Highland Honor (24 page)

Dawn's light had barely begun to grace the sky when he was striding to the stables, a sleepy-eyed Eric trailing behind him, asking, “Are ye sure ye dinnae want me to come along?”

“Aye, laddie,” Nigel answered as he saddled his horse. “Go back to bed.”

“It may help to have two pairs of eyes looking for the lass's trail.”

“Nay, for her horse leaves a distinctive marking upon the ground. I had meant to get the beast reshod for fear others would recognize her trail as easily as I could, but I ne'er got the chance. I am heartily glad of that now.”

“And, ye wish to be alone with her when ye find her,” Eric said carefully, watching his brother closely as the man led his horse out of the stable.

“Aye.” He mounted and smiled down at Eric. “There is a lot I must tell that foolish lass, and I think I would rather do that alone.”

“Will ye go to the port where ye came in and wait for her there?”

“I would if I could trust the lass to find her way back there, but she has an inclination to get lost. Dinnae fret o'er me, lad. I will find her and I will bring her back, if I dinnae throttle her for worrying me half to death.”

He waved farewell to his laughing brother as he rode out of Donncoill's gates, but his confidence quickly wavered. Gisele had already been gone for hours, tempting danger. Even if he found her safe and alive, he might find that he was wrong about why she left Donncoill. She might have run away from him. It was not a thought he found very comforting as he began to follow her clear trail.

 

Gisele grimaced as she dismounted and looked at her horse's hoof. She was barely an hour's ride from the village where she had spent a restless night when the horse had begun to favor its right front hoof. To her relief it was merely a pebble caught in his shoe, but she decided to walk for a while to see if the animal had suffered any bruising or serious injury. It was clear, however, that she would not cover very many miles today, and that both disappointed and worried her.

Now that she had decided what must be done she was eager to get it over with, despite her fears. She also did not want to linger in Scotland for any longer than it took to get to a port. That would give Nigel a better chance of finding her and trying to stop her. She had to be free of the DeVeaux before she could even consider a life with the man, but she was sure he would not understand that.

A soft noise behind her drew her out of her thoughts, and she looked around. Although she saw nothing, her insides tightened with fear. Something was out there, lurking in the shadows of the trees. She glanced at her horse, saw that it still limped slightly, and cursed. Even if she mounted quickly and spurred the animal to a gallop, she would not get very far before she had to stop again. She could also harm the animal beyond repair.

The sharp sound of a twig snapping sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She put her hand on her sword, thanking God that, she had retained the wit to bring the weapon despite her upset and confusion as she had left Donncoill. Since there was no hope of escaping whatever danger trailed her, Gisele quickly tethered her horse. If she survived whatever or whomever crept her way, she did not want to look around afterward and find that her horse had been frightened away.

Out of the shadows emerged two filthy, poorly dressed men, and Gisele swiftly drew her sword. They grinned widely, and she felt anger begin to push its way through her fear. Men were so arrogant. She might not equal them in size and strength, but she was suddenly eager to show them that their derision of her skill was seriously misplaced.

“If you have followed me from the village thinking to enrich your paltry selves, I should turn back now,” she said, pleased with the hard, cold tone of her voice. “I have naught of any worth.”

“Ye arenae a Scot,” muttered the shorter of the two men.

“A clever thief,” she drawled. “I am all atremble.”

The way both men narrowed their eyes beneath the shaggy tendrils of their filthy hair told Gisele that insulting them might not be wise, but she shrugged aside that doubt. They had come here to rob her, perhaps even to rape and kill her. She did not think sweetness and flattery would change their minds. Deriding them helped her to remain calm, and gave her some small sense of satisfaction.

“Ye may not have the coin we seek, although I am thinking your purse isnae empty, but there be one or two other wee things we can help ourselves to,” said the shorter man.

“Aye,” agreed his tall, skinny companion. “Like your horse, that fine bauble dangling on your neck, and your wee bonny self, eh, Malcolm?”

