Highland Honor (16 page)

“If we get any better at this, lass,” Nigel said as they finally collapsed onto their bedding, “I am nay sure we will survive.”

“We do become quite wild,” she agreed, sleepily tugging the blanket over their rapidly chilling bodies.

Nigel smiled against her skin as he kissed her shoulder. He sprawled on his stomach, draped his arm around her slim waist, and tugged her close against his side. He felt totally spent and he loved it, yet he knew he would only need a little encouragement to want her again.

“Aye, wild is a good word for it.” He glanced around their campsite. “I sometimes think that the king's whole army could creep up on us and we wouldnae hear them.”

“Are you about to tell me that we must begin to behave ourselves for the sake of our own safety?” She grinned as she glanced at him, not surprised to see him grimace at the thought. She might not know how deeply she had touched his heart, if at all, but she had no doubt at all that he thoroughly enjoyed the passion they shared.

“That might be wise,” he murmured. “Aye, especially since your screams of delight can probably be heard in Italy.”

She blithely ignored his laughter-filled glance and replied calmly, “
Non
, for they are undoubtedly lost in the uproar you make.” Giggling, she slapped his hand away when he started to tickle her in gentle retribution.

“Rest, lass,” he said quietly when they calmed down, and he kissed her on the cheek. “As my strength increases, I feel a need to try to recoup some of the time and distance we lost whilst I was fevered.”

“Which means that you intend to ride from dawn to dusk again.”

“Aye, I fear so.”

“As you wish. To where?”

“Pardon?”

“Where are we riding to?”

“I told you—to a port, so that we might sail to Scotland.”

Gisele muttered a curse under her breath. “I know that. But to which port? France has more than one, I believe.”

“Actually, I am nay verra sure of which one. I head now to Cherbourg. 'Tis the port I sailed into seven years ago. There are many towns and villages near there where we might find someone to take us to Scotland, if there is no one to do so at Cherbourg.”

“Or if my enemies are there in too great a number.” She frowned, trying desperately to recall exactly where Cherbourg was and where it sat in comparison to the nearest DeVeau holdings. It was impossible, however, especially since she did not really know where she was at the moment.

“Do ye think there will be a great many of them? Do they hold any lands near Cherbourg?”

“I do not know. I was just thinking that I am not even sure where I am now, let alone where Cherbourg is. What suddenly troubled me was that the name sounded like one I heard often whilst in my husband's keep.
Non
, I think I am wrong. Now I think it may have been Caen.”

Nigel cursed. “We have but recently slipped past Caen. 'Tis a miracle that we didnae just ride into our enemies' hands. And, aye, this certainly means that Cherbourg will be awash in the bastards and the leeches who feed upon them.”

“What a pleasing thought that is,” she muttered, then sighed. “I am sorry. I have become so lost since we left Guy that I truly do not know where I am from day to day, or where we ride to. In truth, I was never very clever about such things. And, until now, I never felt there was much to gain from knowing where a DeVeau might be roosting.”

“Nay, lass, dinnae apologize for what isnae your fault. I complained so sharply because I saw yet another complication and we have enough to deal with.” He gave her a brief, tender kiss. “Go to sleep, dearling. We shall ride on to Cherbourg in the morning. We are close, but 'twill take a day or two more of steady riding.”

“Only a day or two?”

“If we meet with no trouble, aye,” he said quietly, then yawned.

She nodded and idly smoothed her hand over his arm. Nigel's body slowly grew heavy, his breathing measured and soft. Gisele knew she ought to be joining him in a much needed sleep, getting the rest she required for what lay ahead, but she felt no urge to do so. Instead, she stared up at the stars feeling increasingly uneasy, almost afraid.

At first she thought she grew afraid because she now knew that they were riding close to DeVeau lands. In a day or two they would be at the port where there would surely be DeVeau men searching for her and Nigel. Yet, as she continued to think about the dangers they would soon be facing, she realized that was not the cause of her growing fear. It worried her, but it was not what was slowly tying knots in her belly or causing her to break out in a cold sweat.

Nigel shifted against her side and moved his hand until it rested on her breast. She looked down at him, started to smile, and then froze. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the conviction that suddenly flooded her mind. It was Nigel who stirred her agitation. More exactly, it was what she now knew she felt for the man.

Gisele knew, immediately and with no doubt at all, that she loved the man sleeping in her arms. It was a poor time for such a revelation, but she could not ignore the truth. Despite all of her efforts to just savor the passion they could share and keep her heart safely locked away, during the time she and Nigel had been together, she had somehow lost control of her emotions. There had been numerous hints, strong clues to what she was feeling, including occasional foolish thoughts of the future, but she had chosen to ignore them. She had even thought that she could just set them aside, like simple chores, to be seen to when it was convenient. She could no longer play that game.

