And it was cowardice, she mused. She had run from what she felt for Nigel, tried to run as fast and as far away as she could. It was also foolish. There was no running away from it. The love she had for Nigel stayed with her. All she did was deprive herself of seeing him, of touching him, and of savoring his touch upon her skin. Gisele doubted she could completely flee all that, either, for the memory would stay with her always.
She met his gaze and sighed. He was waiting patiently for her to answer his question. Nigel could be annoyingly stubborn. Gisele suspected he could calmly wait for her answer far longer than she could calmly tolerate it.
“I am not sure what I was doing makes very much sense to me, either,” she finally replied. “Vachel looks very much like my husband Michael. So much so that, briefly, I feared I was seeing a ghost.”
Nigel frowned. He found that news a little unsettling. Although he had only seen Vachel briefly through a fog of rage, he had recognized the man’s beauty. Then he cursed himself for an idiot, and pushed aside his bout of jealousy. The DeVeau men might be beautiful to look upon, but they were black-hearted bastards who had caused Gisele only pain and humiliation. No one knew that better than she did. He doubted the beauty of the men affected her in any way.
“That must have made it all the more troublesome for you,” he said, slowly running his hand up and down her side.
“It did,” she whispered, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “It was worse than even I could have guessed it would be.Oui, Vachel looked like Michael, but, whereas Michael’s cruelty revealed itself in rages and bouts of clear madness, Vachel’s is the cold sort. Vachel does not blindly strike out. He is calm. He thinks carefully about what he is doing and, I think, enjoys it. He planned to keep me and use me until he wearied of me, and then he would hang me.”
After cursing viciously for a moment, Nigel wished yet again that he had killed the man. “That is what George said, but I didnae really want to believe it. ’Tis done, my bonny French rose. Ye must put it from your mind. That bastard isnae worth even one bad memory.”
“I would like to forget it all, but Vachel DeVeau is not a man you forget easily. He is truly evil, Nigel. I think he may be mad, but it is a frightening madness, one that twists the soul yet leaves him appearing sane, and he is a very clever man.”
“So, ye dinnae think that ye washed him away.”
Gisele smiled in response to his insight and also in silent acquiescence, for he began to tentatively unlace her chemise. “Oui. I was trying to wash his touch away. I used to do the same when my husband touched me. In my poor, confused mind it was the same. A madness seizes me, and I have a wish to remove the skin from all the places I was touched. When I was in my husband’sdemanse, the maids would stop me before I did myself harm. This time, I fear I imposed that sad chore upon you. I humbly beg your pardon.”
“There is naught ye have to apologize for.”
“Oui, there is. What troubles me at such times is none of your doing. You should not have to contend with the results of other men’s crimes against me.”
Nigel knew there was nothing more he could say to assure her that he did not mind, so he kissed her, trying to imbue his kiss with all of the tenderness he felt toward her. He knew she did not need his strength. She had her own. Nor could he mend all of her hurts, only understand them. It was that willingness to understand that he tried to convey in his touch.
What he ached to do now was make love to her. Part of him desperately wanted to caress away all memory of Vachel’s touch, to stroke away the man’s mark upon her. It was an act of possession, and he knew it. Like some beast of the wood he wanted to put his scent back on her skin. What softened that feral attitude was that he also wished to remind her, through a sweet, gentle sharing of passion, that not all men were like the DeVeaux. She needed to know that if she were ever going to conquer her bad memories. Nigel was just not sure that she was in any mood to be reminded, however.
Cautiously, he slid his hand inside her chemise. When she did nothing to stop him, did not even tense beneath his caress, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Vachel had not harmed her enough to kill her passion or make her want to shy away from any touch. It was mostly a selfish relief, he admitted to himself. He had feared losing all chance to savor Gisele’s passion again. Hand in hand with that selfishness, however, was a deep gratitude that very few scars had been added to the ones Gisele already carried. She did not deserve such cruelty.
“I cannae understand how your parents could give ye to such a family,” he murmured as he slowly tugged off her chemise. “’Tis hard to believe that no one kenned that the DeVeaux are all mad.”
