Highland Honor. Hannah Howell

Highland Honor - Hannah  Howell


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have gone.

      Sir Nigel was right. Soon the DeVeaux would know where she was and, worse, that Guy had helped her. She could no longer stay where she was, but she could not leave Guy behind, either. He needed her help, and now he also needed to hide from the revenge the DeVeau family was so avidly seeking. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at the man who had thrust himself into the midst of her troubles as if he had some right to be there.

      “And what do you think I should do?” she asked.

      Nigel leaned forward and looked directly into her eyes. “Run.”

      “I cannot leave Guy behind at the mercy of his wounds and my enemies.”

      “I ken it. Ye must get him to a safe place first. There must be someone who will shelter him even if they willnae shelter ye as weel.”

      “Our cousin Maigrat. She lives but a short day’s ride from here.”

      “Then we shall take him there.”

      “We?”

      “Aye—we. I am offering ye my protection, wee Gisele.”

      “Why?” She frowned when he laughed and shrugged his broad shoulders.

      “I dinnae have a good answer for that,” he replied. “I can offer ye the protection ye need and mayhap a safe haven, as weel. Ere I stumbled upon your troubles, I had thoughts of returning home. Ye can come with me.”

      “To Scotland?” she whispered, shocked at his suggestion yet seeing that it could be a very good plan.

      “To Scotland, to my home. Even if the DeVeaux discover ye are with me and where ye have gone, ye will still be safer than ye are now and in this land. In Scotland the DeVeaux will be the strangers, unable to hide.”

      Gisele wanted to accept his offer, but hesitated. She would be placing her life in the hands of a man she did not really know. It was madness, yet she was not sure she had much choice.

      “Ye need to consider my offer,” he said, as he stood up. “I understand. I will tend to young Charles’s body as I promised your cousin, and we can talk when I return.”

      “Any of the French knights can tell you where he must go. I believe his family would prefer to bury him on their own lands.”

      Nigel paused in the opening of the tent to look back at her. “There is one thing I ask of ye for my help, lass, and one thing only.”

      “And what is that?”

      “The truth.”

      She cursed as he left and briefly buried her face in her hands. The truth, he said. That was his price for his much needed aid. Unfortunately, the truth could make him swiftly take back his offer. He might not believe her claim of innocence any more than so many others did.

      And there was still the question of why he offered to risk his life for hers. He had no real answer for her, and many of the reasons she thought of were not kind. If he was just bored, how long would she hold his interest? Might she not soon find herself deserted in the midst of some strange land? He claimed he only wanted the truth in payment for his aid, but they would be alone together for weeks, perhaps months. He could be hoping to extract a higher payment. And what if he worked for the DeVeaux? Perhaps he was just a more subtle trap, one who would lure her to her enemies by making her trust him. That could even be a plan of his own devising, one thought up after he heard of the bounty offered for her. He had not killed her enemies to save her, but to keep all of the bounty for himself.

      Gisele found that she detested even thinking such things about the handsome Scot. They had to be considered, however. He could be just what he seemed, a good, honorable man offering to help her for reasons even he could not articulate. But, just as she had no proof that he was her enemy, she had no proof that he was the friend and ally he claimed to be.

      “I simply do not know what to do,” she said aloud, her voice weighted with despair.

      “You must go with him,” came a weak, unsteady voice from behind her.

      “Guy.” She hurried to his side and helped him take a drink of the wine. “I thought you were asleep.”

      “Non. I suffered but a brief swoon from the pain.”

      “I am sorry. I tried to be gentle.”

      “That was no rebuke of your admirable skill, cousin. You do have a gentle touch, but even your clever hands cannot tend to a wound without causing some pain. That is the nature of a wound.”

      “It is not a mortal wound, bless God. I am so sorry about Charles.”

      “No need to be. You did not kill him.”

      “I led his murderers here.”

      “Cease this chastisement of yourself, cousin. None of this is your fault. If your family had heeded you from the beginning you would not have even married that bastard. You are innocent in all of this. Any knight worthy of his accolades would feel honorbound to help you.”

      “Do you think that is what Sir Nigel Murray is doing?” She dampened a cloth and bathed the sweat from his face.

      “I believe so. I told you, I have never heard any ill of the man. He is a mercenary, sells his sword to French lords, and has done so for many years, but most Scots within our ranks do the same. It is said that he chooses more carefully than most. He is said to have a taste for women and wine, yet I have watched him closely this last week and seen none of that. If that is true, then he knows when to cast such frivolity aside and stand firm to his duty, with a clear head and a steady hand.”

      Gisele sighed, still uncertain yet beginning to see that she had little choice. “So, you believe I should do as he says—take you to Maigrat and go with him?”

      “I do. All he asks is the truth.”

      “That could easily cause him to change his mind.”

      “Perhaps, but I think he will believe you. I am sorry, cousin, but now I think you have no choice but to play that game out. If he is not what he says, if he plays some treacherous trick, I trust that you will have the wit to smell it out before it costs you too dearly.”

      Before Gisele could express her doubt about that, Sir Nigel returned. He looked strong, a good man to have at one’s side, but she simply could not be sure. It angered her that the DeVeaux had pushed her so tightly into a corner that she had no choice but to gamble on the honor of a man she did not know.

      “Charles will be taken to his family,” Nigel announced, watching the cousins closely.

      “Thank you, Sir Murray,” Guy said. “I pray that you are the godsend you appear to be, for now my cousin and I will accept your offer of protection and help.”

      “I had not agreed yet,” Gisele muttered, but then softly cursed as she met Guy’s stern gaze. “But I do now.”

      Nigel bit back a smile. “And do I get the boon I requested? The truth? I feel I deserve that much since ’tis clear that I will be placing my verra life at risk.”

      “Oui, you do deserve that,” Gisele agreed. “And you will have it as soon as we get Guy safely to Maigrat’s.”

      “Gisele—” Guy began to protest.

      “Non, that is how it must be.” She looked at Nigel. “It is an ugly tale I must tell you, Sir Murray. You may yet change your mind about helping me. I must see that Guy is safe before I risk that.”

      “Fair enough. I will collect all of my belongings and tell all who need to ken it that we now leave this army. We will leave here at first light,” he added as he left.

      “I feel certain that this is the right thing to do,” Guy said after a moment of weighted silence. “I wish you would look more confident.”

      “And I dearly wish I could feel more confident,” Gisele said, then sighed and forced a smile for Guy. “All will be well.”


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