Highland Honor (4 page)

“And maybe a lot more?”

“Your suspicions are unwarranted, bonny Gisele. Aye, I willnae lie and say I will treat ye as a nun, but ye may rest assured that I will ne'er take what ye dinnae want to give. Weel, except for this one kiss.”

“I am not sure you will be stealing that,” she whispered.

Nigel lightly tightened his grip on her, deeply aroused by her soft words but suspecting that it would be wise to hide that. He brushed his lips over hers, savoring the sweetness of her trembling mouth. It was undoubtedly dishonorable to even think of seducing a woman who had turned to him for protection, especially one who had been as mistreated as Gisele, but Nigel knew he was going to try to do just that. As he slowly deepened the kiss, he swore that he would do nothing to add to her pain. Instead, he would do all in his power to show her that not all men were like her brutal husband.

Gisele clung to Nigel, timidly opening her mouth when he nudged her lips with his tongue. A war waged inside of her. Passion battled for dominance over fear. Each stroke of his tongue, the feel of his strong body pressed close to hers, called to her passion. It felt good. He felt good. Gisele desperately wanted to cling to that, to begin to learn what the minstrels sang about. But her fear continued to grow.

Suddenly, so swiftly that it nearly blinded her, her fear rose up and killed her passion. She went cold, her body stiffening with panic. Just as she grasped the sense to pull away, Nigel ended the kiss. She closed her eyes as he gently grasped her by the shoulders and held her away from him. After several slow, deep breaths she began to gain control, and cautiously opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes widened when she still saw the warmth of passion in his eyes, a warmth tinged with a look of sadness instead of the anger she had been taught to expect.

“Ye need not fear me, Gisele,” he said quietly.

“I do not believe I do.” She smiled slightly as he released her and handed her the wineskin. “I do know that that fear was not caused by you.”

“I suspected that. Ye have told me the truth, as much as I really need to ken, but I think ye havenae told me everything. Howbeit, that kiss did tell me more than the fact that I wish to kiss ye again. It told me that DeVeau bred a terror in you, a terror so deep and strong that it could kill the passion I felt, sadly brief though it was. For that alone the mon deserved to die.”

She grew still and stared at him as she watched him spread out their blankets. “You think I killed him.”

“Weel, nay and aye.”

“You cannot believe in both my innocence and my guilt. I am either one or the other.”

“Ye are innocent, and dinnae deserve to die. I just havenae decided if ye killed the mon or nay. He deserved to die, Gisele. If it is any comfort, I dinnae see ye as some vicious monkiller. If ye did do it, ye were driven to it by crimes I am nay sure I want to hear about.” He sprawled on his blanket and patted the one spread out beside him. “Come to bed. lass. Ye need to rest. There is a long, hard ride ahead of us, and time to rest may soon be verra hard to find.”

Gisele was stunned and moved to her bed, unable to speak. She had wanted Nigel to believe in her innocence, but he only accepted that she was justified in killing the man. As she curled up in her blanket she wondered why she was not furious and insulted. She supposed it was because he gave her tale more weight than many of her family did. Despite that, she found that she desperately wanted him to believe that she had not killed the man. Although it was good to know that he felt confident she would have been justified, that she would have simply been defending herself, she realized she wanted him to know that she was stronger than that.

“You show me more kindness and understanding than my family does,” she said, turning to look at him. “I should be satisfied with that.”

“But ye are not.”

“I fear not. I am stronger than you think. I would have found another way to get free. By the time we get to Scotland I promise that I will have you believing in my complete innocence.”

“Fair enough. I, too, make a promise.”

“Do I really wish to hear this?” She saw him grin, and silently cursed.

“Nay, probably not, but I feel it only fair that I tell you. Call it a warning if ye will. By the time we get to Scotland I mean to prove to you that not all men are like your husband. I mean to resurrect the passion he killed within you.”

Gisele quickly turned away from him. She felt an odd mix of excitement and terror. Part of her desperately wanted him to be able to fulfill that promise, and part of her was desperately afraid of the same thing. As she closed her eyes, she prayed she would have the strength to allow him to fulfill his promise.