“That it is,” she agreed, smiling at him as he shed his own clothes. “My parents are long dead, God rest their souls. It was my guardians, an aging uncle and a distant cousin, who made the marriage agreement.” She readily accepted him back into her arms. “Mygrandmérehad much of the raising of me, but she, too, died ere this catastrophe befell me. I like to believe that my parents or Nana would have never made such a betrothal if they had survived. They would have at least helped me when Michael’s true nature revealed itself.
“In truth, I begin to think this path I have been forced down was my fate from the day I came screaming out of my mother’s womb.” She shrugged when Nigel looked at her doubtfully. “The youth I was first betrothed to died at a very young age, and my parents arranged nothing new before they, too, died. One other betrothal was made by my guardians, but that man got himself killed by a jealous husband. My guardians were having some difficulty in arranging yet another marriage for me when Michael saw me at the king’s court and approached them. My guardians, indeed my whole family, could not believe their good fortune. I was seen, bid upon, and sold before I barely realized what had happened.”
“’Tis a wrong that can ne’er be righted, but now that your kinsmen see the error of their ways and intend to help you, mayhap the sting of it will ease some.”
“I pray that it will.” She curled her body around his. “Now, my gallant Scottish knight, do you really wish to keep talking about my family and my troubles?”
Gisele was surprised at how eager she was to make love to Nigel. After all she had endured she ought to shy away from a man’s touch, if only for a little while, just long enough for the fear Vachel had instilled in her to fade. As she rubbed her body against Nigel’s, though, silently encouraging him, she realized that this time her passion was born of purely selfish reasons. Gisele felt confident that Nigel’s touch could wipe away the memory of Vachel’s cool, soft hands against her skin. Surrounding herself with Nigel’s scent would take away the last vestiges of Vachel’s perfume, and in a way both she and Nigel could enjoy. It would also strongly remind her that not all men were the heartless, soulless beasts the DeVeaux were, that passion did not have to be about power and pain.
Nigel made love to her slowly and thoroughly. Gisele eagerly returned his every kiss, his every touch, aching to soak herself in the feel of him. With a soft cry of greed and desperation, she accepted him into her body. She savored the way her body shook with the strength of her release, the way Nigel tensed and groaned her name as he shared in that deep pleasure. When he collapsed in her arms, she held him tightly against her, wrapping her body snugly around his. She mumbled a protest when he finally ended the intimacy of their embrace.
“Did that help?” he asked as he tugged the blanket around their chilling bodies.
She laughed slightly as he pulled her back into his arms and she snuggled against his warmth. It should probably alarm her that this man knew her so well, could seem to guess her every thought and mood with ease, but it did not. Gisele just felt closer to him, more comfortable in his presence. She knew she could tell him anything, and that he would still understand even if she could not find the words to correctly express what she felt. The only thing that troubled her about such a rich companionship was the fear that he could look deeper into her heart than she wanted him to, that somehow he could guess how much she loved him. She prayed that he would be kind enough to conceal his knowledge if he did discover that he held her heart in his big hands, especially if he could not return her feelings.
“Oui, it helped. I did not mean to make you feel used,” she added quietly, suddenly feeling a little guilty.
“If that is the only way ye use me, then feel free to use me all ye wish.” He smiled briefly when she giggled and then grew serious as he combed his fingers through her thick curls. “I shall now confess that, in a small way, I was using you for the same reasons ye were using me. I wanted that bastard to be completely gone. I wanted to take away all thought of him, all feel of him upon your bonny skin, and, aye, even all smell of him. To be painfully truthful, lass, I wanted to take his mark off of your sweet body and put mine back on there.” Nigel waited a little tensely for her response to his confession, feeling both relieved and surprised when she just grinned and kissed his cheek.
He sounded jealous, and Gisele took great pleasure in that. She knew she should not get her hopes up, but that strong hint of jealousy meant that he was not without some strong feeling for her. It was a far cry from the love she needed from him, but she would gladly accept this small salve to her vanity and bruised heart.
“We stumble down the same path,mon cher,” she murmured. “What you reluctantly admit to is exactly what I wished you to do. I, too, wanted Vachel’s touch rubbed away, wanted the smell of that man gone from my skin. And I have discovered something since we became lovers.”
“Oh, aye? What?”
She winked at him. “That rolling about on the ground with you is a very good way to clear my head and heart of all troubles and fears.”
