Highland Honor [Murray Brothers Book 2]

by Hannah Howell

  "Aye, sometimes, especially when someone is trying to kill you. One doesnae always have to kill. At times, a wee poke or a small drawing of blood is more than enough to turn aside the threat. And ye cannae be certain what ye might be able to do when ye are truly faced with the choice of kill or die. No one can be."

  She said nothing as they stripped down to their shirts and braies and crawled beneath their blankets. Nigel tugged her into his arms, and she snuggled into his warmth, then frantically tried to smother a large yawn. He chuckled softly, and gently kissed the top of her head. She had not been his lover for very long, but she recognized that tender gesture as his way of saying that it was acceptable if they just went to sleep. Their journey was rapidly coming to an end, and although Gisele hated to lose any chance to savor the passion they could share since she could not be sure how much longer they would be together, she decided that she would get some much needed rest, instead.

  As she allowed sleep to slowly tighten its grip on her, she considered the right and wrong of her decision to learn how to fight. There were more people than she cared to count hunting her down all across France. If she were not killed by one of the men after her bounty, then she would be killed when she was handed over to the nearest DeVeau. It seemed foolish to hesitate to kill any one of them. All of her reasons for wanting to learn how to use a sword were still sound. She just needed to gain the spine to learn the skill and use it well. Tomorrow, she decided firmly, she would begin all over again.

  "Are ye sure, lass?” Nigel asked as he drew his sword and faced her.

  He fought the urge to smile as he looked at her. She stood facing him squarely, the heavy sword held firmly in her small hands with admirable skill. Her pretty face was set in stubborn, serious lines, but that look of strength was softened by the way she lightly bit her full bottom lip. Nigel knew she would be angered and probably heartily insulted if he told her she was adorable. She certainly did not look like much of a threat, and if she could gain a reasonable skill with the weapon that could prove to be a very desirable advantage.

  "I am sure,” she replied as she began to stalk him.

  "Ye werenae verra sure last eve,” he reminded her as they cautiously circled each other, preparing for their mock battle.

  "I but had a moment of weakness. Some clear thinking has cured me of that."

  "So, ‘tis now kill or be killed?"

  "That is the corner the DeVeaux push me into."

  "I was hoping that ye would recognize that hard truth. ‘Tis most admirable for a wee lass to possess the quality of mercy, but when she is facing men who want her dead mercy becomes a weakness they will certainly take swift advantage of."

  "I know, so I have stiffened my spine and hardened my heart."

  "Wise lass. Just remember that ye arenae fighting them now,” he added with a smile, and then he struck.

  Gisele easily blocked the swing of his sword, and he nodded in approval. For a while he restrained himself, not using his full strength as they fought. He was a little surprised at how rapidly her skill with the weapon had improved. Nigel realized that Gisele had not only decided to keep at her lessons, but had come to understand that fighting was merely another means to insure her continued survival, that a sword could indeed be used to kill but it could also be used to stay alive. Gisele would probably never have the strength to be a truly lethal fighter, certainly not in a battle that required excessive endurance, but she had gained the spirit and determination to be a good one.

  Slowly he increased the force of his attack. Each time he blocked her sword he told her how he had done it, and how she could possibly evade that. She was already growing tired, and he knew that she needed to learn more subtleties in her fighting style. It would be skill, a keen eye, and cleverness that won the battle for Gisele. She had more strength than many women, but she could never endure a long, hard battle with a fully grown man, not without a few clever tricks up her sleeve.

  She cursed when he knocked the sword from her hand. “Mayhap I am wrong, and there truly are just some things that a woman cannot do."

  "Nay, lass, ye are doing verra weel, better than I had thought ye would."

  "Oh. Good. I do hate to be wrong.” She smiled when he laughed, then accepted her sword back and sheathed it. “It is kind of you to flatter me, but I still lose my sword each time we play this game."

  "Ye lose it because ye grow weary. Ye need to gain some strength in your sword arm. Ye also need to learn more guile, more subtleties. I think it is wit and speed that will win the battle for you."

