Highland Honor. Hannah Howell

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 discipline 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.”

      Gisele hoped that the darkness hid her blushes as she nodded and slipped away. She was finding the lack of privacy hard to endure, although she was not sure why. Privacy had become a rare privilege since she had fled her husband’s lands. She had thought that she had become accustomed to the loss. Somehow, being with Nigel had made her painfully aware of it again.

      When she returned to the fire Nigel slipped away, and Gisele lectured herself yet again on her foolishness. He had no privacy, either, and it had to be difficult for him as well, although she suspected that men were less troubled by such a thing. It was time, she decided, to stop thinking about herself so much and try to consider Nigel a little more. He had freely offered his protection, but she doubted he had fully considered all of the complications that could arise while racing across France with a woman. She swore that she would try to stop thinking of how hard it was for her, and try to make it easier for him.

      The moment Nigel returned he collected their bedding. Gisele quickly took hers from him and laid it out herself. She ignored his smile when he saw that she had made her bed across the fire from him. If he chose to think she was simply enforcing a distance between them, that was fine with her. Soon he would see that she intended to do her share of the work now, not to just sit around and wait to be cared for.

      Nigel banked the fire, yanked off his boots, and unbuckled his sword. He set his weapons close to his rough bed in case they were needed in the night. He sprawled on top of the quilted mat, wrapped the thin blanket around himself, and turned on his side to watch Gisele across the fire. She could not fully hide a wince as she eased her body down onto her bed. Nigel started to reach out to her in sympathy, but quickly restrained himself. There was nothing he could do for her. She would just have to endure until she grew harder.

      “Ye havenae done much long, hard riding, have ye, lass?”

      “Non.” She turned on her side to look at him across