Highland Honor (5 page)

Despite that, Gisele could not stop herself from wondering. What could make a man leave the home he loved? She knew he loved both his home and his family. She could hear it in his deep voice whenever he spoke of them. Gisele also believed his claim that he was not a hunted man, had not fled any enemies, and that he was not helping her run from one danger only to thrust her into the middle of another. That did not leave her many choices, and the one that came to mind made her uneasy. There was one thing that could make even the strongest and bravest of knights flee a place like the basest of cowards. One thing that could turn a man to wine and women, that could change a sober, righteous man into a drunken lecher. A woman. Nigel was in France to try to forget a woman.

After several moments of silently cursing, Gisele wondered why that should trouble her so much. There was no question that Nigel was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen and that she did feel some attraction for him, but she should not be concerned about whether or not his heart was taken or broken. In truth, Gisele thought angrily, the only thing she should be wondering about was whether men had any hearts at all.

It did not matter, she told herself firmly. If he had fled Scotland because of a woman it was obviously because he could not have her. If he still loved the woman that was his concern, and not Gisele's. She had neither the time nor the inclination to chase after the man's heart. Gisele knew her one and only concern should be to stay alive until she could prove her innocence.

She sighed and tried to fix her attention on following Nigel. Gisele hoped that she could make herself believe all that, but a small part of her told her it was hopeless. Nigel had shown her that passion still lurked inside her although fear held it captive. He had also shown her that he might be the one who could free it again. She had thought a lot about the kiss they had shared, about the feelings it had stirred within her before the terror DeVeau had bred in her had killed them all. Gisele wanted to know what passion, what fierce and fearless desire, could feel like, and instinct told her that Sir Nigel Murray could show her. What she feared was that, she would want more once he showed her. She would not only want to be his lover, but his love. If she were right about his reasons for leaving home, his love was not free for the taking. His heart was held by some other woman. If, she gave her heart when she gave her body, she could well be handing it to someone who had no use for it, nor the capability of ever returning her feelings. It might be wondrous to discover the joy that could be passion, but Gisele was not sure she wanted to also discover what true heartbreak was.

“I ken that the journey is hard, lass,” Nigel said, catching a glimpse of the dark frown on her face.

A little concerned that her thoughts were so clear to read, Gisele forced a brief smile in response. “I but mourn my wretched lot in life, Sir Murray. Do not fear that I will allow my occasional descents into maudlin self-pity to interfere with our journey.”

Nigel laughed softly, then shook his head. “Ye have earned a few moments of melancholy. More so than many another.”

Gisele shrugged. “I may have earned the right to indulge myself, but it is useless. It does not ease the pain of the past, or help me solve my difficulties now. In truth, I find it more pleasurable to get angry.”

“Especially at men.”

“Oh,
oui
, especially at men. Worry not, my fine knight, I shall not be cutting your throat in the dead of night simply because you are a man and I have stirred myself into a fury.”

He started to laugh, then eyed her closely, enjoying the faint, impish grin that curved her full mouth but also made a little uneasy by the way she could jest about the manner in which her husband died. “And just what might make ye creep about and cut my throat whilst I sleep?” he asked.

“You will know when the time has come.”

“Oh, aye, when I am strangling in my own blood.”

Even as she opened her mouth to make a humorous reply, Gisele suddenly realized what she was saying. In her mind she saw her husband's bloodsoaked body. She could not believe she had been so heartless or so stupid as to make jest of a brutal murder, especially one she had been accused of. The memory of what she had found that day was slow to recede, and she gagged, certain she could still smell the blood.

“Are ye unwell?” Nigel asked, reaching out to touch her arm and struggling not to be offended by the way she yanked it out of his reach.

“I am fine. I but swallowed a bug.”

“Another one? Ye had best be more wary, lass, or ye shall be too full to eat when we make camp.”

He rode a few paces in front of her, then smiled with relief when he heard her softly curse him. She had looked so pale and stricken for a moment that he had ached to pull her into his arms and shelter her from her dark memories. Gisele had obviously realized that she was making jest of the manner in which her husband had been murdered. Nigel was sure she had then become horrified, but he knew that his desire for her was so strong that it could easily cloud his judgement. There was, after all, the chance that the look he had seen had not been horror or self-disgust but fear, fear that she had just revealed her own guilt. He decided that he was going to have to try harder to convince her that he simply did not care if she had killed the man whether he believed in her innocence or not. Until he could make her understand that she would always feel constrained, unable to be completely honest or to trust him. He needed both from her if they were going to get to Scotland alive.