The cold water of the small river felt good against her skin and Gisele ached to immerse herself in it. There was no time, however. Nigel was watering the horses but a few feet away, and he had made it very clear that this would be a brief respite from their travel. For two long days they had ridden from sunrise to sunset with only a few stops. Her whole body ached. Fortunately, she was so exhausted by nightfall that even her extreme discomfort was not enough to rob her of sleep. She could not recall ever having worked so hard to elude her enemies.

She glanced at Nigel. He stood by the horses looking as limber and rested as if he had just risen from a soft, comfortable bed after a long, peaceful night's sleep. It annoyed Gisele, yet she knew it should not. Nigel was a knight, one of a breed who was probably set in a saddle before he could walk. He should look hale, not at all troubled by a few long days of riding. She knew she was jealous of his strength even as she was unsettled by her lack thereof.

As she straightened up from where she knelt by the riverbank, Gisele winced and rubbed at the ache in her lower back. She thanked God that she still wore a page's attire, sure that it had protected her soft skin far better than any gown would have. Gisele just wished she could find something that could protect her aching bones and stiff muscles.

“If ye are quick about it, ye can bathe,” Nigel said as he stepped up beside her.

Gisele started, surprised by his sudden appearance so close at hand. She scowled at his feet, wondering if the soft, deerhide boots he wore aided him in moving around so silently. It was a skill she had envied from the first moment he had revealed it. No matter how hard she tried, however, she could not imitate it.

“I think I need to hang a bell on you,” she muttered as she looked up at him.

Nigel just grinned. “Do ye want a wee bath or nay, lass?”

“You wished to keep riding.”

“Aye, I did. I still do. 'Tis why I say ye must be quick about it.”

As she lightly bit her bottom lip, she glanced around. “There is no place to be private.”

“I will turn my back.” He shrugged when she scowled at him again. “'Tis all I can give you, lass. Ye must choose atween your privacy and your safety.” He placed his hand on his heart and added, “I swear I shall only set my gaze upon the horizon, shall look only for our enemies.”

Since she had entrusted her safety, her very life, into his care, Gisele decided she was being foolish in hesitating to entrust him with her modesty. “Agreed.”

“I mean what I say. Ye must be quick. Heed me on that,” he said even as he turned and walked back to the horses.

After glancing his way to assure herself that he still had his back to her, Gisele began to unlace her
jupon
, then cursed her own stupidity. She could not put these filthy clothes back on once she had bathed. “Sir Nigel,” she called. “I need my saddlepack.”

He tossed it to her with an ease and an accuracy that startled her. The man was proving to have a vast array of skills, she mused as she hastily unpacked her only other set of page's clothes and a drying cloth. Shedding her clothes and tightly clenching the thin sliver of soap she had so carefully preserved throughout her travels, Gisele stepped into the water. She gasped in reaction to the biting chill of the water, then steeled herself to endure it. This could well be her only chance to bathe for quite awhile.

Nigel heard her gasp and almost turned around, then smiled. He realized that it was no cry of alarm, only the sound that most people made when their warm skin hit cold water. There was a part of him that was strongly tempted to use that soft noise as an excuse to turn and look at her, but he forcefully quelled that urge. He had promised her that he would not look, and instinct told him that he would gain far more from holding fast to that promise than from trying to sneak a quick peek like some errant, fevered youth.

Trust was important to Gisele, he was certain of it, and she had had hers betrayed too often. It would take a lot of hard work to make her trust him, but he was determined to try. Bluntly telling her that he intended to be her lover was, perhaps, not the best start, but at least he had been completely honest. There had been, as yet, very little time to begin his seduction, but she had been fairly warned. Nigel also knew that, as he attempted to pull her passion free of the fears that still held it captive, he would have to convince her that not all men were brutish swine who felt it was their godgiven right to treat a woman cruelly.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Some would say that seducing a woman when he was not sure if he wished to claim her as his wife was cruel. He tried not to look at it that way. Gisele was a widow, so he would not be stealing her innocence. And if she
had
murdered her husband, then she was certainly strong enough and willful enough to accept or deny a lover. No matter how long or hard he thought on the matter, however, he could not shake the uneasy feeling that he might be allowing his strong desire for her to lead him astray. He could find himself adding to her pain instead of healing it.

