Highland Honor [Murray Brothers Book 2]

by Hannah Howell

  "There could be.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a brief kiss. “We are trapped, lass. Aye, we may be able to slip away from here unseen, but each port we go to will be the same. We are here. A ship is soon to sail for Scotland. I may have found someone who will help us get to that ship. Can we really give into fear and mistrust and flee from what might be our only chance to escape this land?"

  Gisele cursed, and briefly paced the ground in front of him. “Non, we cannot. Is there any way we can protect ourselves just in case he is about to return with some greedy friends?"

  "We can run.” He tried to soothe her glare with a quick grin, then grew serious. “Nay, there is no way to protect ourselves and trust him at the same time."

  She stared at him for one long minute before slumping against the wall again and softly cursing to herself in French. It would be wonderful to believe they had found someone to help them, but they could not trust anyone. Nigel was also right to say that they really did not have many choices left to them. There was a ship there ready to sail to Scotland. There was a man who said he would get them on it. All they had to do was wait and pray to God that he was not trying to get them to stay in one place until he could bring enough men to capture them. Gisele did not like the odds.

  When Nigel leaned against the wall at her side, she sent him a crooked smile. He shared her concerns. She could read that in his amber eyes. There was no gain to be had in badgering him with them. She reached out and took his hand in hers. In truth, she was more afraid for him, but she did not want to tell him that, either. If they were about to be betrayed, they would die together. If they were taken to Vachel that death would be most unpleasant, especially for Nigel, who had struck the man. She wished she could think of some way that Nigel could better protect himself while they gambled on Duncan MacGregor, but nothing came to mind. In her heart, she knew that Nigel would not take it even if she did think of a way.

  "I keep having to face the fact that I and all of my troubles could get you killed,” she murmured.

  "Nay, the DeVeaux in all their madness could get me killed,” he said, gently squeezing her hand in a gesture of comfort. “Ye must cease blaming yourself for all of our difficulties. Ye are not at fault in all of this."

  "That may be true, but simply saying so does not make me feel any less at fault."

  "That is because ye are a stubborn lass who willnae heed the truth, not if it means ye must change your mind."

  "I am stubborn? This condemnation from the king of all stubbornness leaves me humbled."

  "Such a sharp tongue."

  "If the two of ye are done with your wooing, we can go now,” drawled a deep voice from right beside Nigel.

  Right beside the fear that gripped Gisele at Duncan's sudden appearance was absolute astonishment, even a hint of glee, that someone had finally snuck up on Nigel the same way he was always sneaking up on her. Nigel had already spun around, his hand on his sword, before he had realized it was Duncan. Although he did not draw his sword, and Duncan and the thin man with him showed no sign of drawing theirs, he remained tense. Gisele realized that Nigel did not really believe all he had told her in an effort to calm her. He did not completely trust Duncan, and did not like the situation they were in any better than she did.

  "Ye should be wary about creeping up on people,” Nigel said quietly.

  "Old habit,” Duncan replied, then he nodded toward the too thin man at his side. “This shadow of a mon is Colin, my cousin. I thought I might need a hand getting the two of ye through the crowd of carrion gleaning the area for you."

  "I thought a lot of them looked like DeVeau men."

  "Near half, if I guess right. Can the lass make herself look more like a lass?"

  "Aye,” Nigel answered cautiously. “Ye need her to do so?"

  "Well, if we can make ourselves look like a few drunken men and a whore as we weave through the crowd, we may get to the ship without having to hack our way through Frenchmen."

  "It might work.” Nigel's appreciation of the plan was clear in his voice, but then he looked at Gisele and frowned. There is no place for her to safely change into the gown and cloak we have in our saddlepacks."

  "There is no one at the back of these buildings. Everyone is in the streets where the market is. I didnae want anyone to see me steal three horses any more than ye want someone seeing ye and the lass."

  "You will be there,” Gisele said quietly, knowing his idea was a good one but uneasy about changing her clothes with two strange men near at hand.

  "Well, now, lassie, it seems to me that ye have to make a choice. Do ye fret o'er your modesty or your life?"