It was a soft, distant howl, but it made Gisele's blood run cold, and she huddled closer to the fire. Nigel had chosen a lovely clearing in the forest for their camp. At least, it had been lovely until he had left her alone to go hunting, something that was taking far longer than she thought was necessary. No matter how often she told herself it had not really been that long, she began to worry about him. The sound of wolves howling, distant though it was, only added to her growing concern. There was a much greater chance that Nigel had stumbled upon some of her enemies than that he had been eaten by wolves. Yet, foolish though it was, she feared the wolves more.

The horses shifted, blowing softly, and Gisele tensed. Someone or something was out there. She slipped her hand inside of her jupon and began to withdraw her dagger from the sheath sewn inside. A moment later Nigel emerged from the wood proudly holding up two rabbits readied for the spit. Gisele felt both weak with relief and tempted to strike him. Then she looked at the rabbits again, realized how hungry she was, and decided to forgive the man his long absence and continuously alarming stealth.

“Did I nay say earlier this fine day that I would find us some meat?” he said, grinning as he sat down on the opposite side of the fire and quickly set the rabbits on the spit.

“You did,” she replied, deciding not to remark upon the vanity of preparing the spits before he had set out on his hunt. “I did not realize how I hungered for some meat until you crept out of the wood holding your catch.”

“Ye are troubled by my silence, are ye?” He had a sip of wine and handed her the wineskin.

Gisele shrugged and helped herself. “It can be frightening, especially in the dark.”

“I shall teach you the trick of it. If ye acquire the skill ye willnae find it so unsettling.”

“I would like that,” she said, not able to hide all of her excitement. “When we walk together I feel as if I make more noise than the horses. And with the danger I cannot seem to free myself of, it could prove to be a most useful skill.”

“Aye, it is, but ye will soon be free of the threat that has hounded you for so long.”

“God willing,” she murmured, and then smiled faintly. “You should be more careful in your boasting, Sir Murray. Some say God frowns upon such vanities, and I think we could use His favor right now, do you not agree?”

Nigel smiled. “Oh, aye, but I dinnae consider it a boast or e'en vanity. 'Tis a vow, upon my honor. Your running will soon end. Ye have suffered enough injustice at the hands of the DeVeaux. 'Tis past time it ceased.”

She really wanted to believe him, wanted to accept his vow and feel at peace, but she had been afraid for too long. Nigel might mean every word he spoke, but she needed far more than brave words. Over the last year a few friends and kinsmen had vowed to put an end to her travails, including Guy, and yet she was still running, still hiding. She could not even feel certain that Scotland would be the haven Nigel thought it would be, only that it had to be better than France. What puzzled her was how he could make such a vow when he was not convinced of her innocence in the murder of her husband.

“Ye dinnae believe me. I can see the doubt in your bonny eyes,” he said, as he turned the rabbits so that they would cook more evenly. “I am a mon of my word.”

“I am sure that you are, Sir Murray. That was not why I frowned. I but wondered how you could vow so adamantly that you would keep me safe when you are as yet uncertain of my innocence.”

“I have told ye, lass, whether I think ye wielded that knife or nay doesnae matter. That bastard deserved to die, and ye dinnae deserve to suffer for what was a righteous killing. The men of your clan should have been the ones to do it, should have made DeVeau pay dearly the first time he raised a hand against you. If ye were forced to do their duty for them, 'tis no fault of yours. Aye, and those kinsmen of yours should be here now,” he added in a hard, angry voice. “They should be all about you, swords raised, to shield you from the carrion the DeVeaux have yapping at your heels. But, since they are too cowardly, then I am more than willing to take up the cause.”

Gisele stared at the fire, struggling to quell a sudden urge to weep—Nigel's defense deeply touched her—but she was not sure she wanted him to know that. As she fought to compose herself, she prayed she was not about to suffer another disappointment or, worse, betrayal. She prayed that Nigel Murray was all he appeared to be, an honorable knight who believed she was worthy of his protection. The reminder that he did not completely believe in her innocence helped calm her. As deeply grateful as she was for his help, that irritated her.