  "So I must be careful to chose only stupid and slow men to fight with,” she drawled.

  "It wouldnae hurt."

  Gisele shook her head, unable to fully repress a smile when he laughed. It stung a little to be told that she was not strong enough to hold her own against a man, but she knew it was true. She was tiny even in comparison to other women. If she ever had to face a man sword to sword, she suspected the battle would be delayed while he had himself a hearty laugh. There was certainly very little chance that she could win a battle on strength alone. She trailed after Nigel as he moved to build a fire, wondering exactly what he meant by wit and speed. Were there some tricks to it all that he had yet to show her?

  "Wit and speed can win a battle?” she asked as she took the food from their saddlepacks.

  "Of course. Not every knight is a truly skilled fighter, one who battles with grace and thought behind every move he makes. Some knights just hack away at their foe, back him into a corner through sheer brutish strength, and then cut him down."

  She frowned as she spread out their bedding and sat down. “That does not sound very glorious or honorable."

  "Mayhap not, but it can work, and the knight survives the battle.” He handed her some bread and cheese as he sat down beside her. “That knight might weel recognize that he doesnae have verra much skill and ne'er will, so he uses his only true advantages over others, his size, and his strength. Now, ye can ne'er depend upon size and strength, so ye must learn to think carefully, to watch your opponent's every move with keen eyes, and to move with a speed and grace that keep ye out of reach of his sword until ye can find a chance to strike cleanly and quickly. And how ye strike is also important. Ye cannae just keep poking at a mon. Ye must learn how to strike him so that he cannae keep fighting you. That is how ye will survive."

  "What you are telling me is that I must learn how to survive until I can kill my enemy,” she murmured as she accepted the wineskin from him and took a long drink.

  "Aye, lass, cold as it sounds, that is exactly what ye must do. Recognize your weaknesses and find a way to spite them.” He leaned back on his elbows and smiled at her. “I think ye could learn to skip about so swiftly ye could make your enemy fair dizzy from trying to watch you. Ye are already verra good at seeing a blow coming and blocking it. Ye just need to gain the strength in your sword arm so that a blow doesnae knock your sword aside and leave ye helpless."

  She grimaced and rubbed her arm. It was aching from all the swordplay she had indulged in the last few days. Gisele was not sure she could gain much more strength in it without damaging the poor thing, but she was determined to try. She was willing to concede that she could not win a battle on strength alone, that she needed skill and speed, but she refused to believe that she might always remain too weak to fight at all.

  "Then I believe you had best begin to teach me such things,” she said, smiling faintly when he tugged her down into his arms. “I pray I shall ne'er have to put all of these skills to the test, for I have no wish to kill or maim a man, but I do not wish to feel helpless again."

  "Ye dinnae have to fight all who confront you,” he said, as he began to tug off her clothes, starting with her swordbelt. “Ye can still just run and hide.” He began to fear that by teaching her some skill with a sword he was imbuing her with a dangerous bravado.

  "I know that, and it will always be my first choice. Do not fear that I will now decide to challenge all w
ho chase me down. I may feel less helpless as I gain some skill with a sword, but having a weapon in my hands will not steal away my wits."

  Gisele smiled when he began to kiss her throat as he unlaced her shirt. His slightest caress always made her feel so wanton. The soft flatteries he whispered against her skin as he honored her breasts with heated kisses were pleasing, but completely unnecessary. She suspected he could stir her with silence as long as he kept touching her. It struck her as a little odd that hands which had been trained to a sword, hands that could so easily kill a man, could be so gentle and enticing.

  He removed the last of her clothing and crouched over her for a moment, studying her in the soft light of the fire. Gisele found his warm, appreciative gaze exciting and, smiling invitingly, she stretched languorously beneath him. She laughed softly when he hastily returned to her arms. His hungry kiss stifled her amusement but stirred her passion. No longer shocked by the way he made love to her, she readily gave him free access to her body as he kissed and stroked her from head to toe and back again. She even eagerly accepted his intimate kiss, gently arching her body in greedy welcome, threading her fingers in his hair as he took her to passion's heights with just a kiss.

