Highland Honor (15 page)

Nigel suddenly pulled her away from him, and Gisele frowned, a little uncertain. He had made it clear that he enjoyed what she was doing to him, but perhaps she had finally gone too far. Although she had only done what he had asked of her, her readiness to do so might finally have dismayed him. Her passion was running so high that she did not really have the wit to figure out what he was feeling. He certainly looked as if he were also held tightly in passion's grip, but she feared she might just be seeing a reflection of all she was feeling.

He slowly dragged her up his body. Gisele tried to stop when she straddled him and join their bodies, but he kept tugging at her. She gasped in a mixture of shock and anticipated pleasure when he pulled her all the way up his body. She guessed what he was about to do, but even as she thought about rejecting such a bold intimacy, his lips touched her heated skin and she relented.

A kiss on the inside of each of her thighs was all that was needed to make her open to him, to welcome his most intimate kiss. Gisele lost all sense of where she was, of what she was doing, was only aware of the pleasure coursing through her body. Even as she felt her release draw nigh and called out to him, he dragged her down his body and united them. Trembling, caught up in the force of her desire, she moved upon him with a nearly frenzied greed, finally collapsing in his arms even as he held her tightly against him. He groaned her name as he filled her with the warmth of his release. After a moment, he silently eased the intimacy of their embrace and held her in his arms, brushing light, almost sleepy kisses against her face as their breathing slowed.

It was a long time before Gisele could speak, even longer before she felt she could look at Nigel without blushing. She had behaved very wantonly. Many might even whisper that she acted no better than a whore. Gisele began to wonder if Nigel might also question her morals now that his blood had cooled.

Turning on her side, she ran her hand over his wound to assure herself that their lovemaking had not harmed him in any way. Then she studied him and smiled slightly, her fears easing. His eyes were closed, his features softened by encroaching sleep, and the hint of a smile was on his tempting lips. Nigel Murray certainly looked like a fully satisfied man.

“Nigel?” She lazily smoothed her hand over his broad, smooth chest.

“What, sweeting?” He tugged her a little closer and aimlessly planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I have a strong feeling that the penances we shall have to pay are piling up very high.”

He laughed. “Aye, shameless fools that we are.”

“Well, I have no need to worry.” She watched him closely. “I am sure that those penances shall pale in comparison to what I shall have to do to wash away the blood upon my poor, small hands.”

Nigel opened one eye and looked at her. Ye can be verra devious when ye have a mind to be, Gisele.”

She grinned. “Thank you.”

It did not surprise her that he had so easily guessed her ploy, the somewhat thin attempt to get him to proclaim her innocence in some gentlemanly attempt to ease her mind. It was odd, but his refusal to openly declare her innocent of murdering her husband was growing less troublesome by the day. She no longer felt that it was some deep insult, simply saw it as a small irritation. Gisele supposed it was hard to get angry that he believed she had killed her husband when he did not fault her or condemn her for it in any way. And, she mused, although she had not committed the murder she had certainly savored the thought of it time and time again. The church said that impure thoughts were sinful. She suspected ones about brutally murdering one's husband were, as well.

She frowned as she suddenly realized that getting the DeVeaux to admit she was innocent might not be enough to fully clear her name. The hunting of her would stop, but would the whispers of her guilt? She doubted that, and felt a little sad. It would be good to be free, to not have to look over her shoulder every waking minute, but she realized that her life would never again be the same. Although she had accepted that all she had to do to stay alive would destroy her good name and place her chastity in question, she now knew in her heart that she would still suffer the blemish of being an accused murderess, as well. There really was no returning to the blissfully ignorant young girl she had been before her marriage.

“I shouldnae worry too much about what the church frowns upon, lass,” Nigel said, breaking into her dark thoughts as he closed his eyes again.

“How can you say such a thing?” She gave him a gentle, punitive slap on the chest. “Do you not worry about the state of your soul? Do you wish to go to hell?”

“Nay, I just dinnae think God wishes to crowd the black halls of hell with so many wee sinners when there are so many bigger ones, so many truly evil men who desperately need to go there. Howbeit, if it will make ye feel more at ease, once we are safe in Scotland ye may go and bruise your bonny knees praying at some altar for forgiveness.”

“Nigel! Your impertinence could carry a high price. Do you not fear losing your chance at absolution?” she asked, trying to act horrified by his callous attitude toward piety yet finding herself agreeing with it.

“Nay. I do all I can to follow God's commandments. I praise Him, I respect Him, and I follow His laws as closely as my poor weak flesh will allow me to. As I see it, there isnae much else a mon can do.”

“
Non
, I suppose not, although I think many a priest would heartily disagree with you.”

