Highland Honor (13 page)

“You picked a poor cause to give your life for,” drawled the DeVeau man.

“No, you picked poorly,” Nigel replied in his heavily accented French, silently cursing when he realized he could never reach his dagger in time to deflect the death blow. “I may meet my death before you do, but at least I will not go with my soul stained by the crime of hunting down and killing a young, innocent girl simply to fatten my purse.”

The man snarled a curse and raised his sword, preparing to plunge it deep into Nigel's heart. Nigel braced for the blow, but it never came. He stared up at his attacker in open-mouthed astonishment, barely shifting out of the way when the man's sword slipped from his hand. Protruding from the man's thick neck was the hilt of a dagger that Nigel easily recognized. The man frantically clawed at the knife in his throat even as he slowly collapsed onto the ground. DeVeau's hound died quickly, his life's blood pouring out of his body with a speed that even Nigel found unsettling. Clutching at the wound in his side, Nigel slowly sat up and stared at a white-faced Gisele standing stiffly by a nearby rock.

“A good throw, lass,” he said, and was relieved to see her shudder a little. Then she turned her too wide but clear gaze toward him.

“I was aiming for his sword arm,” she said in an unsteady, husky voice as she began to walk toward him.

“Poor lass. I had intended to scold you for nay staying where I had told ye to when I was finished with that rogue.” He smiled faintly. “I believe I may find it in my heart to forgive ye for that impertinence”

“Better a little forgiveness in your heart than cold, hard steel. Is it a bad wound?” she asked as she knelt by his side.

Nigel moved his bloodsoaked hand and frowned at the gash in his side. “I am nay sure, but I think it may be a wee bit more severe than I had first thought, and 'tis bleeding most freely.”

Gisele forced herself to pay attention to Nigel and only Nigel. She felt chilled by what she had done, her blood still running cold in her veins, but she could not allow herself the time to think about it now. Nigel was wounded, and he was right—his blood was flowing rather freely. Keeping him hale and alive was far more important than any soul-searching she might do to try to decide if she had been right or wrong to kill a man.

“Nay, lass,” Nigel said when she moved to tear a strip of cloth from her shirt so that she could bandage his wound. “If ye can stomach it, take what ye need from one of those men. We cannae be sure how long we will have to hide, and ye may have need of that shirt.”

He was right, but she felt the sting of bile in the back of her throat as she moved toward the man he had killed. To her deep dismay she had to look carefully to find a part of his shirt that was clean enough to temporarily bind Nigel's wound. As soon as she had torn off the strip of cloth she needed, she hurried back to Nigel's side.

“This wound needs to be cleaned and stitched closed,” she said, as she wound the cloth tightly around the wound to slow the bleeding.

Gisele tried to sound calm, but she suspected that some of her fear had slipped into her voice, for Nigel watched her closely. She decided to let him think that her fear had been stirred by what she had been forced to do. If he guessed that it was because she was terrified that he could sicken and die it could be upsetting for him, and it could tell him far too much about her feelings. Until she could decide how much weight to give his remark about the bounty, the very last thing she wished him to guess was that she was coming to care for him.

“I cannot properly tend your wound here,” she said, “but I do not know where to go. We need somewhere safe and hidden away.”

“There is no one left to tell the DeVeaux where to find us.”

“True,” she reluctantly admitted. “That is not our greatest problem, however. You will need rest and shelter for a while until this wound is healed enough for you to ride again. If all goes well, that could be in just a few days, but we both know it could easily be a lot longer.”

Nigel cursed. “I have done a poor job today.”

“
Non
. There were six of them and only one of you. There are now six dead men, and you have but one wound. I do not see that as doing a poor job. Do you know of some place where we might seek some shelter? I have begun to think that you know this land better than I do.”

“Some parts of it, aye, quite possibly. There is a cave in these hills. I rested there when I first came to France.” He sat up, wincing a little. “I will take us there.”

She helped him stand, letting him drape his arm over her shoulders and rest some of his weight on her. “What about our horses?”

“I fear ye will have to come back and collect them, and I am going to have to ask ye to do a distasteful chore.”

“The dead men?” She fought to maintain a steady footing as she helped him walk yet let him lead.

“Aye, lass. The three bodies on the hillside should be pushed or dragged back down. Let the carrion find them there, far away from us. Ye must strip them all of anything that could be of use to us. If any of their mounts are still about, keep one, strip the rest of what we might use, and then set all the others free. We can use that one as a packhorse. Can ye do all of that?”

Gisele only hesitated a moment before nodding. It would be a grizzly, horrifying chore, but she recognized the wisdom of his instructions. It was impossible for her to bury all six men to keep the scavengers away, so the only other choice was to make sure the bodies were nowhere near them. They also had a need for supplies, since they might well be holed up somewhere for days. She had a strong distaste for taking from the dead, but she knew she would be a fool to let that make her throw away things that could help her and Nigel survive.

