Free Highland Honor by Hannah Howell

wished he were sure of what she had pulled him into, of which emotion he should trust. She looked a lot like the woman he had run away from and, although he wanted to believe he had more sense, he had to wonder if that was why he was so drawn to Gisele. If nothing else, it was only fair to her to try to decide if he truly cared for her or if he were just reaching out to the ghost of Maldie, his brother’s wife.
    That was something he had to know by the time they reached Scotland, he thought with a grimace as he turned on his back and stared up at the stars. Gisele would see her resemblance to Maldie the minute she set eyes on the woman. If he and Gisele had become lovers by then, he needed to know his own heart and mind, for he would certainly have to explain himself. And he knew that Gisele would not be easy to convince after having suffered so many bitter betrayals.
    He closed his eyes and readied himself to go to sleep. He prayed that when the time came that Gisele accepted him as her lover he would at least be certain that he truly wanted Gisele DeVeau, was not simply using her and fooling himself. Using Gisele to sate a hunger for another woman was an insult he could not inflict upon her. The cause of his lust should be easier to discern than the cause of the feelings twisting his insides into knots. For the latter, he mused as he felt sleep weight his body, he was going to need time, a lot of time. Scotland suddenly did not seem that far away.
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    Gisele awoke in a cold sweat. Tense, her hand curled tightly around the handle of her dagger, she listened intently to the sounds of the wood. A soft howling was carried on the wind, and she knew why she was suddenly awake and terrified.
    â€œI hate wolves,” she whispered, a little comforted by the faint agitation of the horses. It was good to know that she was not the only one made uneasy by the wolves.
    For several long moments she lay, eyes tightly closed, and tried to ignore the sound. One glance at the peacefully sleeping Nigel told her that he was not worried, so she should not be, either. Her determination to be brave wavered almost immediately as more howls disturbed the peace of the night. It would take a lot more than bold talk and strong will to cure her of her terror of wolves. It was an old and hardened fear. She knew she would not get to sleep lying there trying to ignore them, just as she knew she desperately needed to get some rest. If she became too exhausted she could slow everything down.
    She cautiously sat up and looked at Nigel. Not only did he look safe and strong, but close at his side was his sword. Gisele gently nibbled at her bottom lip as she tried to make up her mind. She did not want to appear a complete coward. She also did not wish to make Nigel think that she sought any more than a respite from her own fears. A shiver tore through her body as the wolves continued their eerie music, and she gathered up her bedding. If Nigel woke, she would worry about explaining herself then.
    As silently as she could she held tightly to her bedding and crept to his side. She was embarrassed by her cowardice, but that shame was not enough to stop her. If the knowledge that the wolves were far away and that the fire would keep them at bay could not stop her, self-disgust certainly would not. Taut with worry that she would wake Nigel and have to confess her fear, she carefully spread out her bedding right by his side.
    She was just settling down and wrapping herself in her blanket when she knew he was awake. It did not surprise her when she turned and found him looking at her, but she inwardly cursed her ill luck.
    â€œCold?” Nigel asked, wondering why she looked so guilty. He hastily subdued a surge of hope that she had sought him out for reasons of passion. It was too soon.
    â€œ Oui ,” she agreed hastily, then jumped and edged a little closer to him when the wolves howled.
    â€œAfraid of the wolves, are ye?”
    â€œ Oui ,