“I am George,” the man said. “You must be the Scotsman.”
“The Scotsman?” Nigel asked in English, praying that the man not only understood his language but spoke it.
“Oui.” George spoke in a thickly accented English as he explained, “You are the man who rides with the Lady Gisele DeVeau. All know about you. I was surprised when we found her alone.”
“Ye mean when ye captured her and turned her over to the bastards who want to kill her,” he said coldly, pressing his knife just a little closer to the life-giving vein in George’s throat.
“I was told that she was a murderess, that she had killed her husband in a particularly brutal way.”
“And ye believe without question everything ye are told? Or was your haste to believe that tiny lass capable of such a crime aided by the coin that now weights your purse?”
“I am a poor man, sir, with six whining children and a whining wife.Oui, I hungered for the bounty, and I thought it would be fairly earned. As I have said, I believed I joined the hunt for a murderess. There is no crime in that.”
Slowly, Nigel got off the man, but he kept his dagger at the ready and watched George carefully as he sat up. George was right There was no crime in trying to get a share of the bounty offered for a murderess. It had taken him a while to believe Gisele had never killed her husband, andheknew the whole sordid truth of her brutal marriage. George did not. He had been told by men of title and wealth that one of their number had been murdered by a woman. Why should he doubt it? Yet, Nigel began to get the feeling that George had had a change of heart.
“Did ye hurt her?” he asked coldly, not willing to trust the man too quickly.
“Non. I went to her with my sword sheathed. I agreed to capture her. It was not my place to mete out her punishment. We did have a small battle, however. I think I might have won that, but one of the other men came along and put a stop to it.”
“Ye didnae laugh at her, did ye?” he asked, able to smile briefly at the image of Gisele facing this man, sword in hand and ready to fight.
“I admit that I was amused, but I did not laugh. My amusement was short-lived. You taught her well.”
“And she will get better. She has a gift for it, if not the strength. So, ye didnae hurt her, but did someone else?”
“One of the men knocked her on the head a couple of times.”
“A couple of times?”
“One was to put a stop to the fight, a light blow that knocked her to her knees, but no more. He also was driven to hit her once or twice because she goaded him.”
Nigel cursed softly. “She should learn when to guard her tongue.”
“It is a little sharp.”
“A little?” Nigel murmured. Then he looked at George carefully. “Ye have had a change of heart.”
George nodded and sighed, grimacing as he looked down at the purse tied to his scabbard. “I have. I looked at that tiny woman and could not believe she did what they said she did, not even when she tried to skewer me. But what changed my mind the most was the way Sir Vachel looked at her and spoke to her.”
“Who is this Sir Vachel?”
“The lord that squats in that keep. He is the cousin of her husband.”
“Ye dinnae think he believes she is guilty?”
“I do not believe he cares if she is or not. He certainly does not care that someone killed his cousin. Sir Vachel is a frightening man. I am glad to be free of him and this place. He will hang her, but not any time soon. He means to have his fill of her first.” George hastily edged away from Nigel when the man cursed.
“Are you certain of this?”
It was hard for Nigel to control his rage, but he knew that scaring George with it would not get him anywhere. It was not George he was furious with, either, but the DeVeaux. First Michael had tried to crush Gisele, raping and beating her repeatedly. Now his cousin wished to follow in his footsteps. Nigel had finally awakened the passion in Gisele, freed it from the chains of the fear and loathing her husband had instilled in her. Now another DeVeau intended to undo all of his work, to leave poor Gisele with more scars. Nigel was not sure she could survive more brutality and humiliation. This time that glorious passion he had tasted too briefly could be killed, damaged beyond redemption.
“Ye must help me get her away from there,” Nigel said.
“Now, sir—” George’s protest ended on a squeak as Nigel grabbed him by the front of his padded jupon and glared into his face.
“Ye will help me get the lass out of there. Heed me, hanging would be a blessing to the lass if this Vachel means to abuse her. That is what her husband did to her throughout their thankfully short marriage. Gisele didnae kill Michael DeVeau, but he deserved to die ten times over for each rape and each beating he inflicted on that wee lass. She has only just begun to recover from the scars that mon left on her heart and mind. She willnae survive more of the same. Aye, she might breathe, walk, talk, eat, and piss, but inside she will be dead.”
“You said Michael was her husband. A husband cannot—”