“My family believed that DeVeau was an excellent match, gaining our family both power and wealth,” she said quietly. “I must believe that such things are also of importance in a marriage arrangement in Scotland.”

“Aye,” he admitted reluctantly.

“It is often difficult to make people believe that something is terribly wrong with what they all thought was so perfect. And, to be fair to my family, they are not strange in their belief that a man has the right to discipline his wife. I suspect that not all men, or women, in Scotland believe as you do.”

“Nay, but what DeVeau did to you wasnae discipline, 'twas torture.”

“But my family only had my word on that. Is the rabbit cooked now?”

Nigel grinned. “Ye end a discussion with little subtlety, lass.”

She returned his smile and shrugged. “I find talk of my family's betrayal and lack of trust very uncomfortable.”

“Weel, fill your belly with this fine meat. They say a full stomach can cure many an ill.”

“And they sound most wise.” She laughed softly as he lifted one spitted rabbit from the fire and gently waved it back and forth to cool it. “If you drop that in the dirt one of us is going to go hungry.”

He laughed and handed her the rabbit, taking the second one for himself. Gisele did not think she had ever tasted anything so good, or eaten with such a complete lack of delicacy before. She found it both sad and amusing that sitting in the wood with a man she barely knew, tearing at a cooked rabbit like a savage, could make her feel so alive. Gisele began to wonder if she had been alone and running for her life for too long. It had finally given her a fever of the brain.

Too full to eat any more, Gisele went to where their saddlepacks were, carefully wrapped what was left of her meat, and tucked it in the pack with the rest of their food. She washed her hands and face with a small amount of water, then returned to sit by the fire. Suddenly, she was very tired, and she hastily raised her hand to hide a huge yawn.

“I feel the same, lass,” Nigel said as he wiped his face and hands with a dampened scrap of cloth. “'Tis best if we seek our beds now. I will stand watch if ye wish to slip into the shadows for a moment.”

Gisele hoped that the darkness hid her blushes as she nodded and slipped away. She was finding the lack of privacy hard to endure, although she was not sure why. Privacy had become a rare privilege since she had fled her husband's lands. She had thought that she had become accustomed to the loss. Somehow, being with Nigel had made her painfully aware of it again.

When she returned to the fire Nigel slipped away, and Gisele lectured herself yet again on her foolishness. He had no privacy, either, and it had to be difficult for him as well, although she suspected that men were less troubled by such a thing. It was time, she decided, to stop thinking about herself so much and try to consider Nigel a little more. He had freely offered his protection, but she doubted he had fully considered all of the complications that could arise while racing across France with a woman. She swore that she would try to stop thinking of how hard it was for her, and try to make it easier for him.

The moment Nigel returned he collected their bedding. Gisele quickly took hers from him and laid it out herself. She ignored his smile when he saw that she had made her bed across the fire from him. If he chose to think she was simply enforcing a distance between them, that was fine with her. Soon he would see that she intended to do her share of the work now, not to just sit around and wait to be cared for.

Nigel banked the fire, yanked off his boots, and unbuckled his sword. He set his weapons close to his rough bed in case they were needed in the night. He sprawled on top of the quilted mat, wrapped the thin blanket around himself, and turned on his side to watch Gisele across the fire. She could not fully hide a wince as she eased her body down onto her bed. Nigel started to reach out to her in sympathy, but quickly restrained himself. There was nothing he could do for her. She would just have to endure until she grew harder.

“Ye havenae done much long, hard riding, have ye, lass?”

“
Non
.” She turned on her side to look at him across the dwindling fire. “If I grew weary of riding, I rested. There was no place for me to run to, so my concern was simply to remain hidden.”

“A good strategy.”

“Was it? I am still being hunted.”

“Aye, but ye are also still alive.”

She smiled faintly at that simple truth, then sighed. “It is no longer enough.”

“Nay,” Nigel agreed. “There are too many hounds on your trail now. Mayhap your enemies thought ye would be easy to catch, that a wee lass couldnae escape them for long. They now ken that ye arenae easy prey, and the hunt is truly on. That is why I press ye so hard, lass. Now ye must run, run hard, run fast, and run far.”