“Aye, but I dinnae always have much faith in priests. I have met many that are as weak as any mon, and some who should be roasting in hell alongside the men they have condemned to the place.”

“You must have met a few good ones, as well.”

“A few, aye. Dinnae frown so, loving.” He kissed the line between her eyes. “I am nay turning into a heathen. 'Tis just that I cannae help but be wary of any mon who has the power priests do, oftimes more power than the king. Aye, there are good ones who truly feel the call of God and wish to do good, to save souls. There are also those who use their office merely to enrich themselves and indulge in some verra earthly pleasures and the pursuit of power.”

She nodded. “I have heard of a few of those myself. Too many men enter the monasteries and priesthood simply because they are younger sons and have no other means to support themselves.”

“They can live by their sword, gain power and wealth through honorable service to their laird or their king.”

“True.” She laughed softly as she rested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. “I pray that you are right in all you believe, for I fear I am of a like mind.”

“Weel then, lass, together we shall go to heaven to sing with the angels or roast in the stinking fires of hell. And now, if ye dinnae mind, I shall end this weighty talk and go to sleep.”

“A very good idea,” she mumbled, already more asleep than awake.

Nigel kissed the top of her head and smiled to himself. He realized that this tiny woman probably knew as much about what he thought and felt as his brothers did. When she asked her odd, sometimes piercing, questions, he felt no reticence in replying completely and honestly. Her passion was unrestrained, and she could set his blood afire. His friends and family would think him mad to be so undecided about her, to still doubt what he felt or wanted. They would undoubtedly urge him to get her before a priest as soon as possible, and a part of him agreed that he should be doing just that. Yet, in a way, he felt that his doubt and hesitation were fair to Gisele. How could he ask her to give him her heart when he was not sure he could ever do the same?

Nigel inwardly shook his head, knowing that the time for some decision was rapidly drawing near, yet shying away from it. If he decided wrongly they could both suffer. All he could do was pray that some enlightenment would come before he hurt Gisele so much there was no mending it.

“Ye need to hold the sword more firmly, loving,” Nigel said as he picked up the sword he had just knocked from Gisele's hand and handed it back to her.

“I think you try much too hard to show me the true depths of my weakness and ineptitude,” she muttered, but tried to hold the sword more firmly as she faced him again.

“Nay, I but try hard to help ye overcome them.”

She cursed as they began their mock battle once again, the sound of their clashing swords echoing loudly in the small clearing they had chosen for their camp. It had been three days since she had removed Nigel's stitches, and each evening since then Nigel had taken time to try to teach her how to use a sword when they had stopped to camp for the night. Gisele was sorely disappointed over how long it was taking her to learn even the simplest thrust or parry. And what purpose was being served by holding a sword when it could so easily be knocked out of her hands? She suspected that Nigel was very good, but his skill seemed to be discouraging her more than it was helping her.

“Curse it to seven kinds of hell,” she snapped as he knocked the sword from her grasp yet again, and she stuck her badly stinging fingers into her mouth in a vain effort to soothe them.

“Ye take this all too much to heart,” he said, taking her hand out of her mouth and kissing her still damp fingers before tugging her over to the fire he had built earlier.

“Our lessons are done, are they?” she asked as she sat down, breathing deeply of the delicious scent of the roasting rabbit and once again thanking God for Nigel's hunting skill.

“Once your arm grows weary there is no gain in continuing,” he answered as he sat down, drew his dagger from its sheath, and cut the rabbit into two equal shares. “Ye just need to hold your weapon more firmly.”

“Or learn how to avoid that blow which is sure to strike it from my hand.”

“Aye, that too,” he agreed with a smile.

As soon as they had finished eating and cleaned up after their meal, Gisele was able to cajole Nigel into one more mock battle. He carefully instructed her for what had to be the hundredth time on how to hold her sword, and even tried to explain to her which blow to try to avoid. She used that knowledge well, if not exactly in the way he had intended. After several successful parrys, she boldly struck, crying out with delight as she knocked the sword from his hands. Even though she suspected he had allowed the blow to be successful just to show her that she had done it correctly, she was pleased with her success. Gisele held her sword out threateningly, pointing it directly at Nigel's heart. Her eyes widened when he suddenly stepped closer, allowing the tip of her sword to touch his chest.

“And now ye must kill the mon,” he said quietly, watching her very closely as he spoke.

Gisele's eyes grew so wide he suspected they would begin to sting her in a moment. She also grew very pale and her hand trembled slightly, causing the point of her sword to pluck at the cloth of his
jupon
. Nigel inwardly smiled as he suddenly and finally decided upon her complete innocence. Gisele had never killed a man, might never be able to. Even in anger, perhaps even in fear for her life, she would hesitate to strike a death blow. He could see the truth of that in her eyes. She had probably not been lying when she had said she had aimed her dagger at his attacker's sword arm back at the cave. He reached out and gently took the sword from her hands.

