Highland Honor [Murray Brothers Book 2]

by Hannah Howell

  "Is something amiss?” Gisele asked, wondering why Nigel was no longer leading her but flanking her, his hand resting on his sword.

  "I am nay sure,” he replied.

  "But you sense some danger, do you not?"

  "I do, but I see nothing and hear nothing."

  Gisele looked around, even though she doubted she had keener eyes or could ever see something Nigel could not. “Your instincts have not failed us thus far. I believe it would be wise to heed them now."

  "Aye, then let us ride for those hills to the west. ‘Twill be easier to evade pursuit there."

  They had barely kicked their horses into a gallop when half a dozen men rode out of the trees. The cry that went up from their pursuers told Gisele that these were DeVeau men, but she still felt a need to glance back just to be sure. What she saw made her blood run cold. It was the DeVeaux, without any doubt, and this time they had a couple of archers riding with them, men who appeared ready and able to shoot even as they rode. Gisele was about to shout this dire news to Nigel when an arrow whistled by her head. She flattened herself against the neck of her horse and shouted a warning.

  Nigel cursed and also bent low in the saddle. This was a new and chilling danger. When it was just swordsmen they faced, being seen and chased had meant little more than the discomfort of a long hard ride, losing them, and hiding. Archers meant it was now deadly to even be seen from a distance, and these men were well within range of their targets.

  It was now much more important to reach the hills. There they could seek shelter and—he glanced down at the bow and quiver of arrows hanging from his saddle—have a chance to fight back. There were six of them and Gisele could not fight, but Nigel felt he could hold his own if he could find a position of strength to fight from. If he were fortunate there would be some cowards in the group, men who would readily try to run down two people, but would waver and flee when faced with a hard fight.

  He looked at Gisele, pleased to see that she was not only holding steady at his side, but had made herself a very small target. This heated, deadly pursuit told him that they no longer had any secrets from their enemies. The DeVeaux clearly knew that Gisele was not alone, knew who she rode with, knew that she was dressed as a lad, and that they were trying very hard to get to a port. He had guessed some of that bad news, and David had also warned him, but this made it all horrifyingly clear. The DeVeaux were determined not to let Gisele leave France alive. The long miles left to reach a port were going to have to be traveled very cautiously, hiding every step of the way.

  Encircling the hills was a thick, dark forest that did not thin out until it nearly touched the rocky base. Nigel felt a hint of relief when they entered it far ahead of their pursuers. The distance he and Gisele had gained had not protected them from the arrows, but it would allow them a few minutes to hide from sight within the trees. He signaled Gisele to ride close behind him. Although he ached to put his body between her and their enemies, he had to lead them, for Gisele had no idea where they were going.

  Gisele took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself after the hard gallop. The archers had added a new terror. She was not sure how Nigel could protect them from that. Before today, their biggest fear had been that they would be trapped with no place to run to, no way to even reach their horses. Now it appeared that they were safe only if they stayed miles away from her enemies or remained hidden. This was going to make reaching Scotland a great deal more treacherous.

  She trembled, unable to fully hide her fear as she heard their enemies’ voices echo in the forest surrounding them. It was hard not to be afraid even though she trusted Nigel to keep her safe. These men wanted them dead.

  What had she ever done to deserve this, she thought. A moment later she forcefully shook away that attack of self-pity and the encroaching sense of helplessness. Nigel needed her to be alert to his every move, to any signal he might make. Bemoaning the injustice of it all would not keep them alive.

  "Dismount, lass,” Nigel whispered even as he slipped from his saddle.

  Although she immediately did as he ordered, she asked in a hushed voice, “We have not lost them, have we?"

  "Nay, but we cannae ride up such a steep slope, nay silently."

  Her eyes widened slightly as he led her up a rock strewn hillside. The hills had not looked so rough or steep from a distance. Gisele suddenly wondered where Nigel had led her. This was not the soft, gentle land she had grown up with. When they had a moment to talk, she decided that she would ask the man where they were and where they were going. As long as they found places to be safe, places to hide, she supposed it did not really matter, but she was increasingly curious. It was also somewhat annoying that a Scot knew her land better than she did.