  She barely had time to catch her breath when he began to restir her passion. Cold air swept over her heated skin when he sat up to strip off his clothes, and she shivered. Just as he tossed aside the last piece of his clothing she sat up and began to give him the same pleasure he had given her. Now that she knew what he liked, she felt no shyness or hesitation. She savored the way he groaned out his appreciation as she loved him with her mouth.

  A soft laugh escaped her when Nigel abruptly stopped her play. It changed to a sigh of delight when he slowly joined her body with his, while still seated on their bedding easing her down until she straddled him. With only the slightest prompting from him, she began to move, struggling to control her soaring passion so that they could linger in that exquisite moment of intense desire that came just before release. Then he leaned her back over his arm and slowly drew the hardened tip of her breast deep into his mouth. A heartbeat later Gisele lost all control. She was vaguely aware that Nigel also became somewhat frenzied as they drove themselves blindly toward release.

  "If we get any better at this, lass,” Nigel said as they finally collapsed onto their bedding, “I am nay sure we will survive."

  "We do become quite wild,” she agreed, sleepily tugging the blanket over their rapidly chilling bodies.

  Nigel smiled against her skin as he kissed her shoulder. He sprawled on his stomach, draped his arm around her slim waist, and tugged her close against his side. He felt totally spent and he loved it, yet he knew he would only need a little encouragement to want her again.

  "Aye, wild is a good word for it.” He glanced around their campsite. “I sometimes think that the king's whole army could creep up on us and we wouldnae hear them."

  "Are you about to tell me that we must begin to behave ourselves for the sake of our own safety?” She grinned as she glanced at him, not surprised to see him grimace at the thought. She might not know how deeply she had touched his heart, if at all, but she had no doubt at all that he thoroughly enjoyed the passion they shared.

  "That might be wise,” he murmured. “Aye, especially since your screams of delight can probably be heard in Italy."

  She blithely ignored his laughter-filled glance and replied calmly, “Non, for they are undoubtedly lost in the uproar you make.” Giggling, she slapped his hand away when he started to tickle her in gentle retribution.

  "Rest, lass,” he said quietly when they calmed down, and he kissed her on the cheek. “As my strength increases, I feel a need to try to recoup some of the time and distance we lost whilst I was fevered."

  "Which means that you intend to ride from dawn to dusk again."

  "Aye, I fear so."

  "As you wish. To where?"

  "Pardon?"

  "Where are we riding to?"

  "I told you—to a port, so that we might sail to Scotland."

  Gisele muttered a curse under her breath. “I know that. But to which port? France has more than one, I believe."

  "Actually, I am nay verra sure of which one. I head now to Cherbourg. ‘Tis the port I sailed into seven years ago. There are many towns and villages near there where we might find someone to take us to Scotland, if there is no one to do so at Cherbourg."

  "Or if my enemies are there in too great a number.” She frowned, trying desperately to recall exactly where Cherbourg was and where it sat in comparison to the nearest DeVeau holdings. It was impossible, however, especially since she did not really know where she was at the moment.

  "Do ye think there will be a great many of them? Do they hold any lands near Cherbourg?"

  "I do not know. I was just thinking that I am not even sure where I am now, let alone where Cherbourg is. What suddenly troubled me was that the name sounded like one I heard often whilst in my husband's keep. Non, I think I am wrong. Now I think it may have been Caen."

  Nigel cursed. “We have but recently slipped past Caen. ‘Tis a miracle that we didnae just ride into our enemies’ hands. And, aye, this certainly means that Cherbourg will be awash in the bastards and the leeches who feed upon them."

  "What a pleasing thought that is,” she muttered, then sighed. “I am sorry. I have become so lost since we left Guy that I truly do not know where I am from day to day, or where we ride to. In truth, I was never very clever about such things. And, until now, I never felt there was much to gain from knowing where a DeVeau might be roosting."