“Ye have the right of it, Andrew,” Malcolm agreed, and he edged closer to Gisele.

“Come any closer, you filthy bastards, and I will ensure that you do not have anything left to take me with,” she threatened, and was momentarily pleased to see them both take a step back.

“Ye ought to be more kindly, lass,” said Malcolm. “It could make this a wee bit easier on ye. Aye, we may e'en leave ye alive.”

“Your kindness overwhelms me.” She set herself into her fighting stance and watched both men frown. “Are you prepared to pay for such small gains with one or both of your meager lives?”

They hesitated yet again, and Gisele knew it was because her stance told them she might not be as unskilled as they had first thought. She prayed that they were both craven cowards. If they were, it might take only one small bloodletting for them to decide she was not the easy prey they had thought she was and flee.

Malcolm struck first, and Gisele easily deflected his crude sword thrust. He was no fighter, wielding his weapon more like an axe or a stick, but she told herself not to get too confident. Andrew stood by, agape with surprise and uncertainty. She prayed that would continue, for she could not fight two men at once. After just a few moments, Malcolm stepped back, sweating and softly cursing.

“I believe you may now understand that this will be no easy work,” she said, using the respite to recoup the strength she had used.

“Aye, Malcolm,” muttered Andrew. “I dinnae see that she has anything worth dying for.”

“The lass cannae hold firm long enough to kill me, fool,” snapped Malcolm who then glared at his companion. “'Twould go a lot faster if ye stepped in to give me a hand.”

Andrew frowned and rubbed a dirty hand over his weak chin. “Weel, I am nay sure I have the stomach for fighting with a wee lass.”

Gisele allowed herself a brief inner sigh of relief. Here was a weakness she might take advantage of. Although Andrew was no more than a lowly thief, he obviously had some vague sense of what was right, some line he would not cross. She just had to hope that Malcolm, the obvious leader of the pair, could not talk the man into crossing that line.

“Ye would rather stand by and watch me slaughtered?” Malcolm yelled.

“Weel, nay, but ye just said that she couldnae kill you.” Andrew took a cautious step back when Malcolm faced him, sword in hand. “I dinnae think it will help matters if ye start hacking away at me.”

“We can get good money for that horse,” Malcolm said in a softer, cajoling voice.

“I think he be lame.”

“Nay. We watched her take the pebble out. 'Tis but a wee tenderness that will pass. That bauble she wears is worth a fine purseful, as weel. And, my friend, how long has it been since ye had any lass as fine as this one, eh?”

“Aye, there is that.”

This was not going well, Gisele decided, her brief flicker of hope swiftly dying. Andrew was slowly allowing avarice to win out over what few morals he had. She struggled against letting her growing fear cloud her mind. If they both confronted her she had no chance, but she would not just give up her life. They would be forced to pay dearly for accosting her. They would also be forced to kill her, she decided with an oddly calming sense of resignation. She would do all in her power not to become a victim of rape, and if that meant dying by one of their swords, then she would die.

“Come, lad, give us a hand. Together we can knock the sword from her hands and then all will be ours—the horse, the necklace, and the lass. We can have us a fine time.”

“Sorry, lass,” Andrew said as he stood next to Malcolm, his sword in his hand. “A mon has to eat, ye ken.”

“I did not realize that rape put food on the table,” she said.

“Nay, it doesnae,” said Malcolm, “but it can make a mon enjoy the meal more. Now, if ye were a clever lass ye would put that wee sword down and let us be about our business. Ye will suffer less that way.”

“And I think the lass is clever enough to ken that ye are the greatest of liars,” drawled a cold, deep voice from behind the two men.

Gisele stared at Nigel with the same look of complete surprise that contorted the two thieves' faces. How did the man keep finding her? Although his arrival was heartily welcomed at this precise moment, she knew that would be short-lived. He was going to be asking her a lot of questions, and she knew he would not like her answers. Standing firm against Nigel might prove to be harder than standing against Malcolm and Andrew.