It was a complete disaster, she thought as she began to edge out of his hold. Nigel loved some woman in Scotland. She had blindly given her heart to a man who had nothing more than passion to give in return. She had told him herself that she asked for no more than that, and he had shown no sign that he wanted any change in the rules they had agreed to. There was also the fact that she had already tasted marriage and found it a very bitter potion. Although she knew that Nigel was nothing like her husband, she did not think she wanted to be bound to any man by law and God again.

Suddenly all of her brief dreams about winning Nigel's heart seemed no more than the mad fancies of an enamored child. She had been a fool, reaching for something that was already firmly held by another. Gisele felt intensely vulnerable and helpless, and she could not abide it for a moment longer. Neither could she bear to face Nigel again, terrified that her newly recognized emotions would be easy to read upon her face or in her eyes. It would now be impossible to be at ease with the man. She would spend every waking moment fearing that she had given herself away by word or deed.

The only clear thought Gisele had was that she needed to distance herself from Nigel. She was not so foolish as to think that distance would take his image from her heart and mind or cure her of needing him, but it would keep her from making an utter fool of herself. The thought of following him to Scotland, of being trapped in a strange land with a man she loved but who could not love her, was an appalling one.

Gisele yanked her clothes on and moved to saddle her horse, keeping a very close eye on Nigel all the while she prepared to leave. A part of her told her that it was pure madness to leave, especially in the middle of the night, but another part told her it would be madness to stay. Now it was all too easy to remember the way he had spoken of the woman he loved while caught in the grip of a fever, and, worse, the way he had spoken of coveting the bounty on her head. It appeared that she had but two choices—to suffer the heartbreak of loving a man who could not or would not ever love her, or to love a man who would betray her, take her to the DeVeaux, and sell her. Both promised a depth of heartbreak that would make all her past ones look weak and sickly in comparison. Gisele decided that she had had more than enough heartbreak and betrayal in her life. Leaving Nigel would also break her heart, but at least she would be able to suffer out of his sight.

Cautiously, she led her horse far away from the campsite before she mounted the animal. She had no idea of where she was going, only that she had to get away. Before she had met Nigel she had eluded the grasp of the DeVeaux for almost a year. She could do it again. At least, now, while she tried to stay out of sight, she could cling to the hope that soon her family would free her from her ordeal.

Wending her way through the dark, thinning forest, she touched the hilt of her sword and sighed. She had just left behind probably the only man in the civilized, Christian world willing to teach her a skill taught only to men. It was possible that she had also left behind the only man who could stir her passion. Gisele felt an overwhelming urge to hurry back to the shelter of Nigel's arms, but she gritted her teeth and continued on. With each step she took away from Nigel her pain and longing grew more powerful, and she knew that resisting its pull would be a long, hard battle. Gisele plodded onward, praying that soon the pain and longing would ease, that Nigel would become no more than a sweet memory. If not, leaving him could easily prove to be the most agonizing choice she had ever made, one that would torment her for the rest of her life.

Nigel frowned when he woke and saw no sign of Gisele. His concern grew tenfold when, after slipping into the shelter of the trees to see to his personal needs, he returned to the camp and she was still nowhere to be found. Then he saw that her horse was gone, and he felt his heart clench with fear for her.

Even as he rushed to clear the camp and ready the horses, he looked for some sign of what had happened while he had slept. He could not believe that he had slept through an attack or abduction by their enemies, or that the DeVeaux would have left him alive to come after them. Gisele certainly would not have allowed herself to be taken away quietly or easily, yet he found no blood, no sign of a struggle, and no sign that anyone else had been near their camp.

Slowly he came to the chilling realization that Gisele had left willingly and alone. He stood next to the horses, staring blindly around the camp, and tried to understand what his eyes told him. All his instincts told him that she had run away, but when he asked himself why, he found no answers.

How could she love him so passionately one moment and slip away the next? When they were so close to their goal, so near to getting to Scotland and the first taste of safety she had had in a year or more, how could she ride out alone and risk discovery and capture? She had confessed to having little sense of direction, so it seemed pure madness to just ride off unguided. He tried to think of something he might have done or said to hurt or offend her, to make her so upset that she would leave him without a word of farewell, but there was nothing. It was true that he greedily made love to her whenever he could yet never spoke of love, but she had said she did not ask for that. He had certainly seen no sign of unhappiness or dissatisfaction.

The more he tried to understand the reason for her leaving, the less sense it made. Alongside his fear for her safety grew a slow, burning anger. He had pledged to fight for her and keep her safe, had done his best to keep that pledge since Guy had given her into his care. She owed him some explanation for running away.

He mounted and began the slow work of trailing her. Gisele could not simply walk away from him, from what they shared, and she had no right to put her life in danger after all he had done to keep her alive. He refused to believe that the fierce lovemaking they had indulged in last night was her way of saying good-bye, or that she would put herself in danger of being captured by the ever-increasing hordes of people looking for her without a sound reason. Nigel swore that he would hunt her down and get the answers he sought, right after he shook some sense into her.