And how much of his passion was born of the challenge she presented, of a chance to turn a frightened woman made cold by betrayal and brutality into a passionate lover? He quickly shook that thought away. Nigel was sure that his vanity had little to do with his desire for Gisele, although it was probably the only thing he
was
sure of. Gisele was a puzzle, and the way she drew him to her was an even bigger one.

“You may turn around now,” Gisele called, yanking him free of his unwelcome thoughts.

Even as he looked at her she stopped rubbing her hair with the drying cloth, and Nigel had to bite back a grin. Her short hair was a mass of wild curls, several tumbling alluringly onto her forehead. No man could look at her now and think that she was a boy, despite her clothing. He reached into his bag and pulled out a cap.

“I think ye had best put this on,” he advised.

Gisele frowned as she took the dull, brown cap made of a rough, homespun cloth. “It is not cold.”

“Nay, but I think that will now aid your disguise. Trust me, lass. Your hair now makes ye look verra much like a woman.”

“Oh.” She reached up to touch her damp hair, felt all the thick, wild curls, and grimaced as she tugged on the cap. “I should have recalled how it grows after it has been cut. I had to have it all shaved off once when I was but a child, because of a wretched fever I was suffering with, and it grew just like this. It was most unmanageable until it gained some length and weight. Then these foolish curls became waves. Mayhap I should cut it again.”

“Nay. Soon it willnae matter if all who see ye ken that ye are a lass. The cap isnae verra bonny, but it will do what is needed for now. Next I shall ask ye to allow me a wee moment or two of privacy.” He removed some clean clothing from his saddlepack.

“Oh. You wish to bathe?”

“We Scots do so from time to time.”

“And from all I have heard of your land you should be well accustomed to cold water.”

“Aye, it can be colder in Scotland. The weather doesnae pamper us there as it does ye French. Now, I best be about my bath. Turn your back, lass,” he said, as he started to walk away. Then he looked over his shoulder at her before she had completely turned around. “Of course, if ye wish to take a wee peek, I willnae fault ye for it,” he added, and winked.

Gisele decided not to grace that impertinence with a reply, and completely turned her back on him. Despite her best efforts, however, a small grin crossed her face. It quickly disappeared when she realized that she was tempted to look at him, strongly tempted. It was that which made her hesitate to take ‘a wee peek'. That could be all that was needed to dangerously enhance an already growing attraction. His face was certainly pleasing to her eye. She knew it could be perilous indeed to discover that his body was, as well.

It could, however, be a good test of how deep and pervasive her fears were, she mused as she idly stroked her horse's nose. Her husband had used his manhood like a weapon, hurting her and debasing her. Gisele knew that the cruel things he had done to her had made her afraid of a man's embrace. If that fear could also be stirred by simply viewing a naked man, it could prove that she was far more deeply scarred than she had guessed. When she realized that she could not recall a time since her husband's death that she had seen a man unclothed despite her rough travels, Gisele wondered if she had been purposely avoiding such a sight. The fact that she had not glimpsed even one in the time she had been with the army—not even Guy, despite sharing a tent with him—seemed to confirm that. She did not like the thought that DeVeau had made her that much a coward.

Although a small voice told her that she was just making excuses so that she could look at a man who intrigued her, Gisele moved to stand in front of her horse. With her side toward Nigel instead of her back, it would be easier to steal a look or two and not be caught. Curiosity also drove her to take the risk, she decided, and grimaced, for it had always been a fault of hers. Gisele just wanted to know what she would feel if she caught a look of his partly or fully unclothed form.

She moved so that her horse's nose was between her and Nigel, praying that that would be enough to hide her indiscretion. A deep breath steadied her, and she raised her gaze toward the river. She had dawdled for so long in deciding that he was already finished with his bath. He stood on the riverbank rubbing himself down with a large drying cloth. His tall, lean body shone gold in the sun. His broad back was toward her, and Gisele found herself wondering what his smooth skin would feel like beneath her hands. She quickly looked down his body, admiring his trim waist, his slim, well-shaped backside, and his long, perfectly formed, muscular legs. When she caught herself hoping he would turn around, she sucked in her breath so sharply she choked and began to cough.