She shook free of her shock and watched the two thieves. For one brief moment they faced Nigel squarely, then Malcolm began to slink away, edging toward the trees. A minute later Andrew realized that his companion had every intention of deserting him, and quickly followed. Nigel made one swift lunge at the two men, who immediately turned tail and disappeared into the surrounding trees. It annoyed Gisele that Nigel could inspire such fear while all she seemed to inspire was amusement and annoyance.

The moment the men were gone Gisele sheathed her sword and heard Nigel do the same. She took a deep breath to strengthen herself and looked at him, then inwardly winced. He did not look happy with her.

“I think we will return to the village now,” Nigel said as he grabbed the reins of her horse before she could and then watched the animal take a few hesitant steps. “Ye have done well, havenae ye? But one night alone and ye have nearly got yourself raped and killed, and ye have crippled this poor beast.”

“He is not crippled,” she snapped, following behind Nigel as they walked to where he had tethered his mount. “He had a pebble in his hoof, and is but a little tender. It will heal.”

Nigel gave her a look that made Gisele decide it might be best to remain quiet for a while. He lifted her up onto his saddle, hooked her horse's reins over the pommel, and then mounted in front of her. She ached to tell him that he was being arrogant and had no right to order her around, but the confrontation with the robbers had left her doubting her own judgment. Nasty and spiteful though his words had been, there was some truth in them. She had been on her own for only a little while and had already found herself in serious difficulty. Maybe she had been mad to think she could get all the way back to France on her own.

All the way back to the village she struggled to think of ways to defend her decision to leave. Her confidence had been badly shaken, however, and she was no longer sure her reasons were sound. Had she really been running to France to clear her name, or had she been running from Nigel and the feelings she had for him? Gisele inwardly cursed when she discovered that she had no answer for that question.

The innkeeper gave her a strange look when Nigel ordered the same room she had left but a few hours before. The man probably thought she was Nigel's errant wife, and Gisele opened her mouth to try to explain, then quickly closed it. It was all too complicated to explain, and she would probably just leave the man thinking she was mad.

The moment they entered the room she pulled free of Nigel's grip on her arm and sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned against the thick, roughly cut post at the foot of the bed and stared at her. It took all of Gisele's willpower to not squirm guiltily beneath his gaze like some scolded child. She had nothing to feel guilty about, she told herself firmly.

“And just where did ye think ye were going?” he finally asked, struggling to control his anger.

When he had first come upon her in the wood he had nearly charged in, sword swinging. He had been that furious and concerned. It had not taken him long to see that she faced two cowards who might be willing to test themselves against a small lass, but would never stand to fight a fully armed knight. Although the fear he had felt for her safety had eased, the anger it had bred was still churning inside of him. Gisele did not completely deserve that, and he knew visiting it upon her would also seriously hinder any sensible discussion.

“I was returning to France,” she replied, mildly fascinated by the way the anger slowly left his expression.

“Ah, ye are weary of life, are ye? Suicide being such a great sin, I suppose it makes some sense to just walk back into the grasp of those ye ken will gladly kill you.”

He might be conquering his anger, she mused, but he clearly had no intention of dulling the sharp edge of his tongue. “I intended to go home and clear my name. I decided that I had left that duty in the hands of others for far too long. Hiding behind others was not working, so I felt it was past time to try confrontation.”

“Did ye really convince yourself that the DeVeaux could be talked to as if they were reasoning people?”

She scowled at him. The man had a true skill for finding the one real weakness in a plan. “They are not the only ones I could plead my case to.”

“Weel, now there is no need to plead it to anyone,” he said and thrust a piece of paper at her.

Gisele had to read the letter three times before she was able to believe in the words written there. “I am free?”