 

Gisele reined in on top of the small hillock and stared down at the fields spread out below her. It was going to be difficult to cross such a wide, open area without being seen or without being stopped and questioned if seen. As she dampened a small scrap of cloth with some water from her waterskin and then idly wiped the sweat and dust from her face and neck, she wondered how Nigel had always found such sheltered areas to travel in. A little shade would be most welcome right now, as would something to hide behind. Then she sighed. Unlike her, Nigel always knew where they were going. She was, she reluctantly confessed to herself, just riding blindly, praying God or some good angel would steer her in the right direction.

She already missed Nigel, had begun to do so even as she had left the campsite just hours ago. Just knowing she was leaving him had been enough to make her start to miss him and want him. It took all of her willpower to stop herself from turning around and going back to him. Far too many times she had to repeat her reasons for leaving him, had to reaffirm their worth in her confused mind. The further she rode, the less weight they carried.

Was not experiencing the sweet passion they shared worth a little heartbreak? Then there was how they talked and laughed together, even how they were quiet together. Was not enjoying that rich companionship also worth a little heartbreak?

“Sweet Mary and Jesu,” she muttered. “I am pitifully undecided.”

After she took a deep breath to steady the fast pace of her heart and clear her mind, she found she could briefly smile at her own confusion. One moment she was convincing herself that she had to leave Nigel, that there was no other choice. The next, she was convincing herself that there was no harm in going back to him. Unfortunately, the latter was many times easier to accomplish than the former. It kept making her hesitate, and she knew that was dangerous. She was leaving herself vulnerable to being tracked down by Nigel, if he chose to come after her at all, and of being found by her enemies.

It occurred to Gisele that she had lost some of the skills that had kept her alive for nearly a year before she had even met Nigel. She had come to rely on him, had given him a great deal of power over her life and freedom. That should alarm her more than it did, especially since she still had no real proof that he could be trusted. The fact that the man was an exciting lover was not exactly a tribute to or affirmation of his trustworthiness.

Glancing around one last time, she started down the hillock. She was reasonably sure that she was headed in the right direction to reach her cousin Marie, although she knew trusting in her own miserable sense of direction could be a mistake. The woman had helped her once and might be willing to do so again, at least in some small way. Crossing the fields was the most direct route and, although it was dangerously open, so were all of the routes that would take her around the fields. If she crossed the fields she would be exposed to view for the shortest amount of time.

Halfway across the fields she realized that she had made a serious error. Nearly a dozen men suddenly appeared just ahead, and she did not need their triumphant cry to tell her that they were DeVeau men and that they had recognized her. She turned her horse and kicked him into a gallop, desperate to get to some place where she could hide until the danger passed.

One man caught up to her, riding close by her side and reaching out for her reins. She drew her sword and struck out at him. Although she did not hurt him, slapping him with the flat of the sword instead of sticking him with the point, she startled him so with her attack that he veered away and had trouble staying in the saddle. Leaning low over the neck of her horse, she pressed the animal for more speed and tore up the small hillock she had just ridden down. She could see the trees to the west, back where she had come from, but was not sure she could reach them in time to lose the men racing after her.

A cry went up from her pursuers as she entered the small forest, and she knew they were dangerously close. Although it was treacherous to ride so swiftly in such close quarters, she slowed down only a little as she wound her way through the trees. The sounds of the men hunting her grew a little fainter, and she looked for a place to hide.

To her right she caught sight of a low mound, and she turned toward it. She had barely reined her horse to a full stop before she was out of the saddle and pulling him behind it. It was a poor hiding place, barely enough to hide her mount behind, but there was little else to choose from. As she leaned against a knotted tree trunk and struggled to catch her breath, she tried to listen to the men tracking her down, hoping to learn where they were simply from the sounds they made.

Slowly, she began to calm down, her heartbeat and breathing becoming less swift and painful. She could still hear the men, but none of them seemed to be moving her way. If she remained still and quiet they might miss her, might continue on, thinking she had just kept running straight through the wood.

Just as she began to think she had escaped them, a soft footfall sounded behind her. Her sword in her hands, Gisele whirled around and cursed when she saw the tall, lean man standing there. It was her ill luck that at least one of the DeVeaux dogs had some skill in hunting down his prey. He looked at her and then at her sword and grinned widely. Gisele did not appreciate finding out that she had been right in thinking most men would find a small woman with a sword a source of great amusement. She prayed she would acquit herself well enough to make him see that this was no joke.

“Have you been playing the boy for so long that you now think you are one?” he asked as he drew his sword and began to circle her.

“I may be small, but this sword is not too heavy for my hands, and it has a very sharp edge.”

“I am all atremble.”