  Suddenly Nigel grabbed her reins. She stood quietly as he tethered the horses in a sheltered area. When he took her by the hand and led her higher up into the rocks and wind-contorted trees, she had to bite her lip to keep from asking what his plan was. The fact that he was carrying his bow and arrows told her that he might be thinking of making a stand, and that made her uneasy.

  Nigel halted, leaned against a large rock, and then notched an arrow in his bow. When he looked down the hillside, over the rock, Gisele cautiously edged to his side and also looked down. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the men who were hunting them riding close together amongst the thinning trees at the base of the hill.

  "Do you think you can kill all six of them?” she asked softly, not really sympathizing with the men who wished to kill her and Nigel, but a little horrified by the growing toll of lives her quest for freedom was exacting.

  "Nay, but I may take one or two down ere the others gather the wit to scatter and hide,” he replied, deciding to aim for the two archers who had put them in such danger.

  "And the others?"

  "I am praying that they are cowards who will run when they realize we arenae easy game to trap."

  It was not the best plan she had ever heard, but Gisele decided that there was probably no other. As she huddled behind the rock she knew she would be hard pressed to devise another one. She needed to learn to fight, she decided. Her lack of skill had been no problem when all they had done was run and hide, but, now, as they faced six men eager to kill them, it was a dangerous hindrance. It should be two against six, not one. If nothing else, Nigel had no one to guard his back. The best that she could do was to shout a warning.

  A scream sounded from below and she closed her eyes. She heard the soft but deadly sound of Nigel releasing a second arrow, heard a second scream, and felt sickened by the relief that swept over her. Reminding herself that it was a matter of kill or be killed only soothed her dismay a little. Death was chilling to see, and these men were also dying unshriven. They had been given no chance to atone for what she expected were a great many sins. It made their deaths doubly troublesome. Gisele knew, however, that deep in her heart she much preferred it to be them rather than her or Nigel.

  "Only one coward turned and fled,” Nigel announced even as he let loose another arrow. “Now there are just two,” he said coldly as a scream rose up from below, followed by a great deal of shouting and cursing.

  "I fear it sounds as if you have just infuriated the last two,” she murmured.

  He smiled as he set down his bow and arrows and reassured himself that his sword and dagger were at the ready. “I mean to do a great deal more than that."

  "What are you planning to do?"

  "Hunt them for a change."

  "Nigel,” she protested.

  He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Stay here, lass, and keep your wee dagger at hand. I dinnae think ye will be needing it, but ‘tis always wise to be at the ready."

  She cursed as he slipped away before she could offer any argument. Nigel undoubtedly knew what he was doing, but she did not like it. At least when he was by her side she knew exactly how he fared. Now she could only wait and wonder who was going to win. Gisele slipped her dagger from its sheath and
prayed that Nigel was as good a fighter as she thought he was.

  Nigel crept through the rocks. He had decided that it was best if he took the fight away from Gisele. When he heard his foes noisily advancing, he almost smiled. It could prove to be a lot easier than he had thought it would be. Anger drove the men onward, and anger could make them reckless.

  When he found the first man, Nigel almost felt guilty. The man was completely unaware of the danger creeping up behind him while he sat on a rock, wiping the sweat from his face. Nigel had to wonder if his unease over cutting a man down from behind was what made him suddenly clumsy. He slipped ever so slightly on a moss-covered rock, and the faint sound he made was enough to alert the man.

  As he drew his sword, Nigel was pleased to see that he still held the advantage of surprise. The man moved awkwardly, fumbling as he drew his own sword. The fight was over quickly, but, unfortunately, not quietly. The clash of swords sounded like thunder in the quiet hills, and the man died screaming. Nigel was not surprised to hear the man's companion calling out for him. Neither man had revealed any appreciation for the value of stealth.

  Hoping to turn this event to his advantage, Nigel swiftly moved away from the body. The other man's yelling had told him where the man was, as did his noisy approach. What he wanted to do was try to meet him halfway, to catch the fool as he scrambled blindly over the rocks to try to reach his companion.

