She touched Audra’s hair, and her heart shimmered with tenderness.
Her daughter came first. Always.
HE could have stayed. He knew that, and it made the leaving even more difficult.
It had been pure joy to watch the excitement on her face as she spelled out a word, to watch her eyes as the letters, then the words, came together. Holy blazes, but she was quick.
He knew now he had to leave, had to answer the questions both of them had. As much as he was tempted to stay here, he had to know what obligations he might have elsewhere.
She should be safe. The Charlton made clear his protection of her, and that should not change if he disappeared. They both would have been fooled.
He reached the stable. One of the Charltons was already asleep in the stable. He found a blanket that smelled of horse and found a place to lie. But sleep would not come.
New images were coming lightning fast. The moment he touched the cover of the book, traced the title with his hands, he saw the man he knew had written it.
He knew the man and woman of the title. He saw King James look with love at the beautiful woman at his side.
He saw the two on thrones. The king stepped down and touched a dark-haired man, taking his hand and putting it in that of a woman. His breath stopped.
The man was the one he’d nearly killed in the ambush.
Chapter 19
KIMBRA rose at daybreak while Audra still slept. She’d spent a restless night, wondering at the choices she’d made in the past weeks. Still, for the first time in a very long time, she faced the day with anticipation.
Anticipation that could well be dangerous. Even deceptive.
Still, it bubbled inside her as she exchanged her chemise for a clean one, then laced the front of her gown. The Charlton had given this one to her, and now she had three. It was unaccustomed riches. Even more so that someone else had washed them all before she’d left the tower.
She added wood to the fire. She would milk Bess, then fix porridge for breakfast. She had five to feed today.
Then she hurried out to the barn, only to discover that the Scot had already milked Bess. The evidence was in the pail just outside the stall and in the drops of milk under the old cow.
She smiled at the thought of a noble battling old Bess. Then the smile faded as she realized she was alone. No one was in the stable, not Timothy, nor Geordie, nor the Scot. His horse, the one the Charlton had given him, was gone.
For a moment her heart stopped beating.
Surely he would not leave without telling her. Or mayhap something happened?
Her heart started to beat again, but she felt numb.
Do not be foolish. He would leave. Mayhap last night he remembered more than he had indicated. Mayhap last night had been his good-bye, a last gift that would stay with her all her life.
She looked around for Bear. She called him, then was relieved to hear his bark. Moments later he came running toward her and gave her a sloppy Bear kiss with his tongue. Geordie was with him.
“Mr. Howard?” she asked.
“He went hunting,” Geordie said. “He took my bow.”
Life seeped back into her limbs. He had not left. Still, her heart reached out to the Scot. Run. Run.
“Did he say when he would return?”
“Nay.”
“And Timothy?”
“He just relieved me at the path. I thought I would sleep in the stable.”
“I will have food soon.”
“Thank ye, Kimbra. I will wait then.”
Kimbra turned back to the stable, picked up the pail of milk, and returned to the cottage, Bear tagging along behind her.
Audra was in the main room, looking sleepy. She had pulled on her gown, but the laces had not yet been tied. “I am hungry.”
“So am I, love. We will have honey with the porridge this morning.”
Audra grinned.
The honey was a treat. Kimbra had found a hive six months earlier and had managed to get some honey from it, despite numerous stings. It was almost gone, and she’d been using it sparingly. But Timothy and Geordie were guests who were helping her keep the cottage.
After she finished preparing the meal, she told Audra to fetch Geordie.
The man ate as if he had not eaten in days. Audra watched him with fascination, barely eating her own food. He was a big man. More than six feet tall and with a solid girth. He had a lot to fill. He talked about his own two children, a son who worked at the Charlton stables and a daughter.
“Your Edie will be missing you,” Kimbra said. Geordie’s Edie was one of those who helped wrap Will’s body after his death. She was as plain as her husband, but one of the kindest natured women Kimbra knew.
“Her mother ails. She’s gone to look after her.”
“I am sorry to hear about her mother. Did the children go with her?”
“Aye. ’Twas one reason I was sent here. The Charlton knew Will was my friend, and Edie yours.”
“I am glad it was you.” And she was. Geordie was an honest man with little guile.
“Edie and I have worried about ye here alone.”
“I was alone when Will went raiding.”
“Aye, but there are more raids now.”
“I would have thought there was enough blood shed on Flodden Field.”
“’Tis the nature of the border, Kimbra. Ye know that.”
“Aye, centuries of killing and thievery,” she said bitterly. “It cost Will his life.”
“He knew the risks.” He changed the subject. “What do ye know of this Robert Howard?”
“Only that he is a Howard. Why?”
“There is something odd about him. I cannot tell ye why. Just that I do not think he is what he says he is.”
Her breath stuck in her throat. She had not expected that he, of all the Charltons, would sense something wrong. Cedric had, too, of course, but then he had wanted to find something wrong.