“Verra free, and the DeVeaux have been warned to leave ye and your kinsmen alone or suffer unnamed consequences. That threat came from the king himself. 'Tis clear that your family wielded almost as much power as the DeVeaux, once they decided to believe in you and seek to prove your innocence.”

“But they seemed so afraid of that family and its wealth and power.”

“Outrage over your treatment must have conquered that fear.”

“I feel so grateful, so elated, yet this freedom comes at a great cost to others. Two men have been hanged.”

“They were the true killers, lass,” he said gently. “Your husband deserved his death, but that doesnae mean the way he was killed was right or lawful. And, those two men were content to sit quietly and let a wee lass take the blame. In a way, they were willing to kill ye, as weel. 'Twas honorable of them to avenge the rape and beating of a kinswoman, but that honor was tarnished when they let an innocent woman take the blame.”

“I know. 'Tis just a shame that they had to die, that there was apparently no other recourse but murder to gain the justice they and their poor kinswoman so deserved.”

“So now there is no need for ye to go to France and martyr yourself. Ye may return to Donncoill with me.”

He watched her closely as he spoke, taking careful note of her sudden agitation. She would not meet his gaze, and absently plucked at the old, thinning blanket covering the tiny bed. Getting her to return to Donncoill with him was not going to be as easy as he had hoped it would be.

“Since I am free, there is no longer a need for your protection. You have fulfilled your vow. Your honor is unstained.” Gisele did not want Nigel clinging to her out of some misplaced sense of duty.

Nigel moved to sit next to her, ignoring the way she tensed slightly as he pulled her into his arms. “Honor has naught to do with why I ask ye to return to Donncoill with me.”

“I do not need a place to live. I am not without funds, and I have a small property I may reside upon.”

“Nor do I ask ye to return with me out of some misguided sense of duty.”

She softly cursed, but did not resist him as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, neatly tugging her around until she was sprawled beneath him. He too quickly guessed her every doubt and concern, yet somehow managed not to tell her what she wished, and needed, to hear. The feel of his long body on top of hers, however, was making it difficult to think. It had been too long since she had tasted the passion they could share. It was easy to let wanting push aside all interest in talk.

“I will not become your mistress,” she said even as she tilted her head back so that he could more easily cover her throat with warm, tantalizing kisses.

“I wasnae asking it of ye.”

Before she could muster the wit to ask him just what he did intend, he kissed her. The hunger in his kiss brought her own rushing to the fore, unwilling to be ignored or brushed aside. She wrapped her arms around him and fully returned his kiss. Gisele knew she was giving him a silent but clear agreement to set aside all talk for a little while, to once again revel in the heat of their passion, but decided that it did not matter. As she had ridden away from Donncoill one sharp regret she had suffered from was that she had not made love with Nigel one last time. If she still had to walk away from him at the end of this day, at least she would not suffer from that regret.

They had been apart for too long for the reunion of their bodies to be a lingering pleasure or a gentle one. Gisele tugged off his clothes as swiftly as he tugged off hers. They both shuddered when their bodies finally touched flesh to flesh. She found that she could not get enough of the feel or the taste of him, touching and kissing every inch of his strong body. Nigel returned her every kiss and caress with the same fevered urgency until they both shook from the strength of their need for each other.

She cried out with eager welcome when Nigel finally joined their bodies. Wrapping her limbs around him, she greedily met every thrust of his body. The way their voices blended as they found release as one only enhanced the pleasure rushing through her body. Gisele held him close as he collapsed in her arms, and fought to cling to the mind-clouding delight they had just enjoyed. She did not want to think, but as her breathing slowed and her heartbeat returned to its normal pace, she knew she could not lie there drunk with passion and just ignore the world.

Nigel reluctantly eased the intimacy of their embrace. He glanced at Gisele's small hand as she moved it absently over his chest, then looked at her face. Her gaze was fixed with stubborn firmness on the movement of her hand. Although it was tempting to just make love until they both fell into an exhausted sleep, he knew that now was not the time for that. Neither of them might wish to talk, but they had to. He gently grasped her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. It was another moment longer before she allowed her gaze to meet his.