  This one was not going to be as easy to cut down, Nigel decided when he finally saw the man. He was not moving over the hills with any grace, but he had his sword at the ready and was very watchful. Nigel waited until the man reached a particularly awkward spot, one where a defense would be difficult, and confronted him.

  "Ah, the bastard Scot who now runs with that murdering she-wolf,” the man snarled in French as, sword held firmly, he tried to sidle along onto a better footing. “Where is the little bitch?"

  "Where you shall never find her,” Nigel replied in French, carefully trying to judge the shorter, heavier man's strengths.

  "So, swine, you try to keep the bounty for yourself."

  "You would believe that. After all, what man would not covet such a heavy purse?"

  Gisele clapped her hand over her mouth to smother her gasp. She crouched behind a nearby rock and heartily cursed herself for not staying where Nigel had left her. The moment she had heard a man scream she had been unable to just sit and wait to find out Nigel's fate. Now, instead of waiting in fretful ignorance, she heard him speak of the bounty on her head in a way that left her wondering all over again if she could really trust him. She tried to ease her hurt by telling herself that it was nothing but an empty taunt tossed out by a man preparing to fight to the death, but that only helped a little. Betrayal after betrayal had finally taught her to be cautious, and although Nigel's remark may have been no more than a sardonic reply to an enemy's accusation, she knew it would be wise to remember it.

  She peered over the rock just in time to see the DeVeau man lunge at Nigel. A part of her wanted desperately to close her eyes and just pray, but she forced herself to watch. Nigel might need her help, she thought as she held her dagger tightly in her small hand. He might have just shaken the trust she had begun to have in him in one careless statement, but she certainly did not want to see him hurt.

  When Nigel cut the man down she felt little more than relief. As Nigel wiped his sword on the dead man's jupon, Gisele wondered if she could sneak away without him hearing or seeing her. Then she saw movement at Nigel's back and she forgot all need to hide, standing up and crying out a warning.

  Nigel spun around just in time to stop the attacker from stabbing him in the back. “So, the coward returns,” he said, as he struggled to stand up and gain a more solid footing.

  "No coward, fool, but a wise man."

  "It is wise to come back here to die?"

  "Not to die, but to gain all of the bounty for myself. I had hoped that one of those fools would kill you or at least hobble you, but they were always poor fighters. Clumsy and inept. Where is the girl?"

  "Somewhere where you will never find her,” Nigel replied, pleased that the man had not yet seen her and praying that Gisele would have the sense to run and hide. He knew she was near, that she had been the one who had warned him.

  "I do not think it will be too hard to find the murdering whore. I heard her warn you, so she must be close at hand."

  Nigel slashed at the man with his sword, hoping to make the man retreat a little and allow him a chance to move into a better fighting position. This DeVeau hound proved much smarter than the others, however, simply avoiding the strike and keeping Nigel firmly trapped on an uneven ground with a dead body in his way. He was cornered, and he knew it. So did his enemy.

  Swiftly reviewing all of the actions he could take, Nigel decided he really had only one, to abruptly attack. It might at least give him the advantage of surprise long enough for him to move out of the trap he was in. If he stayed where he was they would just thrust and parry until he finally lost his footing and was vulnerable to a death stroke. Yelling his clan's battle cry he lunged at his foe, hoping to move the man out of the way by the sheer force of his charge.

  It failed. Nigel cursed as the man met his charge squarely, holding him in place. For a moment they fought fiercely, the DeVeau man trying to keep him right where he was and Nigel trying to cut him out of his way. Then what Nigel had feared all along finally happened. Nigel stumbled as a hard lunge by the DeVeau man caused him to back up against the body of the man he had killed earlier. His foe took quick advantage, and Nigel swore in pain as the man's sword cut a deep gash in his side. He blocked the man's next strike, but that sharp move caused him to fall, his sword spinning out of his hand. He sprawled on top of the dead body and stared up at the DeVeau man, who grinned widely as he held the point of his sword against Nigel's heart. Nigel's only clear thought was a prayer that Gisele did not pay too dearly for his failure to protect her.

  "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."