“Why do you think that?”
“I seen him look at ye, and ye at him,” he said cautiously. “And ’tis easy to like him. But he is no’ one of us.”
“Aye, he is,” Audra protested, and Kimbra suddenly realized she’d been listening to every word.
Geordie’s face flooded red, as he realized, like she, that Audra had been listening intently.
“Mayhap he is,” Geordie said, and reached for more honey.
The meal finished in awkward silence, and Geordie quickly made his thanks and left.
“You should not have said that,” she told Audra. “You do not interrupt when you are with adults.”
The rare rebuke brought tears to Audra’s eyes, and she ducked her face.
Kimbra put her arms around her daughter and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I know you want to defend Mr. Howard, and it is loyal and brave of you to do so, but you must be very careful. Cedric does not like him, and others are jealous as well. We must give them no reason to spur their dislike.”
“Then we should look after him.”
“I do not think he likes the idea of us looking after him.”
“We look after each other,” she said. “Why is that wrong?”
Why indeed?
Dozens of reasons came to mind, none of which she could explain to her daughter. But she admired her daughter’s simple and complete loyalty.
She took Audra to the garden, and they worked together to gather new herbs to take to the tower, and to Jane. They were nearly finished when she heard Bear.
Minutes later, the Scot rode up to the cottage, dragging a dead boar behind him.
Pleasure warred with dismay. Pleasure that he was back. Dismay that he had given up a chance to escape.
The Scot dismounted.
“You should have kept going,” she said in a voice too low for Audra to hear.
He stared at her for a long moment. He seemed to be memorizing her face. “I wanted to leave you with food. Geordie said he would butcher it for you.”
So he was going. It was what she wanted. What she’d prayed for. Yet the loss was now immediate and incredibly painful.
“He is probably a tough old boar,” the Scot said, “but ’twas all I could find. The woods seem well hunted.” He paused. “I did see some wolf tracks. They might be moving this way to find food.”
Audra was looking at the boar with awe. Then she looked up at the Scot. “You left us this morning. We had honey.”
“Then I am sorry I missed it,” he said solemnly. “Tomorrow ye can have meat.”
He looked down at his bloodied hands and clothing. “I must wash.”
“I will take care of your clothes,” Kimbra said.
“Nay, ye have enough to do. I can wash them myself.”
She stared at him with surprise.
“I find I am not without skills,” he said with the small self-mocking smile she was beginning to expect. Expectation did not change the impact, however. It never failed to touch her heart.
“There is a stream just beyond the trees,” she said.
“Aye, I saw it.”
She looked down at Audra, who held the basket full of aloe, rosemary, and bay. “Will you take them inside and wait for me? I must talk with Mr. Howard.”
Audra looked from one to the other, then her gaze rested on the Scot. “Will you give me a lesson on the lute?”
Kimbra had nearly forgotten about the lute. It had been left at the cottage in the rush to leave for the Charlton tower.
“Aye,” the Scot said. “This afternoon?” He looked toward Kimbra as if for approval, and she nodded.
“If,” she said to Audra, “you wash the herbs well while I am gone. Bear will stay here and look after you.”
“Where are you going?” Audra said. “I want to go, too.”
“Not this time,” Kimbra said. “We will be gone just a short time. Stay and keep Bear and Geordie company.”
Audra’s lip went out in disappointment, but she turned and went into the cottage, her small back stiff with indignation.
He led the hobbler inside his stall and unsaddled him. Then he joined her. She gave him two buckets, and she took two herself, then they walked together to the stream, which flowed from the waterfall she and Audra loved.
When they reached it, he stooped and washed his hands in the water, then turned to her. “I am not sure I can leave, lass.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Many reasons. But mostly because I feel I belong here. And we have not finished your reading lessons, or Audra’s lute lessons.”
“Neither are worth your life.”
“No one has suspected anything.”
“One has.”
He stilled. “Who?”
“Geordie. He suspects you are not what you say.”
“He just suspects?”
“Aye, but I know him. He will keep looking for oddities. Small things that might give you away. He can be like a dog with a bone.”
The Scot looked at her. “You and Audra can go to Scotland with me.”
He had mentioned that before. But it was impossible, no matter how wondrous it sounded. She wanted it. Dear God, how she wanted it. But she had a daughter, and he might well be wed and have a family of his own. Then where would she and Audra be?
He took off his doublet, then his shirt and rinsed the blood from them. She stood back and studied him. She had thought him too lean, but now she noticed the muscles. The new scars on his body contrasted with the older one. Both rippled as he moved.
He was incredibly attractive to her, especially when he turned those brilliant blue eyes on her.
“How did you kill the boar?”
“An arrow.”
“The first one?” Somehow she knew the answer before he opened his mouth.
He hesitated, then said, “Aye.”