“Mayhap I have wooed ye too gently,” he said, “and that has led to naught but confusion.”

She inwardly tensed, wary of what he might say, but calmly replied, “You showed a true skill for the art of wooing.”

“Thank ye, but I clearly wasnae skilled enough to make ye stay with me, was I?”

“I was going to France to clear my name, no more. As I have said, it came to me that I was asking others to face a danger I myself was too cowardly to face.”

“And ye are certain ye werenae running from what my wooing would lead to?”

“I was not sure where that might end,” she said quietly, briefly looking away from his intent gaze. He did not need to know all of the doubts she had suffered from.

“Where all wooing is meant to end—with marriage. Ye left ere I could ask ye to be my wife.”

Her heart skipped so hard it was almost painful, but she found herself not to let false hope and the lingering sweet memory of the passion they had just shared cloud her wits. “Why?”

“Why?” He frowned at her in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why were you going to ask me to be your wife?”

“Lass, ye are supposed to say ‘aye' or ‘nay,' not ‘why'.”

“I need to know why before I can say ‘aye' or ‘nay'. Nigel, until you got the word from France that I was innocent, you still thought me capable of butchering a man.”

“Nay.” He grimaced when she eyed him with a hint of suspicion. “Do ye recall the time I was teaching you how to use a sword, that first time that ye disarmed me and I said that was when ye must strike the death blow?” Gisele slowly nodded. “The way ye looked was enough to tell me that ye hadnae killed your husband. Aye, if ye were in a fight for your life or in a fight for mine, ye could kill, as ye showed me the day I was wounded. But, nay, not coldly and brutally as was done to your husband.”

“You might have told me when you had this revelation.”

“I am sorry, lass. I meant to, but there were a few other things I needed to think on at the time.”

Gisele smiled and lightly caressed his cheek. “I know. Soothing my hurt feelings was of small importance, and I realize I should have been satisfied that you thought me worthy of your protection and help.” She cocked one eyebrow and drawled, “And you have still not answered my question.”

“What we have just shared wasnae answer enough?” When she just frowned, he added, “I asked your family for their blessing, and they have given it. Ye must ken by now that my family would eagerly welcome ye into the clan.”

Nigel was not sure why he was so reluctant to say the words he knew she wanted to hear. He was, he realized, a complete coward. After the hurt he had inflicted upon her by not telling her all about Maldie, he knew he owed Gisele the full truth now. No one deserved the baring of his soul more than Gisele did, but he could not seem to force the words past his lips. He needed some hint from her that his words of love would be welcomed and returned.

Gisele wondered if shaking Nigel vigorously would make the words she sought fall out of his mouth. She was beginning to think that he loved her, or was very close to doing so. His almost embarrassed reluctance to speak of anything but family approval and passion was her strongest hint. Nigel had a true skill with words, could easily convince her that she would be a fool to refuse his proposal, yet never speak of love. He seemed unable to muster that skill at the moment.

That left her with two choices. She could either accept his proposal, allow him to think that talk of passion and family approval was enough for her, or she could hold out until he was forced to say more. She did not have the patience for the latter and the first, she mused, could easily lead to dissatisfaction and unhappiness. There was one way to pull the words from him, and that was to make the confession first. It was a gamble. She could be wrong in thinking that his feelings for her were deeper than passion, and it would hurt to speak of love and get no vow in return. Gisele inwardly shrugged. The rest of her life was at stake. It was worth the risk.

“Nigel, I am honored that you would ask me to be your wife. It is certainly pleasing to know that my family as well as your own will approve of the match. I do not believe I need to say that I enjoy the passion we share, and would be more than willing to continue indulging in that pleasure. But, I fear all of that is not enough.”