“So you have said. Do you truly believe the pursuit is that strong, that unrelenting, now?”

“Aye, I do. 'Tis nay only your husband's kin ye must elude, but as the bounty offered for ye grows near every mon with a greed for some coin will be searching for you.”

“A chilling thought.”

Nigel nodded. “It is, and, although I dinnae like to add to your fears, 'tis one ye must hold fast to. 'Twill keep ye wary of all ye might meet, and that will keep ye alive.”

Gisele murmured in agreement. It was advice well worth heeding. She had lived with fear for the last year, yet as time had passed and she was neither harmed nor captured, she knew it had lost its sharpness. Having a tall, battle-hardened Scot at her side had also made her feel safer. Nigel could not be expected to protect her from everything. He was but one man with one sword. He also did not deserve to face a danger just because she was blissfully ignoring the threat to both their lives.

Until the DeVeaux accepted her claim of innocence her life was in danger, and she was a fool if she ever let that knowledge slip from the fore of her thoughts. Despite the hard ride to reach Scotland as soon as possible, Gisele knew she had done so from time to time. That had to stop. The only thing she should be thinking of at all times was how swiftly and how elusively she and Nigel could reach Scotland.

As she closed her eyes Gisele took one last look at Nigel and decided she could be forgiven her moments of distraction. He was a man who could easily distract even the most strong-minded of women. It was nice to once again think of a man without fear or loathing, but Gisele knew she would need to wait to indulge in that frivolity. She might not be certain of her feelings for Nigel, of how true or deep or well deserved they were, but she was sure that she did not want to be the cause of any harm coming to him.

Nigel watched her fall asleep and inwardly laughed at himself. He meant everything he had told her about why he had made himself her protector, but there were other reasons he had no intention of revealing to her. There was whatever had him lying there staring at her small face like some lovesick youth. It was whatever made him so hungry for her that he found it difficult to sleep. It was also whatever had him aching to heal all of her heart's wounds. If her husband were still alive, Nigel knew he would hunt the man down and kill him with his bare hands.

For the first time in seven years he was alive with emotion. Gisele had yanked him free of his black melancholy with one look from her deep, green eyes. He just wished he were sure of what she had pulled him into, of which emotion he should trust. She looked a lot like the woman he had run away from and, although he wanted to believe he had more sense, he had to wonder if that was why he was so drawn to Gisele. If nothing else, it was only fair to her to try to decide if he truly cared for her or if he were just reaching out to the ghost of Maldie, his brother's wife.

That was something he had to know by the time they reached Scotland, he thought with a grimace as he turned on his back and stared up at the stars. Gisele would see her resemblance to Maldie the minute she set eyes on the woman. If he and Gisele had become lovers by then, he needed to know his own heart and mind, for he would certainly have to explain himself. And he knew that Gisele would not be easy to convince after having suffered so many bitter betrayals.

He closed his eyes and readied himself to go to sleep. He prayed that when the time came that Gisele accepted him as her lover he would at least be certain that he truly wanted Gisele DeVeau, was not simply using her and fooling himself. Using Gisele to sate a hunger for another woman was an insult he could not inflict upon her. The cause of his lust should be easier to discern than the cause of the feelings twisting his insides into knots. For the latter, he mused as he felt sleep weight his body, he was going to need time, a lot of time. Scotland suddenly did not seem that far away.

 

Gisele awoke in a cold sweat. Tense, her hand curled tightly around the handle of her dagger, she listened intently to the sounds of the wood. A soft howling was carried on the wind, and she knew why she was suddenly awake and terrified.

“I hate wolves,” she whispered, a little comforted by the faint agitation of the horses. It was good to know that she was not the only one made uneasy by the wolves.

For several long moments she lay, eyes tightly closed, and tried to ignore the sound. One glance at the peacefully sleeping Nigel told her that he was not worried, so she should not be, either. Her determination to be brave wavered almost immediately as more howls disturbed the peace of the night. It would take a lot more than bold talk and strong will to cure her of her terror of wolves. It was an old and hardened fear. She knew she would not get to sleep lying there trying to ignore them, just as she knew she desperately needed to get some rest. If she became too exhausted she could slow everything down.