Highland Honor. Hannah Howell

      “You confuse me.”

      “I confuse myself. I have no reason to mistrust Sir Nigel, none at all, yet I am afraid. From the moment I fled my husband’s lands I have, more or less, fended for myself. Even here, even seeking your protection, I still felt as if I led the way, as if I had some control over the path I walked. The moment I agreed with you and accepted Sir Murray’s protection, I suddenly felt as if I had given that control away.”

      Guy frowned and patted her hand in a weak attempt to soothe her. “I think you grow fanciful. I truly believe he is a good man.”

      “I think that deep in my battered heart I feel the same, yet even that does not ease my fear.”

      “Then perhaps we…”

      “Non, there can be no we now. You must heal, and I must run again. The two are not compatible. I should set aside my worries, ones that seem born of no more than my own timid heart, and thank God that there is someone willing to help me.” She grimaced. “That is what I will set my mind to doing, and mayhap this feeling that I have just stepped off a very high cliff will pass.”

      Three

      Gisele slowly paced her cousin Maigrat’s kitchen. They had made good time in their journey to her small demanse, but Guy had suffered. He had been pale and bathed in sweat by the time they had reached Maigrat’s gates. His dire appearance had been all that had gotten them within the walls, Gisele was sure of it, and she found that a painful truth to face. There was no ignoring how they had been swiftly brought around to the rear, tersely ordered to hide their faces as they went, and left to stand in the kitchens only after Maigrat had cleared them of servants. Nor could she ignore the lack of any offer of refreshment. Maigrat had always prided herself on her courtesy. Gisele suspected that her cousin hoped they would be gone by the time she had put Guy abed, but Gisele stubbornly stayed where she was. She would not leave until she was sure Guy would be cared for.

      She glanced at Nigel, who was sprawled in a chair at the well-scrubbed table, idly tapping his long fingers on the smooth surface. She felt ashamed for her cousin Maigrat. Although she knew nothing of the customs of Scotland she felt sure that he could see how poorly they were being treated. At least now he would believe her when she told him that they could not count on much help from her family. Gisele just prayed that he would believe everything else she said. She was not looking forward to telling him the whole sordid story, but that time was drawing near.

      “I believe she will care for Guy,” Nigel said, watching Gisele closely and feeling sorry for the pain her family was so obviously causing her.

      “I believe she will, too,” Gisele replied softly.

      “But nay you.”

      “Non, she will have none of me.” Gisele smiled crookedly, wishing she could hide her pain but knowing his sharp gaze had already seen it. “I think Maigrat hopes I will slip away ere she returns, but she will be forced to look upon me one more time. I must hear her swear that she will care for Guy.”

      “Agreed. If ye can do so without choking on your pride, ye may also ask her for a few supplies.”

      “Must I?”

      “Does she have any reason to refuse ye even that meager aid?”

      “None.”

      “Then ask, and shame her into giving it. We need all we can gather, for there may not be many opportunities to gather supplies, either by our own hands or with coin.”

      “Do you think we will be that hard pressed?”

      He shrugged. “I cannae say, but ’tis wise to be prepared for a hard ride.”

      She nodded and then tensed as Maigrat strode into the kitchen. The tight-lipped look on the older woman’s round face conveyed her displeasure at finding Gisele still there better than any words could. Gisele did not want to ask the woman for anything, but forced herself to do as Nigel asked, and swallowed her pride.

      “You will care for Guy and keep him safe?” she asked. “Do you swear to that, Maigrat?”

      “Of course,” Maigrat snapped. “We fostered the boy for many years. He is as a son to me. You should never have pulled him into your troubles.”

      “He is out of them now.”

      “As is poor young Charles.” Maigrat nodded when Gisele paled. “You have developed a true skill at leaving dead men in your wake. And now you sink even deeper into shame. Look at you. No woman with honor in her soul would dress herself in such a scandalous manner.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, Gisele saw Nigel rise to his feet, his handsome face taut with anger, and she quickly signaled him to remain silent. He could not protect her from everything, and should not be asked to. This was a family matter, and painful as it was it was not worth entangling him in it.

      “Perhaps, cousin, I have decided that life is of more value to me than honor,” she said quietly. “I need a few supplies, and then I will leave you.”

      “I have put myself at risk taking Guy in and allowing you to even step upon my lands, and yet you ask more of me?”

      “I do. What matter if you give me a few scraps of food and a little wine? If the DeVeaux discover I was here they will think you did as much, anyway.”

      Gisele stood silently as a softly cursing Maigrat stuffed a flour sack full of food, thrust it at her, and then gave Nigel two full wineskins. She had to fight back the urge to toss everything at the woman and walk out. What she had told Maigrat was true. She did think life was more important than honor. Certainly it had to be more important than pride.

      “Is this a new fool you have ensnared to help you flee justice?” Maigrat asked.

      “Let it lie, Nigel,” Gisele murmured when he took a step toward Maigrat. “It is not worth your trouble.” She looked at her cousin. “Some people actually pause to listen to my tale, and do not judge me solely on what the DeVeaux said. It is most sad that few of those can be found within my own family. Tell Guy I will let him know when I am safely away,” she added as she walked out of the kitchen.

      Gisele said nothing as she and Nigel returned to their horses, sheltered their faces with the hoods of their cloaks, and rode away from her cousin’s demanse. She was too choked with hurt and her own stung pride to say a word. It was almost dark by the time she pulled herself free of that emotional quagmire to look around. A moment later, Nigel signaled her to halt.

      “We will camp here for the night,” he said, as he dismounted. “’Tis sheltered enough to hide us but not so enclosed that it could become a trap, and there is water near at hand.”

      She nodded and dismounted. Silence reigned as they tended to their horses and built a fire. It was not until they had filled their bellies with Maigrat’s bread and cheese that Gisele sensed Nigel had had enough of silence. She looked up from the fire she had been staring into to catch him moving closer to her. He smiled faintly and held out the wineskin.

      “I think ’tis time ye told me the truth,” he said quietly as she drank.

      “Which truth? Mine, or the one so many others choose to believe?” She grimaced and took another drink of wine as she heard the bitterness in her voice.

      “Just tell me what ye see as the truth. I believe I have the wit to judge for myself.”

      “I wed Lord DeVeau nearly a year and a half ago. Oh, I protested the marriage in every way I could, but none would heed me or help me. He was of good family, a powerful family with a heavy purse. Such an honored knight could not be as evil as the rumors said he was.”

      “But ye believed the rumors.”

      “There were too many rumors, too many stories of his evil, for them all to be lies.”

      “So, ye were forced to the altar.”

      She had barely begun her tale and yet he could already