  Gisele stared at Duncan for a moment and then at his silent cousin, a little annoyed at the amusement in their eyes. She then looked at Nigel, who was frowning at her in apparent indecision. He obviously did not like the idea of her changing clothes in front of the men any more than she did, but clearly saw the merit of Duncan's plan.

  "Well, if one of you can hold up a blanket, I believe I am small enough to shelter behind it."

  Duncan guffawed, then quickly swallowed his laughter when she glared at him. Without another word, they all moved to the rear of the buildings where Nigel had tethered the horses. She reached for the pack that held the gown Vachel had given her but Nigel stayed her hand. Gisele frowned in confusion as he pulled a gown from his saddlepack, pausing to put away something wrapped inside of it. It was not until he handed it to her that she recognized it as the gown she and Guy had tried to bury by the river.

  "What are you doing with this?"

  "I didnae see any reason for ye to throw away a perfectly good gown,” he replied.

  She shook it out, a little surprised that it was in such good condition after being stuffed in his saddlepack for so long. “It is somewhat wrinkled,” she murmured.

  "It is better than marching through a town filled with DeVeau men wearing a gown their lord gave you. I wouldnae doubt that he gave his men a verra good description of it."

  "Aye, and it looks fine enough for a whore to be wearing,” said Duncan. The man shrugged when both Nigel and Gisele glared at him. “In truth, it looks a wee bit too fine,” he muttered.

  "If that was an attempt to take back any insult you might have inflicted, it was a poor one,” Gisele said.

  "Do ye ken, I thought it a wee bit odd when they added that ye had a sharp tongue in the description of ye. Doesnae matter to how ye look. I begin to see why they did, though."

  "They said I had a sharp tongue?"

  "Aye. Ye are being described as a wee lass, black curls, thin, and with a sharp tongue. Oh, aye, and dressed in ill-fitting lad's clothes.” He glanced at Nigel, ignoring Gisele's gasp of outrage. “Ye are described as a fine, braw Scot with red hair. ‘Tisnae that red."

  "It only has some red in it,” muttered Gisele. “It is more of a golden brown."

  "This is all most interesting,” Nigel snapped as he held up the blanket. “But, I think we had best get out of here, dinnae ye?"

  Standing between the blanket and the horse, Gisele struggled out of her clothes and then hurriedly donned the gown. The way Nigel was intensely watching the other two men to be sure they did not peek at her insured her almost complete privacy. Once she had dressed, Nigel did not give her much time to think. He threw her cloak over her shoulders and took her by the arm. Duncan stopped him from walking toward the ship that way, however. Gisele briefly feared that now they would suffer the man's betrayal, then felt deeply guilty when Duncan revealed that he was simply thinking of the best way to protect them on their dangerous walk to the ship.

  "She must needs go along on my arm, or Colin's, if ye prefer,” Duncan said.

  "And why is that?” demanded Nigel.

  "Because it be the two of ye together that they are all sniffing the ground for. ‘Tis wise to separate the two of ye until we can get to the ship."

  "It makes sense,” Nigel replied cautiously, then nudged Gisele toward Colin. “Your cousin is the b
etter choice, for he has dark hair. A woman and a red-haired Scot would still raise an eyebrow or two, and we dinnae want those dogs to come anywhere near us."

  "What about the horses?” Gisele asked, as Colin took her by the arm and they started out of the alley.

  "I will send two other men back here to get them,” answered Duncan. “Two more faces they arenae looking for. They will just think the men lead their own mounts back home.” He glanced back at Colin and Gisele. “Try to recall that ye are soaked in wine, drunk, and amorous, and pull the lass's hood up to shield her face."

  Colin did as his cousin ordered. Gisele tried to relax when the man draped one thin arm around her shoulders and held her close. Nigel glared at them once before Duncan put an arm around his shoulders, leaning against him as if he were unsteady on his feet, and led them out into the street.

  As they entered the crowded streets Gisele tensed, terrified of discovery and eager to run. Colin tightened his hold on her, and she was a little surprised by the strength in that thin arm. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and began to speak in a language she did not understand. She glanced up at him, forcing herself to grin, and caught his dark eyes fixed firmly upon her face.

