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.
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