“The cave is just behind that rock there, lass,” Nigel said.

She frowned as she looked at him. He was pale and bathed in sweat. The walk to the cave had badly sapped his strength. Leaving him slumped against a rock, she cleared a path through the brush in front of the cave opening As carefully as she was able to without a torch, she checked the cave for signs of animals, then helped Nigel to get inside.

“I will see to our horses first,” she said, “for they have what I need to tend to your wound and make you more comfortable. I shall be right back.”

“Take my dagger with ye, sweeting.”

She suddenly recalled that her dagger still rested in the dead man's neck, that it would have to be retrieved. Then she hastily pushed that horrifying thought aside. Nodding, she took Nigel's dagger and hurried away to get their horses. She found one of the DeVeau horses lingering close to hers and Nigel's. Tethering it so that she could deal with it later, she led their horses back to the cave. It took a little coaxing, but she finally managed to pull the reluctant animals through the opening that was almost too narrow. Then she left them in the far corner near the mouth of the cave and hastily took all she needed from the saddlepacks.

After she removed Nigel's shirt and
jupon
, he was barely conscious. Gisele worked on his wound as swiftly as she could. Once the injury was washed, stitched, and bandaged with clean rags, she spread out their bedding. Nigel was so unsteady she almost had to carry him to the bed. It took only a moment of scurrying around outside of the cave to collect enough wood to make a small fire.

When the fire was lit she checked carefully to make sure that the smoke from the fire was leaving the cave. To her relief it appeared that the cave had a great many holes, ones she could not see but would obviously do a very good job of keeping the air within the cave clean. Gisele prayed that those holes were not so numerous or large that she and Nigel would find that they had no more protection than if they had bedded down outside if it rained.

Certain that Nigel was asleep, Gisele took a long drink of wine to steady herself and went to take care of the bodies and gather what supplies she could. It nearly made her ill, but she even managed to extract her dagger from the man she had killed before pushing him off the hill. All of the horses lingered in the area, and after stripping them of their saddles and packs she set free all but the one she had tethered earlier. It took her two trips back to the cave to bring in all she had gathered. She had even taken some blankets, but she left them outside, unsure of their cleanliness. Nigel might need them for some added warmth, but she was certain he would not be helped much if those extra blankets were filthy and infested with vermin.

Exhausted, she washed herself off, forced a little water into Nigel, and then crawled into bed beside him. As she closed her eyes she paused to pray that Nigel would recover from his wound fully and quickly. She hated to admit it, for it made her feel very helpless, but she needed him hale, strong, and by her side. The battle to stay alive had become larger than she could deal with alone. For now, she was all that stood between them and a horde of DeVeaux searching the whole of the country, eager to catch or kill them. Gisele knew she made a very small shield. With Nigel at her side she had begun to feel safer than she had for a long time, but she suspected that she was going to become fully reacquainted with fear until Nigel was well again.

“Why are ye here?”

Gisele woke up so suddenly that she found herself short of breath. She looked at Nigel, and her eyes widened. He was staring at her as if she were a ghost, and his eyes were glazed. She touched his cheek, and felt her heart skip with fear. He was very hot.

“Ye shouldnae be here,” he rasped, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “I fled home and hearth because of you. Have ye naught better to do than continue to torment me?”

Afraid that his agitation would reopen his wound, she scrambled out of his hold. He fell back onto the bed, softly cursing whoever it was that his fevered mind told him was here at his side. As Gisele got some water to bathe his face, she realized that he spoke of a woman.

It took several moments of washing his face and forcing him to drink some water before he grew calm again. Gisele continued to bathe his heated body as he slowly fell into a restless sleep. She felt an urge to weep, and knowing the reason why did not make her feel any better.

Nigel was still tormented by the woman he had left behind, still cared for the woman. Gisele realized that she had begun to nurture some hope, however small, that one day she and Nigel might share more than a sweet passion. It was clear that his heart was still in firm bondage to another. It would be hard enough to fight for him if her rival were real, and near at hand. Gisele doubted that anyone could fight the cherished but unattainable dream to which he still clung.

For a brief moment she decided that she would put an end to the lovemaking they indulged in so greedily once he was well again. She did not wish to be used just to soften the hard edges of a memory. Then she sighed and softly cursed her own weaknesses. She did not want to give up the passion she enjoyed so much. There was also a chance that she did not want to give up—the obviously very tiny chance that there might be more between them—but she did not dare to consider that possibility for too long. She had more than enough trouble on her plate. The last thing she needed to start thinking about was what she did or did not feel for Nigel Murray. And there was also the fact that she could not completely fault him if he were using her, knowingly or unknowingly. She was using him, too—to protect her, to fight for her, and to show her what passion should be.