  "English? French?” she asked in whisper.

  "Nay. Gaelic. Smile. Ye are a happy whore who is about to make some coin."

  Although she was not sure how that would make a woman act, Gisele began to pretend that she was more drunk than sober and eager to please the man who stumbled down the street with her. She risked the occasional and very brief glance at Nigel and Duncan, who were acting very drunk indeed, even bursting into raucous song once or twice. The way Duncan tended to bump into people may have been the correct way for a drunk man to behave, but it made her so nervous she had to stop looking at him.

  Only once did someone try to stop them. Duncan callously and slyly knocked Nigel face down on the ground when he held his arms wide to greet the curious Frenchman, playing as if his unsteady support was all that had kept Nigel on his feet. Colin held her even closer and played at nuzzling her neck. She could feel his long lashes move against her skin, and knew he was watching the whole confrontation closely. When the Frenchman cursed Duncan as a fool and marched away, Duncan helped Nigel to his feet.

  All they had to deal with for the rest of the walk to the ship were a few curses and crude jests. Once on board, Gisele pulled away from Colin. Duncan released Nigel and called to two men to go and get their horses. As the men brushed by her on their way off the boat, she wrapped her arms around herself as she began to tremble slightly. When Nigel suddenly put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped.

  "Are ye all right, loving?” he asked softly.

  She nodded. “I will sit over there for a moment until I can still the fear that long walk stirred in me."

  "I was nay discourteous to her,” Colin said, “or, I tried not to be. But she was to appear to be a whore."

  Seeing that Gisele had sat down on a thick coil of heavy rope and wrapped herself in her cape, Nigel looked back at an uneasy Colin. “That isnae your doing. She wasnae treated well by her husband or his cousin. She shies from a strange mon's touch, is all. This may also be because we were so closed in by those who wish to give her back to those bastards. If the DeVeaux get ahold of her, she is a dead woman."

  "Aye,” murmured Duncan as he began to closely watch one young man. “And so are you dead. The men searching that wee village werenae just after the lass. A certain Lord Vachel has been screaming for your head on a pike."

  Before Nigel could say anything Duncan cursed, pulled out his dagger, and threw it. A soft squeal from behind him made Nigel turn around to see where Duncan's knife had landed. A pockmarked youth was pinned neatly to the railing by Duncan's knife. It looked to Nigel as if the blade had come very close to the youth's flesh. He followed Duncan as the man walked over to the youth.

  "And where did ye think ye were going, laddie?” Duncan asked the pale, trembling youth as he retrieved his dagger.

  "To help Ian and Thomas with the horses?” the young man replied in a quavering voice.

  "Nay, I think not. We agreed that we willnae sell one of our own to the French, didnae we? But mayhap ye thought that just meant that ye could gain all of the bounty for yourself."

  "Nay!"

  "Ye are a poor liar, William. Robert,” Duncan called to another one of the Scots on board. “Take this greedy child below deck and make sure he doesnae leave your sight until we are far out to sea. Then I will decide if I want to toss him over the side or nay."

  "Many men have been tempted by that bounty,” Nigel said.

  "Aye, I ken it. Including me. Dinnae fret, I willnae hurt the boy. But ‘twill do him good to sweat with fear for a while."

  Nigel smiled his understanding and moved to Gisele's side. He sat down and took her hand in his. “Have ye calmed yourself, sweeting?"

  She nodded slowly. “Do you think we will actually slip out of this village safely?"

  "Aye, I begin to.” He watched the men working around the ship for a moment. “We will be setting sail verra soon. Then we can have about three days of rest, nay looking o'er our shoulders every minute.” Gisele thought that sounded lovely and waited eagerly for that brief taste of freedom from pursuit.

  Her delight faded very quickly when the ship finally got under sail. They could still see the coast of France behind them when Gisele discovered that she would never be a sailor.

  Shaking after violently emptying her stomach over the rail of the ship, Gisele accepted the dampened cloth Nigel held out to her and washed her face. She clutched it tightly in her hand as, with a shudder, she felt the urge to hang her head over the rail again. She had heard of mal de mer, and knew that was what ailed her. She just wished she had an idea of how long it might last.