“Mayhap this is not such a good idea,” she murmured, wondering how she could have so foolish as to forget what fighting with swords was meant to accomplish—death. She might be learning how to protect herself, but she was also learning how to kill people.

“Nay, ye have the right of it,” he said, as he led her toward their bed spread out next to the fire. “Your life is in danger, and 'tis wise for ye to try to learn how to hold the killers back.”

“I am not sure I could kill a man,” she whispered, “and that is the true purpose of fighting, is it not?”

“Aye, sometimes, especially when someone is trying to kill you. One doesnae always have to kill. At times, a wee poke or a small drawing of blood is more than enough to turn aside the threat. And ye cannae be certain what ye might be able to do when ye are truly faced with the choice of kill or die. No one can be.”

She said nothing as they stripped down to their shirts and braies and crawled beneath their blankets. Nigel tugged her into his arms, and she snuggled into his warmth, then frantically tried to smother a large yawn. He chuckled softly, and gently kissed the top of her head. She had not been his lover for very long, but she recognized that tender gesture as his way of saying that it was acceptable if they just went to sleep. Their journey was rapidly coming to an end, and although Gisele hated to lose any chance to savor the passion they could share since she could not be sure how much longer they would be together, she decided that she would get some much needed rest, instead.

As she allowed sleep to slowly tighten its grip on her, she considered the right and wrong of her decision to learn how to fight. There were more people than she cared to count hunting her down all across France. If she were not killed by one of the men after her bounty, then she would be killed when she was handed over to the nearest DeVeau. It seemed foolish to hesitate to kill any one of them. All of her reasons for wanting to learn how to use a sword were still sound. She just needed to gain the spine to learn the skill and use it well. Tomorrow, she decided firmly, she would begin all over again.

 

“Are ye sure, lass?” Nigel asked as he drew his sword and faced her.

He fought the urge to smile as he looked at her. She stood facing him squarely, the heavy sword held firmly in her small hands with admirable skill. Her pretty face was set in stubborn, serious lines, but that look of strength was softened by the way she lightly bit her full bottom lip. Nigel knew she would be angered and probably heartily insulted if he told her she was adorable. She certainly did not look like much of a threat, and if she could gain a reasonable skill with the weapon that could prove to be a very desirable advantage.

“I am sure,” she replied as she began to stalk him.

“Ye werenae verra sure last eve,” he reminded her as they cautiously circled each other, preparing for their mock battle.

“I but had a moment of weakness. Some clear thinking has cured me of that.”

“So, 'tis now kill or be killed?”

“That is the corner the DeVeaux push me into.”

“I was hoping that ye would recognize that hard truth. “Tis most admirable for a wee lass to possess the quality of mercy, but when she is facing men who want her dead mercy becomes a weakness they will certainly take swift advantage of.”

“I know, so I have stiffened my spine and hardened my heart.”

“Wise lass. Just remember that ye arenae fighting them now,” he added with a smile, and then he struck.

Gisele easily blocked the swing of his sword, and he nodded in approval. For a while he restrained himself, not using his full strength as they fought. He was a little surprised at how rapidly her skill with the weapon had improved. Nigel realized that Gisele had not only decided to keep at her lessons, but had come to understand that fighting was merely another means to insure her continued survival, that a sword could indeed be used to kill but it could also be used to stay alive. Gisele would probably never have the strength to be a truly lethal fighter, certainly not in a battle that required excessive endurance, but she had gained the spirit and determination to be a good one.

Slowly he increased the force of his attack. Each time he blocked her sword he told her how he had done it, and how she could possibly evade that. She was already growing tired, and he knew that she needed to learn more subtleties in her fighting style. It would be skill, a keen eye, and cleverness that won the battle for Gisele. She had more strength than many women, but she could never endure a long, hard battle with a fully grown man, not without a few clever tricks up her sleeve.

She cursed when he knocked the sword from her hand. “Mayhap I am wrong, and there truly are just some things that a woman cannot do.”

“Nay, lass, ye are doing verra weel, better than I had thought ye would.”

“Oh. Good. I do hate to be wrong.” She smiled when he laughed, then accepted her sword back and sheathed it. “It is kind of you to flatter me, but I still lose my sword each time we play this game.”

“Ye lose it because ye grow weary. Ye need to gain some strength in your sword arm. Ye also need to learn more guile, more subtleties. I think it is wit and speed that will win the battle for you.”

“So I must be careful to chose only stupid and slow men to fight with,” she drawled.

“It wouldnae hurt.”

