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 choices—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.
Cautiously, she led her horse far away from the campsite before she mounted the animal. She had no idea of where she was going, only that she had to get away. Before she had met Nigel she had eluded the grasp of the DeVeaux for almost a year. She could do it again. At least, now, while she tried to stay out of sight, she could cling to the hope that soon her family would free her from her ordeal.
Wending her way through the dark, thinning forest, she touched the hilt of her sword and sighed. She had just left behind probably the only man in the civilized, Christian world willing to teach her a skill taught only to men. It was possible that she had also left behind the only man who could stir her passion. Gisele felt an overwhelming urge to hurry back to the shelter of Nigel’s arms, but she gritted her teeth and continued on. With each step she took away from Nigel her pain and longing grew more powerful, and she knew that resisting its pull would be a long, hard battle. Gisele plodded onward, praying that soon the pain and longing would ease, that Nigel would become no more than a sweet memory. If not, leaving him could easily prove to be the most agonizing choice she had ever made, one that would torment her for the rest of her life.
Sixteen
Nigel frowned when he woke and saw no sign of Gisele. His concern grew tenfold when, after slipping into the shelter of the trees to see to his personal needs, he returned to the camp and she was still nowhere to be found. Then he saw that her horse was gone, and he felt his heart clench with fear for her.
Even as he rushed to clear the camp and ready the horses, he looked for some sign of what had happened while he had slept. He could not believe that he had slept through an attack or abduction by their enemies, or that the DeVeaux would have left him alive to come after them. Gisele certainly would not have allowed herself to be taken away quietly or easily, yet he found no blood, no sign of a struggle, and no sign that anyone else had been near their camp.
Slowly he came to the chilling realization that Gisele had left willingly and alone. He stood next to the horses, staring blindly around the camp, and tried to understand what his eyes told him. All his instincts told him that she had run away, but when he asked himself why, he found no answers.
How could she love him so passionately one moment and slip away the next? When they were so close to their goal, so near to getting to Scotland and the first taste of safety she had had in a year or more, how could she ride out alone and risk discovery and capture? She had confessed to having little sense of direction, so it seemed pure madness to just ride off unguided. He tried to think of something he might have done or said to hurt or offend her, to make her so upset that she would leave him without a word of farewell, but there was nothing. It was true that he greedily made love to her whenever he could yet never spoke of love, but she had said she did not ask for that. He had certainly seen no sign of unhappiness or dissatisfaction.
The more he tried to understand the reason for her leaving, the less sense it made. Alongside his fear for her safety grew a slow, burning anger. He had pledged to fight for her and keep her safe, had done his best to keep that pledge since Guy had given her into his care. She owed him some explanation for running away.
He mounted and began the slow work of trailing her. Gisele could not simply walk away from him, from what they shared, and she had no right to put her life in danger after all he had done to keep her alive. He refused to believe that the fierce lovemaking they had indulged in last night was her way of saying good-bye, or that she would put herself in danger of being captured by the ever-increasing hordes of people looking for her without a sound reason. Nigel swore that he would hunt her down and get the answers he sought, right after he shook some sense into her.
Gisele reined in on top of the small hillock and stared down at the fields spread out below her. It was going to be difficult to cross such a wide, open area without being seen or without being stopped and questioned if seen. As she dampened a small scrap of cloth with some water from her waterskin and then idly wiped the sweat and dust from her face and neck, she wondered how Nigel had always found such sheltered areas to travel in. A little shade would be most welcome right now, as would something to hide behind. Then she sighed. Unlike her, Nigel always knew where they were going. She was, she reluctantly confessed to herself, just riding blindly, praying God or some good angel would steer her in the right direction.
She already missed Nigel, had begun to do so even as she had left the campsite just hours ago. Just knowing she was leaving him had been enough to make her start to miss him and want him. It took all of her willpower to stop herself from turning around and going back to him. Far too many times she had to repeat her reasons for leaving him, had to reaffirm their worth in her confused mind. The further she rode, the less weight they carried.
Was not experiencing the sweet passion they shared worth a little heartbreak? Then there was how they talked and laughed together, even how they were quiet together. Was not enjoying that rich companionship also worth a little heartbreak?
“Sweet Mary and Jesu,” she muttered. “I am pitifully undecided.”
After she took a deep breath to steady the fast pace of her heart and clear her mind, she found she could briefly smile at her own confusion. One moment she was convincing herself that she had to leave Nigel, that there was no other choice. The next, she was convincing herself that there was no harm in going back to him. Unfortunately, the latter was many times easier to accomplish than the former. It kept making her hesitate, and she knew that was dangerous. She was leaving herself vulnerable to being tracked down by Nigel, if he chose to come after her at all, and of being found by her enemies.
It occurred to Gisele that she had lost some of the skills that had kept her alive for nearly a year before she had even met Nigel. She had come to rely on him, had given him a great deal of power over her life and freedom. That should alarm her more than it did, especially since she still had no real proof that he could be trusted. The fact that the man was an exciting lover was not exactly a tribute to or affirmation of his trustworthiness.
Glancing around one last time, she started down the hillock. She was reasonably sure that she was headed in the right direction to reach her cousin Marie, although she knew trusting in her own miserable sense of direction could be a mistake. The woman had helped her once and might be willing to do so again, at least in some small way. Crossing the fields was the most direct route and, although it was dangerously open, so were all of the routes that would take her around the fields. If she crossed the fields she would be exposed to view for the shortest amount of time.
Halfway across the fields she realized that she had made a serious error. Nearly a dozen men suddenly appeared just ahead, and she did not need their triumphant cry to tell her that they were DeVeau men and that they had recognized her. She turned her horse and kicked him into a gallop, desperate to get to some place where she could hide until the danger passed.
One man caught up to her, riding close by her side and reaching out for her reins. She drew her sword and struck out at him. Although she did not hurt him, slapping him with the flat of the sword instead of sticking him with the point, she startled him so with her attack that he veered away and had trouble staying in the saddle. Leaning low over the neck of her horse, she pressed the animal for more speed and tore up the small hillock she had just ridden down. She could see the trees to the west, back where she had come from, but was not sure she could reach them in time to lose the men racing after her.
A cry went up from her pursuers as she entered the small forest, and she knew they were dangerously close. Although it was treacherous to ride so swiftly in such close quarters, she slowed down only a little as she wound her way through the trees. The sounds of the men hunting her grew a little fainter, and she looked for a place to hide.
To her right she caught sight of a low mound, and she turned toward it. She had barely reined her horse to a full stop before she was out of the saddle and pulling him behind it. It was a poor hiding place, barely enough to hide her mount behind, but there was little else to choose from. As she leaned against a knotted tree trunk and struggled to catch her breath, she tried to listen to the men tracking her down, hoping to learn where they were simply from the sounds they made.
Slowly, she began to calm down, her heartbeat and breathing becoming less swift and painful. She could still hear the men, but none of them seemed to be moving her way. If she remained still and quiet they might miss her, might continue on, thinking she had just kept running straight through the wood.
Just as she began to think she had escaped them, a soft footfall sounded behind her. Her sword in her hands, Gisele whirled around and cursed when she saw the tall, lean man standing there. It was her ill luck that at least one of the DeVeaux dogs had some skill in hunting down his prey. He looked at her and then at her sword and grinned widely. Gisele did not appreciate finding out that she had been right in thinking most men would find a small woman with a sword a source of great amusement. She prayed she would acquit herself well enough to make him see that this was no joke.
“Have you been playing the boy for so long that you now think you are one?” he asked as he drew his sword and began to circle her.
“I may be small, but this sword is not too heavy for my hands, and it has a very sharp edge.”