“Soon you will be all
dead
.”

“You have gained a taste for killing men, have you?” He struck out at her, and his dark eyes widened slightly when she neatly blocked his swing.

“I have gained a taste for staying alive,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm and hiding the very real fear she felt.

“I approached you unarmed, my sword sheathed. I was not planning to kill you,” he said in a quiet voice, obviously trying to cajole her into surrendering.

“Mayhap you have no intention of killing me yourself, but you mean to take me to those who will.” She swiftly knocked aside another of his thrusts.

“You murdered a DeVeau, the one with the highest standing, and the king's ear. I but mean to take you to face justice.”

“A DeVeau would not know justice if it grew legs, walked up to him, and spit in his eye.”

The man smiled, then attacked her with a vengeance. Gisele fought hard, struggling to remember every little thing Nigel had told her about what to watch for and how to strike back. She was just beginning to think she might have a chance, albeit a small one, of winning, when she felt a sharp, blinding pain in the back of her head. Gisele cried out and staggered from the force of the blow. Her sword fell from her hands as she reached up to clutch her head and stumbled to her knees. She cried out in pain as the man who had struck her from behind grabbed her roughly by the arm and yanked her to her feet.

“I was rather enjoying my little battle,” said her opponent as he picked up her sword.

“I could not believe my eyes when I came around the side of the hill and saw you fighting this bitch,” said the short, hulking man who held her captive.

“She was revealing some interesting skill. Someone has taught her well, Louis.”

“Probably that fool Scot she has been whoring for. You should have just killed her and been done with it, George.”

“I was told to find her, not execute her,” George said in a hard, cold voice. “If DeVeau wants her dead, let him get her blood on his own hands.”

“He will not be as soft of heart as you. She butchered his cousin.”

“Vachel hated his cousin Michael. His grief is born of the fact that, as long as she lives, he cannot claim his full inheritance as the next in line. And now they have to try to find someone else who can cuddle up to the king.”

“You should speak with more care, George. Vachel DeVeau deals harshly with those he believes are against him.”

“I shall be sweet of tongue and nature when I face him. Then I shall gather the bounty owed me and leave this cursed place.” He frowned at Gisele. “Where is the Scotsman?”

He no longer rides with me,” Gisele answered, praying that Nigel would now be left alone.

“Did you kill him, too?” grumbled Louis as he started to walk away from the hill, roughly dragging her along with him.

“I have never killed anyone,” she snapped, knowing that was not really the truth. The man she had killed to save Nigel's life could well be a friend or kinsman of one of these men, though, and she decided it was a secret well kept.

“That is not the tale the DeVeaux tell.”

“And every word from their cold lips is the truth, is it? You are a greater fool than you look if you believe that.” She cursed in pain as he gave her arm a vicious yank.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of George frowning, his dark expression revealing all of his doubts. She wondered if she could find an ally there, then told herself not to foolishly raise her hopes. The man wanted the bounty offered for her, and although it might be simple avarice that drove him, he might also have a deep need for the coin—a need so desperate that he would be willing to sacrifice a life to get it. There was also the fact that anyone who helped her would be putting his own life at risk. There were not many people who would put their lives at risk for a woman they did not know, one who could be a murderer.

She studied the other men who waited by Louis's and George's horses. They were a hard-faced, rough looking group. Each one of them watched her with no hint of sympathy or discomfort upon their faces. Nigel had told her that she was pretty, but it was clear that she was not pretty enough to stir a softness in any of these men. There would be no help for her from that quarter.

“Do not try and plead your innocence with me,” snarled Louis as he grabbed a length of rope from his saddle and tied her hands securely behind her back. “I do not care whether you killed the bastard or not. Sir Vachel wants you, and I mean to give you to him,” he said, as he tossed her up into his saddle and mounted behind her.

“Sir Vachel obviously surrounds himself with witlessly obedient little serfs,” she murmured, then cried out in pain when he cuffed her on the side of the head, leaving her ears ringing.

“If you wish to plead, save the begging for his ears.”

“I would never give a DeVeau the pleasure of hearing me beg.”

“I begin to think you killed your husband by cutting him into little bloody pieces with your sharp tongue,” Louis muttered. “Best you keep silent now, woman. Vachel may want you alive, but he did not say you had to be hale and unhurt.”

Gisele opened her mouth to say something, caught sight of George shaking his head, and decided to shut up. Speaking her mind might ease the fear and anger churning inside of her, but it would do her no good to arrive at Sir Vachel's manse beaten senseless. Not only would it mean that she would be unable to try to talk her way out of trouble, but she could miss some small chance to escape or be too weak to take advantage of one. She knew she could also be riding to her death, but she decided that, too, would be better met with a clear head. Dragged before her enemy beaten and mute, too weak to even mutter some last words as he cut her down, would not be a dignified way to die.