Gisele shook her head, unable to fully repress a smile when he laughed. It stung a little to be told that she was not strong enough to hold her own against a man, but she knew it was true. She was tiny even in comparison to other women. If she ever had to face a man sword to sword, she suspected the battle would be delayed while he had himself a hearty laugh. There was certainly very little chance that she could win a battle on strength alone. She trailed after Nigel as he moved to build a fire, wondering exactly what he meant by wit and speed. Were there some tricks to it all that he had yet to show her?

“Wit and speed can win a battle?” she asked as she took the food from their saddlepacks.

“Of course. Not every knight is a truly skilled fighter, one who battles with grace and thought behind every move he makes. Some knights just hack away at their foe, back him into a corner through sheer brutish strength, and then cut him down.”

She frowned as she spread out their bedding and sat down. “That does not sound very glorious or honorable.”

“Mayhap not, but it can work, and the knight survives the battle.” He handed her some bread and cheese as he sat down beside her. “That knight might weel recognize that he doesnae have verra much skill and ne'er will, so he uses his only true advantages over others, his size, and his strength. Now,
ye
can ne'er depend upon size and strength, so ye must learn to think carefully, to watch your opponent's every move with keen eyes, and to move with a speed and grace that keep ye out of reach of his sword until ye can find a chance to strike cleanly and quickly. And how ye strike is also important. Ye cannae just keep poking at a mon. Ye must learn how to strike him so that he cannae keep fighting you. That is how ye will survive.”

“What you are telling me is that I must learn how to survive until I can kill my enemy,” she murmured as she accepted the wineskin from him and took a long drink.

“Aye, lass, cold as it sounds, that is exactly what ye must do. Recognize your weaknesses and find a way to spite them.” He leaned back on his elbows and smiled at her. “I think ye could learn to skip about so swiftly ye could make your enemy fair dizzy from trying to watch you. Ye are already verra good at seeing a blow coming and blocking it. Ye just need to gain the strength in your sword arm so that a blow doesnae knock your sword aside and leave ye helpless.”

She grimaced and rubbed her arm. It was aching from all the swordplay she had indulged in the last few days. Gisele was not sure she could gain much more strength in it without damaging the poor thing, but she was determined to try. She was willing to concede that she could not win a battle on strength alone, that she needed skill and speed, but she refused to believe that she might always remain too weak to fight at all.

“Then I believe you had best begin to teach me such things,” she said, smiling faintly when he tugged her down into his arms. “I pray I shall ne'er have to put all of these skills to the test, for I have no wish to kill or maim a man, but I do not wish to feel helpless again.”

“Ye dinnae have to fight all who confront you,” he said, as he began to tug off her clothes, starting with her swordbelt. “Ye can still just run and hide.” He began to fear that by teaching her some skill with a sword he was imbuing her with a dangerous bravado.

“I know that, and it will always be my first choice. Do not fear that I will now decide to challenge all who chase me down. I may feel less helpless as I gain some skill with a sword, but having a weapon in my hands will not steal away my wits.”

Gisele smiled when he began to kiss her throat as he unlaced her shirt. His slightest caress always made her feel so wanton. The soft flatteries he whispered against her skin as he honored her breasts with heated kisses were pleasing, but completely unnecessary. She suspected he could stir her with silence as long as he kept touching her. It struck her as a little odd that hands which had been trained to a sword, hands that could so easily kill a man, could be so gentle and enticing.

He removed the last of her clothing and crouched over her for a moment, studying her in the soft light of the fire. Gisele found his warm, appreciative gaze exciting and, smiling invitingly, she stretched languorously beneath him. She laughed softly when he hastily returned to her arms. His hungry kiss stifled her amusement but stirred her passion. No longer shocked by the way he made love to her, she readily gave him free access to her body as he kissed and stroked her from head to toe and back again. She even eagerly accepted his intimate kiss, gently arching her body in greedy welcome, threading her fingers in his hair as he took her to passion's heights with just a kiss.

She barely had time to catch her breath when he began to restir her passion. Cold air swept over her heated skin when he sat up to strip off his clothes, and she shivered. Just as he tossed aside the last piece of his clothing she sat up and began to give him the same pleasure he had given her. Now that she knew what he liked, she felt no shyness or hesitation. She savored the way he groaned out his appreciation as she loved him with her mouth.

A soft laugh escaped her when Nigel abruptly stopped her play. It changed to a sigh of delight when he slowly joined her body with his, while still seated on their bedding easing her down until she straddled him. With only the slightest prompting from him, she began to move, struggling to control her soaring passion so that they could linger in that exquisite moment of intense desire that came just before release. Then he leaned her back over his arm and slowly drew the hardened tip of her breast deep into his mouth. A heartbeat later Gisele lost all control. She was vaguely aware that Nigel also became somewhat frenzied as they drove themselves blindly toward release.