Highland Honor by Hannah Howell Page B

herself if the DeVeaux could be fooled into heading the wrong way.
    It seemed as if she had only just closed her eyes when she felt Nigel shaking her awake. “Cease, I am awake now,” she grumbled as she rubbed her eyes. “Are they gone?”
    â€œAye,” he replied as he pulled her to her feet and led her down the hill. “For a moment I feared one sharp-eyed mon had seen our horses, but he hadnae. They just rode along the trail I laid for them.”
    â€œThen we are safe.” She could not fully hide a grimace as she pulled her stiff body into her saddle and nudged her horse into following Nigel.
    â€œAye, for the moment. ’Twill take them a wee while to see that that trail goes nowhere. I hope to regain the time and the distance we lost in making it.”
    â€œI thought you were trying to shake them free.”
    â€œI was. I am. But one shouldnae rely on such a trick working that weel. They have held fast to our trail for this long. That means that at least one of them has some skill.”
    Gisele did not find that news very comforting. She wanted reassurances. She wanted to be told that their enemies were gone, well and truly lost in the wilderness, never to haunt them again. As she struggled to quietly follow Nigel, Gisele wondered if he grew as weary of this game as she did.
    When Nigel finally chose a campsite for the night, Gisele nearly cheered aloud. She was weary to the bone and not at all sure where they were after all the twists and turns Nigel had indulged in to elude the DeVeaux. After they had spent from dawn to dusk running for their lives, she also wondered how and when Nigel had decided they were safe enough to stop for the night.
    She tended to her horse and slipped into the shelter of the surrounding wood for a moment of privacy. As she spread her bed out she glanced at the fire Nigel had built, and frowned. It was a small fire, well sheltered by encircling stones, but such a light could still be easily seen from a distance in the night. When he returned from stealing a moment of privacy for himself, Gisele sat down on her bedding and looked at him. She blithely ignored his brief but telling glance at her bed, which she had spread out on the same side of the fire as his.
    â€œAre you certain we should have a fire?” she asked. “Welcome though it is, is it not a beacon for our enemies to follow?”
    â€œThey are too far away to see this wee light,” he replied.
    Gisele blinked slowly, and stared at him hard for a long moment. “And just when did you decide they were a safe distance away?”
    â€œNot many moments after they hied off down my false trail.” He watched her closely as he set out the remainder of the rabbit, the last of their bread, and a small chunk of cheese. He suspected she was angry, but he was not sure why she should be.
    â€œThen why have you made us ride so hard and fast for hours?” Gisele grabbed a share of the food and struggled against the urge to strike him.
    â€œI felt it best that we put as many miles as we could between us and them.”
    As she chewed on the stale bread, she fought to control her anger. He was right. It was wise to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the people who were so eager to kill her. She was achingly tired, and she dearly wanted to blame someone for that. Nigel was not the one, however. The one who deserved her fury was far beyond her reach. She was going to have to try to accept her lot with more grace and patience.
    â€œI ask your pardon, Sir Murray,” she said quietly as she accepted the wineskin he held out to her and took a small drink, a little dismayed at how nearly empty it was. “I am tired, and am in an ill temper.”
    â€œThat is easy to understand, lass.”
    â€œIt may be, but you do not deserve the sharp edge of my tongue. It is not your fault that I ache and am enduring a miserable ride across France. I but search for