  "Nay, lass, dinnae apologize for what isnae your fault. I complained so sharply because I saw yet another complication and we have enough to deal with.” He gave her a brief, tender kiss. “Go to sleep, dearling. We shall ride on to Cherbourg in the morning. We are close, but ‘twill take a day or two more of steady riding."

  "Only a day or two?"

  "If we meet with no trouble, aye,” he said quietly, then yawned.

  She nodded and idly smoothed her hand over his arm. Nigel's body slowly grew heavy, his breathing measured and soft. Gisele knew she ought to be joining him in a much needed sleep, getting the rest she required for what lay ahead, but she felt no urge to do so. Instead, she stared up at the stars feeling increasingly uneasy, almost afraid.

  At first she thought she grew afraid because she now knew that they were riding close to DeVeau lands. In a day or two they would be at the port where there would surely be DeVeau men searching for her and Nigel. Yet, as she continued to think about the dangers they would soon be facing, she realized that was not the cause of her growing fear. It worried her, but it was not what was slowly tying knots in her belly or causing her to break out in a cold sweat.

  Nigel shifted against her side and moved his hand until it rested on her breast. She looked down at him, started to smile, and then froze. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the conviction that suddenly flooded her mind. It was Nigel who stirred her agitation. More exactly, it was what she now knew she felt for the man.

  Gisele knew, immediately and with no doubt at all, that she loved the man sleeping in her arms. It was a poor time for such a revelation, but she could not ignore the truth. Despite all of her efforts to just savor the passion they could share and keep her heart safely locked away, during the time she and Nigel had been together, she had somehow lost control of her emotions. There had been numerous hints, strong clues to what she was feeling, including occasional foolish thoughts of the future, but she had chosen to ignore them. She had even thought that she could just set them aside, like simple chores, to be seen to when it was convenient. She could no longer play that game.

  It was a complete disaster, she thought as she began to edge out of his hold. Nigel loved some woman in Scotland. She had blindly given her heart to a man who had nothing more than passion to give in return. She had told him herself that she asked for no more than that, and he had shown no sign that he wanted any change
in the rules they had agreed to. There was also the fact that she had already tasted marriage and found it a very bitter potion. Although she knew that Nigel was nothing like her husband, she did not think she wanted to be bound to any man by law and God again.

  Suddenly all of her brief dreams about winning Nigel's heart seemed no more than the mad fancies of an enamored child. She had been a fool, reaching for something that was already firmly held by another. Gisele felt intensely vulnerable and helpless, and she could not abide it for a moment longer. Neither could she bear to face Nigel again, terrified that her newly recognized emotions would be easy to read upon her face or in her eyes. It would now be impossible to be at ease with the man. She would spend every waking moment fearing that she had given herself away by word or deed.

  The only clear thought Gisele had was that she needed to distance herself from Nigel. She was not so foolish as to think that distance would take his image from her heart and mind or cure her of needing him, but it would keep her from making an utter fool of herself. The thought of following him to Scotland, of being trapped in a strange land with a man she loved but who could not love her, was an appalling one.

  Gisele yanked her clothes on and moved to saddle her horse, keeping a very close eye on Nigel all the while she prepared to leave. A part of her told her that it was pure madness to leave, especially in the middle of the night, but another part told her it would be madness to stay. Now it was all too easy to remember the way he had spoken of the woman he loved while caught in the grip of a fever, and, worse, the way he had spoken of coveting the bounty on her head. It appeared that she had but two choice—to suffer the heartbreak of loving a man who could not or would not ever love her, or to love a man who would betray her, take her to the DeVeaux, and sell her. Both promised a depth of heartbreak that would make all her past ones look weak and sickly in comparison. Gisele decided that she had had more than enough heartbreak and betrayal in her life. Leaving Nigel would also break her heart, but at least she would be able to suffer out of his sight.