayed.

She tore down the hallway, racing after her sister. A moment later, Ademar ran toward John’s chamber with his sword drawn, but it was too late. The door closed in their faces, and she heard the unmistakable sound of someone lowering the heavy wooden bolt.

“You have to help Honora,” Katherine insisted, raising her fist to strike out at the door.

Ademar caught her wrist and gently pressed her up against the wall. “Go back, Katherine.”

“No. I won’t let John hurt her.”