“Are ye all right?” Nigel asked, frowning toward a badly coughing Gisele as he hastily pulled on his clothes.

“
Oui
,” she gasped, stumbling to the river's edge and drinking some water from her cupped hands.

Since she had ceased to cough, Nigel took the time to lace up his shirt, don his jupon, and tug on his boots. “Ye arenae ailing with something, are ye?”

“
Non
.” She lightly splashed some of the cool water on her face, praying she did not look as warm or as agitated as she felt. “I but gagged on a bug, I am thinking.”

He grinned at her as he laced on his boots. “If ye are that greedy for some meat, lass, I will go ahunting when we stop to camp for the night.”

“What an amusing fellow you are, Sir Murray.” She hastily rinsed her travel-stained clothes in the water and wrung them out. “I assume you kept your drinking companions crippled with laughter.” She tied a strip of rawhide around her clothes and hung them from her saddlepack, hoping they would dry and not simply get filthy again.

Nigel did the same with his clothes, then watched her closely as they mounted. “So ye heard a few tales about me, did ye?” he asked as he led her away from the small river.

Gisele wondered if she should make a polite denial, then decided that it would be best if she were honest. “Guy said you favored wine and women. He also told me that he had seen none of that in the days that he watched you.”

“He watched me, did he?”

“You knew our secrets. He would have been a fool not to.”

“Aye, true enough.” Nigel fidgeted with his reins. She had not asked for any explanation, but he felt compelled to say something. “I didnae leave Scotland simply because I had a hunger to kill the English.” He winked at her. “Although most of my kind would say that was reason enough.”

“Most of my kind would, as well. In truth, at times I wonder how there can be so many men still left, for the killing has continued for many years.”

“Oh, aye, and I believe 'twill continue long after we have turned to dust. But, e'en though 'tis much the same in my land, 'tis still not what brought me here.”

“You owe me no explanations, Sir Murray,” she said quietly, for she could sense his discomfort and reluctance.

“Weel, something must be said. Ye have placed your life in my hands, as has Guy. 'Tis only fair that ye ken it was a wise decision. Aye, I drank a lot when there was no battle to fight. And, aye, I sought out the company of women more often than was wise and, at times, with a greed that was a sort of madness. The fighting, the drinking, and, I am ashamed to admit, the women, were all used for but one purpose.”

“To forget?” That was something Gisele found very easy to understand.

Nigel sighed and nodded. “Aye, 'tis the sad truth of it. I have spent seven long years of my life, nay, wasted it, trying to forget. My only salvation is that I never dishonored my clan in battle. I may not have been fighting for the right reasons, but I always fought weel, fought fairly, and chose my battles wisely.”

“That is no small thing, Sir Murray.” Gisele desperately wanted to ask what he had been trying so hard to forget, but she did not feel she had the right to press for a truth he could not offer freely. “And have you forgotten?” was as much as she dared to ask. “If you would find it painful or dangerous to return home, we could find safety elsewhere.”

“Nay, there is no safety for you in this land, and I ken only this place and Scotland. Ere I first discovered ye and Guy by the river I had decided that it was time to return. I woke up in the mud unable to recall how I got there and, shall we say, saw the folly of my life. 'Tis time to leave this embattled land and return to my kin.” He met her gaze and smiled faintly. “Ye need not fear. I am nay a hunted mon. I willnae be leading ye away from your enemies just to face down some of my own.”

Gisele smiled back, then inwardly sighed with disappointment when he returned his attention to the faint, little used trail they followed. At least for now he was not going to tell her why he had fled his home, nor why he had buried his heart and mind in battle, drink, and women. For a brief moment, she was angry. He had insisted that she tell him all of her secrets, yet he was unwilling to reciprocate. Gisele then told herself not to be so foolish. Nigel needed to know everything about her troubles so that he would know what dangers they would face. There was no need for her to know his secrets. They did not affect their safety at all.