Highland Honor (14 page)

Still keeping a close watch behind her, she carefully made her way back to the cave. As she drew near to her shelter, she dismounted and led her horse up the steep, rocky slope. A few feet from the mouth of the cave she stopped and gaped toward it, not wanting to believe what she saw.

Nigel was standing outside the cave, his sword in his hand. He saw her and slumped against the rocks. Even as she rushed to his side he began to slide down until he sat on the cold ground.

“Are you completely mad?” she demanded as she helped him back inside, alarmed by the way his body was shaking with weakness.

“I might ask ye the same thing,” he rasped as he sank back onto the bedding and heartily cursed his weakness.

He had woken up to find her gone. At first he had not been very concerned, thinking she had gone out for wood or to scavenge for some food. When he had realized that her horse was gone, however, he had become increasingly worried. The longer he waited and she did not return, the more worried he had become. The moment he had stood up he had known that he would not be much help if she were in trouble, but he had doggedly continued. His sword had felt so heavy in his hand he had known he would not have been able to use it. By the time he had dragged his weak and trembling body outside, he had realized that he could do no more than stand there shaking and sweating, and that had infuriated him. Having her find him in such a poor condition and have to help him back to bed had only added to that anger.

“I am not the one trying to recover from a fever and a wound.” She hastily checked his wound, relieved to find that he had not opened it. “Where did you think you were going?” she demanded even as she moved to go and get her horse.

“To find you,” he called after her.

“I did not need finding,” she replied as she tugged her horse back inside the cave and unpacked the animal.

“Where did ye go?”

“We needed food. I cannot hunt, and none was walking up to the mouth of this cave, so I had to go and get some.”

“Ye went into a town?”

She brought him some water and made him take a drink. “A little village to the west of here.”

“Ye could have been seen by the DeVeaux.”

“I was, but only from a distance,” she added hastily when he cursed. “They did not recognize me, and did not follow me.”

“Are ye certain?”

She nodded. “I watched to be sure that they went to the village and stayed there.”

He frowned. “Someone in the village could tell them that you were there.”

“They could, but that still will not tell them if the rider they saw was me, or where I went to. And, I was alone. Now they are looking for two of us. It will probably confuse them.”

“We must leave here.”

He started to get up, but she easily held him in place with one hand planted firmly on his chest. “We cannot. You could barely get yourself outside. Do you try to tell me that you were not weakened by that, so weakened that you could not take another step?” She smiled faintly when he cursed. “We needed food.”

“Ye shouldnae have taken the risk,” he snapped.

“Ah, I should have cowered in here until we slowly starved to death.”

“Gisele—”

“I did what I had to do. It is unfortunate that the DeVeaux were about, but I do not believe they will be storming our little castle. Now I have the food to help you heal and get strong again. Then we can leave here. Nigel, even I can hold you in place with little effort. You cannot fight, and neither can I. Here is where we must stay, at least for a little while longer.”

Nigel said nothing for a moment, hating to admit that she was right, then he curtly nodded in agreement. “Your disguise fools no one, ye ken.”

“I am aware of that.” She told him what happened with the baker, and was pleased to see him smile faintly. “There was no choice, Nigel. You must see that.”

“I do, but that doesnae mean that I must like it.”

She just laughed and moved to get him some food. After he ate some bread and cheese and washed it down with some wine, he fell asleep. His attempt to come and find her had sapped his strength, but she felt sure he would quickly regain it, that he had not done himself any lasting damage.

As she washed herself with some of the cool water she decided that she would now have to tell Nigel what she was doing and where she was going. He was no longer sleeping the day away, leaving her free to come and go as she pleased. The man might argue her plans, but if he knew what she was doing he would not try to come and find her again, risking his health.

Nigel woke up one more time as the sun set. She washed him down, changed his bandage, and fed him. His wound was already beginning to close, but he was too disgusted with his weakness to be very pleased by that news. Gisele sighed, realizing that she had been right. Nigel Murray was going to be a difficult patient.

Just as she prepared to get into bed beside him an eerie noise cut through the still night air, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Wolves. There was a good chance that they had finally found the bodies, and the things she had thrown on top of them were not going to immediately deter them from trying to scavenge some food. For a moment she sat where she was, frozen by her fear. Then she moved to build a fire near the mouth of the cave. If the wolves were near enough to scent the bodies, it might not take them long to smell the horses and come looking for that prey. She suspected that they could easily scent Nigel if they drew near to the cave, for they were skilled at sniffing out the weak and injured.

Using some of the extra wood she had begun to pile in the back of the cave, she made a large fire, then set a good supply of wood close at hand to feed it with. She picked up one of the swords she had taken from the dead men and sat behind the fire watching the opening to the cave. The fire should be enough to keep the wolves at a distance, but she wanted to be ready in case hunger drove one of them to try to cross that barrier. As she prepared to guard her shelter she took one last covetous glance at the bed.

