Maldie was right, though. She did love him, still loved him, even though he had hurt her more than anyone had in a very long time. Michael had hurt her pride and her body, humiliated her, and made her afraid. Her family had betrayed her and made her feel alone, unwanted. Nigel had torn the heart right out of her. Yet, there, right beside all of the pain she was suffering, lingered love. Gisele was not sure that was wise. How many times did she have to be struck down before she decided loving him gave her more pain than happiness?
And what about pride, she thought with a hint of anger. Was she expected to swallow that for the sake of love? She was the one who had been wronged. She was also not the one who was confused about what she did or did not feel, or for whom. It seemed unfair that she should now be expected to show a readiness to forgive and listen.
But she would, she admitted with a sigh. At least for a little while. Maldie was right. She would be a fool if she did not at least linger at Donncoill long enough to listen. There was always the small chance that he would say all she needed to hear, that he would find the words to soothe the pain he had inflicted, and her love for him made her want to take that chance. Gisele prayed that she would be able to forgive him enough so that she did not think every word out of his mouth was a lie.
Nigel stared at the door to Gisele’s bedchamber. He already missed her, and that feeling was sharpened by the fear that he would never hold her in his arms again. Uncertainty gnawed at him. He was willing to bare his soul, but would she be willing to listen?
“I dinnae think it would be wise to see her tonight,” Eric said as he grasped Nigel by the arm and tugged him down the hall to the room they would share.
“Nay, probably not. Yet, I fear that if I wait her anger will harden.”
“Then ye shall have to think of all the right words to soften it.”
“I ken that ye all believe I can talk any woman into softening toward me, but Gisele isnae just any woman.”
“Nay, I could see that e’en though my meeting with her was verra brief, and not verra pleasant.”
Once in the room he would share with Eric for a while, Nigel sprawled on the bed. “Well, this woman may ne’er give me a chance to say what I need to say. And, considering how poorly she has been treated by others in the last year, even if she does agree to listen to me she may not be willing to believe a word I say.”
“Then ye will have to keep saying it until she does,” Eric said, his voice muffled as he tugged off his jupon.
“Repeating myself will add the appropriate ring of truth, will it?”
“It might,” Eric replied, ignoring Nigel’s sarcasm.
“I eagerly await the day ye find yourself in love with a lass.”
Eric smiled faintly as he slipped beneath the covers. “With ye and Balfour as my examples, I pray I have the sense to learn from your many mistakes.” He laughed when Nigel lightly swatted him on the arm.
“Ye may be the cleverest lad that has e’er lived behind these walls, but believe me when I tell ye a mon’s wits can turn to mud when a lass touches his heart.” Nigel stood up and began to remove his clothes. “I should have kenned better, but I didnae. Despite all of my experience, I stepped wrong in every way possible.”
“Ye must not worry so,” Eric murmured as Nigel slid into bed. “’Tis nay over yet.”
“Ye didnae see the look in her eyes, laddie, not the way I did. I have seen it but once before, and it chilled me then. I was able to pull her out of the dark mood she had fallen into, but that time I wasnae the one who had caused it. This time her pain is all of my doing. Who is there to pull her out of it now?”
“We will, and ye will. Ye love her, and I have the feeling that, if she doesnae love ye now, she is verra close to doing so. Just speak from your heart.”
Nigel sighed as he stared up at the ceiling above the bed. Eric made it all sound so easy, but he could not share the boy’s confidence. He would tell Gisele the truth and he would certainly be speaking from the heart, but he would not blame her one little bit if she spat upon both and walked away.
Twenty-three
It was hard, but Gisele bit back a smile as she watched Nigel approach her where she sat near the kitchen gardens. For two weeks he had wooed her, and she had let him. The morning after she had been so devastated he had forced her to sit still and told her everything, from how he had come to believe himself in love with Maldie to why he had left Donncoill despite his family’s protestations. He had readily confessed his doubts about why he wanted her, even why he had been so adamant about helping her. He had also apologized for not telling her all of this sooner. She found that she could actually understand how he could remain uncertain until he had finally seen Maldie again for the first time in seven long years.
She had forced herself to remain aloof, however, for the first week. She had not wanted to allow her need to believe him lead her astray or make her give him her trust, only to have it abused again. He was so earnest in his wooing, so sweet and attentive, that she had begun to weaken. Surely a man could not work so hard to win her if he did not care about her?
That hint of uncertainty was the only shadow on her happiness. Nigel wooed her, spoke of how he admired her in many ways, but he never spoke of love. The few tender kisses he had stolen told her that the passion they shared was still strong, but that was no longer enough. The hurt she had suffered when she had thought he had just used her showed her that she could not simply be his lover and hope to remain a sweet, pleasant memory in his mind. She needed more. She needed love, marriage, children, and all the rest. She did not want to be just a memory. She wanted to be his life.
“I see ye have come out to enjoy the sun,” Nigel said as he sat down next to her on a low stone bench.
“I quickly learned that you were right. This land is not blessed with many sun-filled days, and one should take full advantage of them when they do arrive.”
He put his arm around her and gently kissed her cheek, before touching the cloth she held in her hands. “Needlework?”
“You need not sound so surprised. Are not all ladies taught how to ply a needle?”
“Aye, and no need to bristle. I meant no offense. I guess I too quickly grew accustomed to seeing ye with a sword in your wee hands.”
She smiled and nodded. “I rather miss our lessons.”