Any other man she knew would not have hesitated. They would claim the first arrow regardless of whether it was or wasn’t. It was the Scot’s hesitation that told her it was true. She had never known a man who so hated to claim competence.
She knew how difficult it was to kill a wild boar. He was truly a warrior despite the gentle qualities she saw in him.
“Have you had more memories?”
“They come rapidly now.”
“But no name.”
“Nay.”
This time she heard real regret. He was beginning now to feel emotions from the past. Despite his insistence that this was home, she detected the seed of longing in him. Not only longing, but a need to know.
“Go,” she said.
His arm tightened around her. “I want to stay, but it would not be fair. Not to either of us. I must return to Scotland. I have to know who and what I was.”
“Aye,” she replied.
“I will be back,” he said.
She leaned her head against his chest. She realized that he’d been struggling with himself as to whether he really wanted to return home.
“You were right. There are things I must know.” He hesitated. “I think there are painful things. I cannot ask you to wait.”
She was silent. She hoped her eyes did not tell him she would wait forever. That was her secret.
His gaze studied her. “You said something once about words. Virtue Mine Honour. It keeps running over and over again in my mind. It means something. Or I think it should.”
She could not tell him that she had withheld something from him that was so important. He would despise her as the thief she was.
Fear was a terrible thing. She knew that now. It made one do things they would never do otherwise.
Give him the brooch. It will help him find his family.
He will not come back.
She was silent, even though her soul cried against that silence. Virtue Mine Honour. She had no honor.
Still fear persevered.
He tightened his arms around her as if sensing the confusion in her.
She wanted to feel his lips, his body against her. She wanted more, much more, but she had just lied to him, at least by omission. She deserved no more.
But then, without invitation, he kissed her, his lips fierce and demanding, and hers equally so.
In seconds they were on the ground, and he was disrobing her, and she him. She knew he was leaving now. She wanted, nay, needed him beyond imagining.
His lips made love to her. Then he entered her, and this time the explosion came quickly.
AUDRA finished pounding the herbs into powder and very carefully placed them into small bottles.
Feeling quite abandoned, she went up to the loft and gazed out the window. She could not see her mother or Mr. Howard, but she did see Geordie riding off.
Then he was gone, too. She looked around the loft. It was where she had been told to go if there was immediate danger. She was to get into a small cupboard in a corner. If they had more warning, she and her mother were to go into the woods.
Now, though, she was just sulking. She’d fiercely wanted to go with her mother and Mr. Howard. She did not understand why they did not want her along.
She thought about getting in the cupboard. They would return and not find her, and for a few moments she would become important to them. Mayhap important enough that they would decide they both needed to take care of her.
She needed a father.
She did not remember that much about her own father, and that worried her. She should remember more. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall him.
He had been big. And dark. She remembered that. But she could not remember his face, and that made her feel sad and disloyal.
She imagined, though, he was like Robert Howard. She had liked him from the beginning, although she realized there was some mystery about him. But he was kind and never, ever treated her like a baby.
Until just now.
No, she couldn’t hide. Then they really would think she was a baby.
She started to explore, instead. She liked being up here. It was her refuge when she grew lonel
y. She would gaze out the window and make up tales from the clouds.
She reached under the pallet. She used to have some treasures there. A bead bracelet from a fair. A special stone. A pretty button. She thought they would be safe here. She found the box and opened it, disappointed that the treasures were not as grand as she remembered. Then she saw something caught above in the rope mattress. She reached for it and found it stuck. She tried to work it loose, then triumphantly pulled out a brooch of some kind. The colors were glorious. Red and silver and gold. She handled it carefully because it was so beautiful.
Why was it hidden?
Against raiders, she thought.
She could not bear to let it go. How had her mother come to have it? There was a wonderful story there. She was sure of it.
Clutching it, she climbed back down and placed it on the table.
Then she went outside to wait.
Chapter 20
KIMBRA lay in the Scot’s arms. She wanted never to leave them.
Her body still felt the tremors of lovemaking, but as marvelous as that had been, the tenderness now was even more so.
How could she let him go?
She ran her hand over his good arm, relishing the feel of it. The muscles that contrasted with the soft brush of auburn hair.
She had never known how lovely it was to be still with someone, to understand and communicate without words.
He brushed a curl away from her face and smiled at her. “You get bonnier every day.”
Because he made her feel that way.
She took his hand and brought it to her lips. She tasted the saltiness of the skin and savored it.
He moved his head slightly, and their eyes locked.
“You told me a little about your mother. Is there any other family?”
“Nay.”
“And her father?”
“A physician. Not like the one here at the Charltons. My mother told me he believed in herbs. He taught her about them, and she taught me.”
“And her mother?”
“She died in childbirth when my mother was eight.” She felt the familiar pang at the thought of a family destroyed.
Now she realized she had never trusted Will as she trusted this man beside her, and that shocked her into silence.
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