Gisele struggled to swallow her tears. That had been the greatest hurt of all, and she still felt the power of it even after so many months “They would not. They feared the scandal, questioned me, even spoke of holding me for the DeVeaux. I did not wait to see if they would hand me over yet again. I fled, and that has been the way I have lived for nearly a year.”
Although she wished she could compose herself enough to clear the tears from her eyes, Gisele looked up at Nigel. “I swear on all I hold dear, on Guy’s life if you will, that I did not kill the man. I am innocent of the crime, but since so few of my own family believe me it is taking a long time to prove that.”
Nigel stared down into her upturned face, its delicate lines highlighted beautifully by the soft light of the fire. He knew it was possible that he was being influenced by her beauty, by how strongly she affected him, but he could not believe she had killed the man. And, he mused as he gently brushed a tear from her cheek, even if she had it had been justified. He was certain that Gisele had not told him the true depths of the injuries DeVeau had inflicted upon her, and might never do so.
“No mon has the right to treat a woman as he treated you,” Nigel said quietly.
“So, you believe that I am innocent.”
“I believe that DeVeau got exactly what he deserved.”
Gisele stared at him, captivated by the warmth in his dark, amber eyes. It felt dangerously good to be held so close to his warmth. He would help her. Some of her fears eased. When he softly kissed the mark the tear had left upon her cheek, she trembled. She knew she should move away, but could not bring herself to leave the haven of his arms. Then she frowned, wondering if she had been right, if Nigel thought to gain more than the truth as payment for his help.
“I have told you the truth as you asked,” she said.
“Aye, ye have.” He idly traced her small face with kisses, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath his lips but watchful for any sign of fear or rejection.
“And that was the only price you asked for helping me.”
“It was.”
“Then why do I begin to suspect that you seek more of me?”
“Because ye are a clever lass?”
She tensed slightly as he touched his lips to hers. They were soft, warm, and very inviting. Fear stirred within her, but so did curiosity. Since she had first set eyes upon him she had wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, had wondered if she could do so without being afraid. It was not wise, for he clearly sought to seduce her, might even think she was agreeing to share his bed in return for his protection, yet she could not bring herself to immediately and forcefully push him away.
“I need help and a strong sword arm, but I will not play the whore to gain those things.”
“I wasnae asking ye to.”
“You are trying to kiss me.”
“Oh, aye, that I am. I have made no secret of the fact that I think ye are a bonny lass. I but seek a wee taste of the lips I have coveted for a week.”
“And maybe a lot more?”
“Your suspicions are unwarranted, bonny Gisele. Aye, I willnae lie and say I will treat ye as a nun, but ye may rest assured that I will ne’er take what ye dinnae want to give. Weel, except for this one kiss.”
“I am not sure you will be stealing that,” she whispered.
Nigel lightly tightened his grip on her, deeply aroused by her soft words but suspecting that it would be wise to hide that. He brushed his lips over hers, savoring the sweetness of her trembling mouth. It was undoubtedly dishonorable to even think of seducing a woman who had turned to him for protection, especially one who had been as mistreated as Gisele, but Nigel knew he was going to try to do just that. As he slowly deepened the kiss, he swore that he would do nothing to add to her pain. Instead, he would do all in his power to show her that not all men were like her brutal husband.
Gisele clung to Nigel, timidly opening her mouth when he nudged her lips with his tongue. A war waged inside of her. Passion battled for dominance over fear. Each stroke of his tongue, the feel of his strong body pressed close to hers, called to her passion. It felt good. He felt good. Gisele desperately wanted to cling to that, to begin to learn what the minstrels sang about. But her fear continued to grow.
Suddenly, so swiftly that it nearly blinded her, her fear rose up and killed her passion. She went cold, her body stiffening with panic. Just as she grasped the sense to pull away, Nigel ended the kiss. She closed her eyes as he gently grasped her by the shoulders and held her away from him. After several slow, deep breaths she began to gain control, and cautiously opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes widened when she still saw the warmth of passion in his eyes, a warmth tinged with a look of sadness instead of the anger she had been taught to expect.
“Ye need not fear me, Gisele,” he said quietly.
“I do not believe I do.” She smiled slightly as he released her and handed her the wineskin. “I do know that that fear was not caused by you.”
“I suspected that. Ye have told me the truth, as much as I really need to ken, but I think ye havenae told me everything. Howbeit, that kiss did tell me more than the fact that I wish to kiss ye again. It told me that DeVeau bred a terror in you, a terror so deep and strong that it could kill the passion I felt, sadly brief though it was. For that alone the mon deserved to die.”
She grew still and stared at him as she watched him spread out their blankets. “You think I killed him.”
“Weel, nay and aye.”
“You cannot believe in both my innocence and my guilt. I am either one or the other.”