It was almost dawn before the wolves drew near enough for her to see them. All of her encroaching exhaustion fled as she saw the light of the fire reflect off the eyes of at least a half-dozen of the animals. She clutched at her sword, trembling slightly as she heard them growl.

“Gisele,” Nigel called softly from the bed.

“Go back to sleep,” she replied in an equally soft voice, never taking her gaze from the enemy before her.

“Are they close?”

“Close enough.” She saw no point in worrying him, for he could do nothing to help, might even stir the animals to attack if he moved closer.

“The fire should keep them away.”

“I know. It is working well.”

Nigel cursed. “Ye shouldnae have to be protecting me.”

“Why not? You have been protecting me for a long time now. A few nights of lost sleep is but a small recompense. Now, go back to sleep. There is nothing you can do to help, and I think all this talk is making them more interested in us than they might otherwise be.”

He relaxed, forcing himself to accept her protection. Recalling her fear of wolves, he decided they could not be that close, for she had spoken in a fairly calm voice. She was right. Even if the animals did draw near enough to attack, he would be little more than an easy meal. It hurt his pride to admit that, but he had to face the truth. If he did attempt to go and help her he would only distract her from what she had to do, and that would cause more harm than good. He reached out and pulled his sword closer, however. Having it at hand made him feel a little less like a helpless bairn, he mused as his weakness slowly forced him to accept sleep despite his best attempts to stay awake.

Gisele breathed a sigh of relief when Nigel did not speak again. He had clearly not seen the red eyes she was staring into, so did not realize how close at hand danger was. That was exactly how she wanted it. At the moment the wolves stared at her, and she stared at them. Soon the sun would be up, and she hoped they would slip away. If Nigel had stumbled over to her side, he could have startled them into attacking, fire or no fire. He would also have forced her to divide her attention, and that could have been dangerous. It was terrifying to face the beasts alone, but she knew that, this time, there was no other choice.

By the time the wolves crept away the sun was already over the horizon, and every muscle in Gisele's body ached with stiffness. Each time one of the animals had edged closer, she had carefully put a little more wood on the fire, keeping it hot and bright. Nigel had remained quiet, and the terrified horses had remained as still as she had. Gisele knew she had been lucky in that, but she still felt proud of herself. Although she knew she was still afraid of the animals, she had learned that her fear did not have to make her a coward.

She put out the fire and wearily tended to the horses. After washing her face and hands she crawled into bed beside Nigel, keeping her sword close at hand. After the long night she had just spent, she knew there was yet another thing she had to learn—how to fight. As she gave in to sleep she wondered if Nigel would be willing to teach her, or if it were going to be something she would have to try to learn on her own. No matter what, she swore that she would never spend another moment like that. Nigel could protest all he wanted, but she would never again face down an enemy knowing that she had no skill to fight them off if they attacked.

“What are ye doing?”

Gisele stumbled, startled into clumsiness when that deep voice sounded directly behind her. Thinking that Nigel was still asleep, she had picked up his sword and practiced swinging it, vainly trying to imitate the way she had seen men fight. She had done the same during every private moment she could steal since facing down the wolves two nights ago. By keeping it a secret she had hoped to avoid any confrontation with Nigel. That confrontation was obviously now at hand, and she slowly turned to face him. She knew she was blushing, from embarrassment over her ineptitude and not from shame over playing at a man's game, but she was able to face him calmly. She might not be able to make him understand it or agree, but she would not allow him to stop her.

“I was attempting to learn how to use a sword,” she replied.

Nigel snatched the sword from her grasp. “That isnae something any wee lass should want to do.”

She snatched the sword back, his raised brows telling her that her action had surprised him. “There is something else this
wee lass
does not want to do—die.”

He reached out to take the sword back again but she quickly sheathed it, and he decided not to get into a wrangle over it. “I am here to protect ye from that dire fate.”

“Do not take offense, for I mean no criticism, but you have been ill, wounded, and weak. I have just spent many days with no more protection than my prayers that nothing dangerous would creep our way until you were strong again, and you cannot imagine how helpless that makes one feel. There may also be times when I must face a danger and you cannot be at my side. I decided I needed to learn how to protect myself. I know I am neither big enough nor strong enough to fight as well as a man, but that does not mean that I should just sit on my backside and never learn the skill.”

“And when did you come to this great decision?”

Her eyes narrowed as she heard the hint of derision in his voice. “When I went to the village and saw the DeVeaux. They did not pursue me, but what if they had? What if one of them had cornered me? What if one of them had followed me here?”

“That didnae happen,” he said cautiously, but—although he hated the idea of Gisele wielding a sword in her small, delicate hands—he was beginning to see the benefit of her learning at least some rudimentary skill.