She knew she was going to have to firmly confront her feelings at some point, however. If she lost this battle for her life, it did not really matter what she did or did not feel. She planned to survive, was intending to do everything necessary to clear her name, so the moment of truth lurked upon the horizon. Gisele grimaced as she rose to tend to the horses She hoped she would have enough strength to face that truth when the time came.

 

Gisele frowned, wondering why she was awake. A glance toward the mouth of the cave told her that it was not yet morning. After two days of nursing Nigel through a fever this was the first time she had been able to sleep for more than an hour or two. It annoyed her that, for no apparent reason, she was wide awake.

Her heart skipped painfully as she suddenly feared there had been some dire change in Nigel's condition and that had been what had wakened her. She turned cautiously, almost afraid to look at him. Tentatively, she touched his forehead, and felt weak with relief. He was cool and damp. In fact, he was soaked with sweat. His fever had finally broken.

She quickly rose to get him a clean shirt and some water to wash him down. The cool air hit the back of her shirt and, as she shivered from a sudden chill, Gisele realized that it was damp. That was obviously what had woken her. She quickly changed her shirt before gathering what she needed for Nigel.

When she tugged off Nigel's shirt he roused and looked at her. Gisele was a little surprised at the depth of emotion she felt when she saw that his eyes were clear and bright, all signs of the fever gone. Matters were obviously getting far more complicated than she had realized, she thought with an inward sigh. There might not be as much time as she had hoped before she had to face up to a few hard, cold facts. Her heart was obviously clamoring for her to heed it. For now, however, she could easily avoid any uncomfortable soul searching by keeping all of her attention fixed firmly on getting Nigel well and strong again.

“I have been unweel?” he asked in a hoarse voice, greedily accepting the drink of water she gave him.

“
Oui
, a little,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice as she began to wash the sweat from his body. “I am thinking you took a fever because I did not tend to your wound fast enough.”

“Ye couldnae have done it any faster, lass.” He gritted his teeth against the pain as she changed his bandage.

“Mayhap not. The delay allowed the bad humors to seep into your body, however. But now you will soon be fine again,
oui?
”

“Aye, but we are losing precious days hiding here. How many so far?”

“Two days. This will be the third.” She watched him pale as she helped him into his shirt, but he made no sound. “I have seen no one, heard no one approach this place, so I believe that we are quite safe here.”

“Weel, we must still leave here as soon as possible,” he mumbled, weakened by enduring the pain of his wound, as he closed his eyes.

“Not until I feel that you may ride your horse without endangering yourself by ripping open your stitches or weakening yourself so much that your fever returns.”

“That could take days.”

“Then we shall take those days. There is no good served if we leave so quickly it makes you weak and ill.”

Nigel knew she was right but he did not like it, and softly cursed. “We could easily be trapped here.”

She dampened a cloth with cool water and gently bathed his face. He needed to be calm, but she was not sure what she could do or say to accomplish that. There was a great deal that could go wrong the longer they lingered in one place. She could not really argue the facts that caused him such concern. Lingering where they were for so long troubled her, as well.

“This place is not easy to find, and I have left no sign of our presence where anyone can see it,” she said in a soft voice meant to soothe him. “I have even taken the horses' leavings far away from here, dragging the muck away in one of the filthy blankets I took from those men.” She shivered slightly. “I have been tossing it down on top of the bodies. In truth, each time I go out for wood I toss a few things down onto those bodies. Rocks, wood that is no good for burning, anything I find that can be thrown down. I do not wish to go near them nor see them, yet I feel somewhat compelled to try to cover them.”

“Whatever your reasons, 'tis nay a bad idea. It will hide them from view, and throwing manure on them may also work to keep scavengers away.”

“I do not believe the horses have produced enough for that, yet. I am but trying to tell you to be at ease. We are truly hidden here. If it troubles you so greatly to remain in one place then rest, regain your strength as quickly as possible. The sooner you are strong enough to ride, the sooner we may leave this place.”

He opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “And you will make sure that I hold fast to that plan, willnae ye?”

“I will, Sir Murray. You may be assured of that.”

She smiled when he laughed softly and then closed his eyes. It took only a few moments for him to fall asleep again. Gisele watched him for a long time, saw no sign of any alarming changes in his soft, even breathing or the return of his fever, and she breathed a long sigh of relief. It was too soon to be certain that Nigel was beginning to recover from his wound, but she had hope now, something that had been sorely depleted in the last two days.

Yawning widely, Gisele moved to tend to the horses She took the manure away and collected some wood for the fire on her way back to the cave. After washing her face and hands, she sprawled on the bedding next to Nigel. He would not be patient with the pace of his recovery, be it fast or slow. Gisele knew that, it would become more important that she be well rested, her wits sharp, as he got stronger. For that she needed sleep, and it was time to try and recoup all she had lost while he had been wracked with fever.

