Highland Honor [Murray Brothers Book 2]

by Hannah Howell

  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.

  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.

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  Five

  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 di
scipline 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."