“
Non
, it did not. God was watching over us. Mayhap He was also watching over us when the wolves sniffed at our door. As I stared at them for what felt like hours. I was painfully aware of the fact that, even though I held a sword, I had no idea of how to successfully use it. That if they had decided to make a lunge at me, I could do no more than pray that I could thrash the weapon around well enough to cut the beasts down or drive them back.”

“The wolves were that close? Ye said nothing.”

Inwardly cursing herself for forgetting that she had eased his concern that night with a small lie, she just shrugged. “There was nothing you could have done. In truth, if you had joined me in my vigil the wolves might well have scented that you were wounded and been driven to try to reach you.”

Nigel cursed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Aye, wolves have a good nose for the weak and injured. 'Tis their favorite prey. As ye wish, then. When we camp tonight I will begin to teach ye how to fight.”

Her brief moment of elation swiftly faded as she thought over his words. “What do you mean, when we camp tonight? We have already camped—here and now. Why must the lessons wait?”

“Because we must ride today, must leave this place and be on our way.”

She gaped at him, then hurried after him as he moved to saddle their horses. “You are not well enough yet.”

“I may not be as strong as I would like, but my stitches will be taken out soon, and 'tis clear even to my untrained eye that there is little chance of reopening the wound.”

“True, but that does not mean that you have the strength to start riding all over the countryside.”

“Then we will ride only a little way.”

“If you do not mean to go very far, then what harm in waiting another day or so, waiting until you can ride far and maybe ride hard if the need arises?”

He turned to face her, briefly took her into his arms, and gave her a short, hard kiss. “Your concern over me is verra touching, but 'tis misplaced. Aye, I may not be able to ride verra far today. But tomorrow I will be able to ride even farther, farther still the day after that. And, even though we may not travel far or fast each day, we will still be drawing closer to a port and Scotland and safety. What I cannae do any longer is sit here waiting for us to be discovered by our enemies.”

“I have seen no sign of them since that day I went into the village.”

“And that is good, but it doesnae mean that we are safe here, either. Mayhap those fools didnae realize what they were so near to, but they might tell someone who could easily see the error they made and ride this way. Nay, lass, 'tis time we leave. 'Tis ne'er good to linger too long in one place, especially not when ye have most of France hunting you.”

Gisele did not really have an argument good enough to stop him. He was right. There was still the chance that the men she saw or someone they spoke to could come back here and search for them. It would only take a few quiet talks with the merchants she had dealt with for a DeVeau to know she had been in that village. Their plan had been to escape France and hide her in Scotland, and it was still the best plan they had. Sitting in the cave might be comfortable, might even be safe for a while longer, but it could easily become a death trap, and it certainly was not getting them any closer to Scotland. Nigel was also not going to heed her warnings about his wound, his lack of strength, or anything that hinted that he was still too weak to begin their travels again.

“If I think you are beginning to look ill or too weary to continue, will you heed me when I say we should rest?” she asked. When he hesitated she added, “Once we leave this cave we will be out in sight again, able to be seen and chased. You are not yet strong enough to stay in the saddle for a whole day and endure a hard gallop to flee the enemy. Rest is still important.”

“Then we shall rest if and when ye think we must,” he reluctantly agreed.

Gisele began to help him pack their things and saddle the horses. She hated leaving the cave, hated beginning their journey once again. Although she had also hated to see Nigel ill and wounded, it had been rather nice to stay in one place for a while. In truth, the cave had begun to feel a little like a home, something she had not enjoyed for over a year. That was foolish. A cave could not be a home. At the moment, France itself could not be her home, only her grave. Nigel was right. They had to start their journey again. She would, however, keep a close watch on him every foot of the way.

They kept their pace slow, ambling along as if they did no more than travel to a kinsman for some celebration. Gisele insisted that they take a long respite from riding at noon, ignoring Nigel's muttered curses as he sulkily complied. She graciously refrained from pointing out that he had needed to sleep for over an hour before they could start riding again. Despite their care, however, he was pale and slightly unsteady by the late afternoon. She knew he was feeling poorly when he made no objection to their stopping before the sun had even begun to set.

The first thing she unpacked was their bedding, and she forced him to lie down as she saw to the horses and made a fire. Then she tended to his wound and helped him wash the dust and sweat from his body. He recovered a little after he ate, and she silently breathed a sigh of relief. They might have to move slowly for several more days, but she began to think that he could do so without any serious consequences.

When she crawled into bed beside him he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She smiled faintly when he cursed and simply held her. He was healed enough to think about making love, but clearly not enough to enact his thoughts. She huddled close to his warmth and closed her eyes Now that he was no longer in danger of dying from his wound, now that he was well on his way to being completely healed, she, too, thought more and more of how nice it would be to taste the passion they could share. The next few nights were going to be very long.