 

Gisele waited patiently for Nigel to go back to sleep. He had been free of any sign of fever for almost two days, and she felt she could relax her close guard over him. Every time he had woken up she had made him drink plenty of water or wine, as much as she could force down his throat, until he swore he would soon wash away down the hillside. She had also made him eat something. At first it had only been a few bites of stale bread, but the amount he ate had slowly increased, even in the course of the first feverless day. It was good that he was eating well, for it would help him regain his strength, but it had also caused a new problem for her to deal with. They were rapidly running out of food.

There was really only one answer to that problem. She had spent several hours trying to think of another, any other, but there was nothing. They needed some supplies. She could not hunt, and there was nothing left to scavenge in the area. All she had was coin to go and buy something. There was a small village to the west. She had seen it one of the times she had been out searching for wood for the fire.

Nigel was going to be furious, she mused as she slipped out of the cave, dragging her reluctant horse with her. She briefly peeked back inside the cave to reassure herself that Nigel still slept, then hurried down the hill toward the village. It was going to be a risky venture, for she had quickly seen that her disguise fooled very few. She had not seen any of DeVeau's men, but knew that did not mean that they were not around. She and Nigel had been caught by surprise before, and this time she did not have the assistance of Nigel's sharp eyes to scout the area. Gisele knew that if Nigel were hale and had his wits about him he would probably tie her up before he would allow her to go anywhere alone. If he woke up before she could safely return, Gisele suspected he would find the strength to scold her soundly and loudly. She just hoped that if she could return safe and successful, her saddlepacks weighted with food, he would forgive her. A full belly was said to be the cure for a man's ill humor.

Despite assuring herself that she could ride in, get all she needed, and quickly ride out again without any difficulty, Gisele felt her heart clench with fear as she entered the village. Suddenly, she wondered if what she was about to do was pure madness. Then she shook her head. Nigel was now as recognizable as she was, so it did not really matter which one of them showed his face. And she could not wait until he was well enough to watch her back. If she did not get them some food, the man might never get well. If she refused to take a risk, hid away in the cave out of fear, she and Nigel could easily starve to death or—she shuddered at the thought—be forced to dine on one of their horses. She stiffened her spine and kept riding, trying to keep a subtle but close eye on everyone and everything.

Gisele walked into the small, dark baker's shop and inwardly sighed as the man closely watched her approach. “I need three loaves,” she said in a deep, firm voice.

“What game do you play with me, child?” the burly, sweat-soaked baker demanded.

“No game. I am here to buy some bread.”

“Do not play the innocent. You must think me the greatest of fools if you believe a dirty cap and a youth's clothes will make me think that you are a boy. So, why has a girl dressed herself so?”

She inwardly cursed but struggled to look very young and mournful. “I try no trickery, kind sir. I am an orphan. My only family is my cousin, and he rides to join the army. There was nowhere near our home where he could safely leave me behind. I but try to hide as his page until we can find a convent where the good nuns will accept a poor girl into their care.” She breathed a silent sigh of relief when he nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile.

“It is a shame that the good sisters cannot afford to take in all who need care and guidance,” he said, as he gave her the bread and watched her count out her coin. “Your cousin should not let you wander about alone, however. He does you a great kindness by taking you under his protection, but he risks your life and virtue by sending you out alone and unguarded.”

“I will tell him, sir.”

“You do so, and return to his side as quickly as you are able.”

“I am nearly done here, sir,” she said, as she hurried out of the shop.

Although the man she bought the cheese from and the other merchants she fleetingly dealt with did not feel compelled to give her any advice, it was clear to see upon their faces that they knew exactly what she was. Her saddlepacks finally filled with all she needed, Gisele was more than happy to hurry out of the village. It did not really surprise her when she saw a small group of armed men riding toward the village. She did not even bother to look to be sure that they were DeVeau men. Instinct told her that they were, and her luck had been very poor of late. She rode for the shelter of the trees, trying to keep a good, fast pace and not look as if she were trying to flee and thus raise the men's suspicions.

She hissed a vicious curse when a sly glance behind her revealed that the men had slowed their pace and were looking her way. It took all of Gisele's willpower not to kick her horse into a gallop and flee as fast as she could. Her body held so taut it was painful, she rode into the trees, listening intently for any sign of pursuit.

When she felt sure she was hidden from their sight, she reined in, dismounted, and crept back until she could see the men. She was pleased with her stealth although she would need a lot more practice to be as soft of tread as Nigel. It alarmed her a little to see that they had stopped. They kept looking her way and arguing with each other. She tensed when one man started to slowly ride her way, then breathed a hearty sigh of relief when his companions called him back. The men finally continued on into the village, but Gisele maintained her vigil for several long moments to assure herself that they would not change their minds again and come hieing after her. The last thing she wanted to do was lead them back to the cave, trapping her and a helpless Nigel inside.