  "Pity, lass. Ye are no sailor, are ye?” Nigel patted her on the back. “Weel, not to worry yourself. It will pass once ye have your feet back on steady ground."

  Gisele clung to the rail and decided that she must love Nigel very much, for she was not even trying to push him into the sea.

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  Twenty-one

  Gisele groaned and sat down on a large, damp rock. She knew she was probably ruining her dress, but she did not care. It was undoubtedly in a sad state, anyway, after all it had been through with her in the last few days. Her legs were as unsteady as her stomach, and she did not have the strength to search for a cleaner place to sit down. She thought that they had sailed for three days, but she could not be sure, for she had spent most of that time sicker than she had ever been in her whole life. Not long after they had left France the whole journey had become little more than a wretched nightmare to her. Since the only way to return to France was by ship, she decided that Scotland would make a very good new home.

  Lass, ye will get filthy and wet if ye continue to sit there,” Nigel said.

  She looked up at Nigel and his two new friends, Duncan and the taciturn Colin. As far as she was concerned, none of them had shown the appropriate amount of concern for her. They had just kept telling her that she would feel better soon, that the journey was not that long, and other such banalities. She also felt that it was nearly beyond forgiving that they had not immediately produced some miraculous cure for her misery. If she had not been so sick she would have made them all very sorry, indeed.

  "I need to be still for a little while,” she said even as she accepted Nigel's help in standing up.

  "Ye will get your land legs back soon, lass,” Duncan said.

  "How nice. And when do I get my stomach back? As far as I can see it will have been washed up with the tide, for I believe I lost it but a few hours sail from France.” Gisele glared at Duncan and Colin when the two men laughed. She glanced up at Nigel and noticed that he had the good sense to just be quietly amused.

  While Nigel thanked the men for their help and gave Duncan the grey mare he had coveted, Gisele tried to just stand in one place without swa
ying. She looked at the saddled horses and inwardly groaned. She knew it was wise to leave the port as swiftly as possible. If the DeVeaux were after them, or already had allies in Scotland, this would be the first place they would search. Gisele just prayed that Nigel would not make her ride very far. She had not been joking when she had said she needed to be still for a while. It was not simply a wish to be on solid, unmoving ground, either. After being ill for several long days she was thoroughly exhausted.

  Honest gratitude and well taught courtesy gave her the strength to move, however, when Duncan and his cousin started to leave. She walked over to the men, murmured her heartfelt thanks, and hugged each man in turn, smiling to herself when they blushed vividly as she kissed their cheeks. On the ship she had had little time or inclination to come to know them very well, but they had tried, however ineptly, to help her. Nigel liked them, and she accepted that as sound accolade of their worth. They had also gotten her and Nigel safely through a harbor town full of DeVeaux and out of France. They deserved far more than a kiss and a horse, but both men seemed heartily pleased with what they had.

  The moment the two MacGregors left, Nigel lifted Gisele up into her saddle. “We willnae ride for long, dearling."

  "There is no need to be so apologetic,” she said, as she watched him gracefully swing his long body into the saddle. “I understand that it is not wise to linger here. If the DeVeaux guessed we would go to a port in France, then they have guessed that we would sail here."

  "And they might be watching these ports even now,” he said as he led them through the crowded streets and out of town. “Here and in other towns such as this a few Frenchmen wandering about wouldnae be noticed much.” He glanced back at her and frowned at how pale she was. “If ye cannae abide it any longer, let me ken it, and I will find us a place to make camp."

  "Now that I am off that ship, I believe I will begin to recover."

  Nigel kept their pace slow, and she was grateful for that consideration. The fresh air, cool and damp though it was, and the steady gait of her horse began to revive her. The movement of the horse was one she was accustomed to, unlike the roll of the ship's deck. Gisele was astounded that anyone would willingly step on board one of those conveyances from hell, let alone choose to make a living off them, sailing off on the cursed things day after day. If it were not for Lent and many another rule of the church that dictated what she ate and when, Gisele doubted that she would even want to dine upon fish again.