 

On the third night of their journey Gisele took out the stitches in Nigel's wound. He insisted it was time, but she had hesitated, unsure of the right time to remove such things. The last thing she wished to do was to have to restitch him because they had moved too quickly and misjudged how much he had healed. Now that they were out, however, she looked closely at the wound and decided it had closed well. The skin was still pink and tender, but she could see no sign that the wound could be easily reopened.

Now he was probably healed enough to begin to properly teach her how to use a sword, if not for a long, hard ride, she mused. Thus far, he had done little more than tell her how to hold a sword and carefully instruct her in different ways to move, how to thrust and parry. At first it had been a little embarrassing to prance around by herself while he sprawled on their bed calling out directions, but she had quickly become used to it. He could show her more clearly now, had the strength to survive the day with enough ability to show her more, perhaps even to engage in a few mock battles.

“So, I am healed now,” Nigel said, interrupting her silent planning as he slowly moved his hand over the rough skin covering his wound.

“Nearly,” she murmured, finding her position astride his body an enticing one, learning how to fight quickly becoming the last thing on her mind. “The wound no longer needs stitches to keep the skin together and your insides where they belong, but that does not mean that it is strong enough to endure any punishment. You must still be very careful in what you do”

Nigel slid his hands down her sides and slowly caressed her hips. “There are a few things I have been thinking of doing since I began to regain my strength.”

“And what would those things be?” she asked, able to see exactly what he was thinking of from the warmth darkening his beautiful amber eyes.

“Weel, they may nay be too easy to gain now that I am a poor, weakened, and scarred mon,” he murmured as he kissed the gentle curve of her throat.

Gisele smiled against his skin as she bent and kissed the scar on his side and felt him tremble beneath her lips. For the last three nights she had not been able to stop herself from thinking about how it felt to make love with him. It had begun to rob her of much needed sleep. She had tried to cool her blood by remembering that he was obviously still in love with some woman in Scotland, but all she could think of was that that woman was not present. She had also tried to cling to the memory of what he had said just before he had been wounded, that puzzling remark about how any man would covet such a bounty, but her growing ardor made it easy to discard that as a callous remark intended to unsettle his opponent.

Inwardly, she shook her head in disgust over her inability to decide anything about Nigel except that she wanted him. At the moment, she wanted him very much indeed. She sorely missed the pleasure they could share, how it warmed her and made it so easy to forget all of her troubles, doubts, and fears. As she trailed soft, tender kisses over his taut stomach and heard his breathing grow heavier, she felt increasingly bold.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to make love to Nigel, and even though she felt herself blush she could not shake the thought. He had shown her how beautiful passion could be. He had always been the one to begin the seduction, to make love to her, teaching her and leading her. Now that she was no longer ignorant of the many ways one could make love and stir a lover's desire, what harm could there be in employing that new knowledge by returning some of the delight he had gifted her with?

The more she thought about it, the more daring she felt. The more daring she felt, the more her passion rose. Gisele thought of all he had done to her to make her passion run hot, and suddenly wanted to do the same to him. She had no doubt that he desired her, but now she wanted to make him grow feverish and blind with passion, just as he had made her feel so many times. It would be a very sweet and pleasurable revenge, if he allowed it.

And that, she decided, was the only thing that made her hesitate to act upon her wishes. What if, by her boldness, she deeply offended Nigel in some way? What if she made him think poorly of her? She shook aside her sudden concerns. If Nigel showed any sign of shock or distaste, she would stop and claim ignorance. It would be the truth. No one, certainly not her husband, had ever taught her what she should or should not do with a man.

Nigel trembled beneath the touch of her long fingers as she slowly undid his braies. Only his weakness had kept him from making love to her since he had begun to recover from his fever. It would have been frustrating and somewhat embarrassing if he had begun to love her only to open his stitches and bleed all over her or, worse in his mind, find that he lacked the strength to complete the act. He had occasionally thought of trying to get her to do most of the work, but had hesitated, afraid he would shock her. Gisele was a widow, but he had quickly seen that she had learned little of the art of lovemaking from her swine of a husband. Now it seemed as if she were going to answer his wishes all on her own, and he held himself still, terrified he would say or do something that would make her grow shy and reticent.

When she slid off his braies, covering his legs with soft, heated kisses, he decided that lying still was probably going to be one of the hardest things he had done in a long time. He groaned his approval as she curled her long, slender fingers around his erection and began to stroke him.

The first touch of her lips made him cry out with pleasure. Then he softly cursed when she began to pull away, her pale face telling him clearly that she had misread his cry as shock and disapproval. Murmuring his approval, he threaded his fingers in her hair and gently urged her mouth back down. It was hard to think clearly, but he struggled to keep telling her how good she made him feel, urging her to continue. When she obeyed his soft request to take him into her mouth, he shuddered from the intense pleasure that tore through his body, and knew that he would not have the will to enjoy it for long.