Beloved Stranger

by Patricia Potter

  His own quiet silence was more demanding than words.

  “And the man who fathered you.”

  “There were promises, my mother was in love. An old story. But when she conceived . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Then what, Kimbra?”

  “He did not want a bastard. Neither did his father, the earl. They came one evening and burned the cottage. My grandfather was inside. The earl must have thought she was inside as well, but she and the maid had taken a late walk and lingered to pick mushrooms. They returned to see the cottage ablaze. Her maid knew she was at risk, too. They fled to the border where the maid had family, and my mother worked as a maid.”

  “Do you know who he was?”

  “Aye. I know the name. Burlington. A very powerful name. She lived in fear until she died. She taught me, though, about plants. She said it would be something I could always use. She used to take me to the gardens at night and tell me about the various plants. After she died I assisted the herb grower when I could.”

  “But she did not teach you to read?”

  “Nay, she refused to teach me. She feared if anyone knew she could read, it might raise questions and possibly lead the earl to her. A maid did not read books. Neither did a maid’s child. Not without questions.”

  “I am sorry,” he said, his finger tracing her cheek.

  “’Twas nothing of your doing. She taught me not to trust, especially nobles. And she was terrified of fire. She made me fear it as well.”

  “And your husband? Did he know?”

  “Nay. He did not care about my past, and I did not wish to burden him with it. I feared he might go after Burlington. And I think he relished taking a wife that was . . . different. He was always the rebel.” She could not help but smile at the remembrance.

  “I think I would have liked him,” he said.

  “You would have. Everyone did.”

  He was silent for a long time, and she feared she had said something wrong, had told too much. She still did not know why she had told him what she had told no other living soul.

  “I must go,” she said, but her words were unconvincing, even to herself. “I left Audra in the cottage.” As soon as she said the words, she knew it was even later than she thought. The first shadows of dusk were appearing. Audra would be safe enough. She knew to stay inside the cottage. And now there were two Charltons to look after her.

  She stretched with pleasure at the warmth of the afternoon and the rare soft breeze that caressed them. She had finally uttered her darkest secrets to him, and he had not shied away.

  He helped her up, then tied the laces of her dress. He had a quiet competence in doing that, just as he had in so many other things.

  He kissed her. He had kissed her before. Passionately. Hungrily. Tenderly. But this kiss was different and melted every defense she had. This kiss was love. Promise. A sweetness that made her heart swell because it was understanding as well.

  When he finished, he looked at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “You know that it does not matter who provided the seed. ’Tis the people who love you that count, and I think your mother loved you very much.”

  “I was not that sure,” she said. “At least I was not then. Now I know how difficult it is to raise a child on your own with no protection. She could have abandoned me, or left me at a nunnery. Instead, she chose to keep me.”

  “’Tis a fine thing, honor,” he said. “In keeping you, she stayed true to that.”

  Honor. Virtue Mine Honour.

  She knew then she had to tell him about the crest. “Remember when I found you—”

  The words broke off as a flock of birds rose into the sky.

  “Someone might be coming,” she said.

  “We had best return,” he said, his hand back around hers.

  She reluctantly agreed. She had never believed in false modesty, or making herself something she was not. But it would not be good for either of them if they were found this way.

  How long had they been gone? He quickly pulled on his breeches and boots.

  His hair was mussed, and she used her fingers to comb it. Her own was probably a tangle of curls and leaves.

  He pulled her hair back and helped put the cap on. Then they brushed the leaves and earth off each other’s clothes.

  And grinned at each other like two wayward children caught in mischief.

  Tell him. But it was a special moment with sunlight spilling over them, their bodies glowing with lovemaking and their hands intertwined.

  Later.

  They walked back together. They had left that way. It would seem strange if they did not return together.

  Her body hummed, and her heart sang. She chased away the cobwebs of lies. He did care for her. Even possibly loved her. He would understand once she explained. For a few precious seconds, she even believed they could possibly have a future together. Then she shoved that idea away. It was enough to have these moments. She could not be greedy.

  Audra sat primly outside. She jumped up as they approached, looking very much like an excited little girl with a secret.

  “Look what I found, Mather,” Audra said, almost dancing in her excitement.

  “What, love?” Some young animal, she supposed.

  Audra took Kimbra’s hand and led her inside to the table, with the Scot behind her.

  She saw the brooch immediately. ’Twas impossible not to, with the diamonds and rubies. She felt the blood drain from her face.

  “What is it?” the Scot asked.

  Audra pulled away from her and picked up the brooch. “It is so pretty.”

  Kimbra started to grab it, but the Scot reached out first and took it in his hand. It sparkled against his fingers.

  He stared at it as if transfixed.

  She could only stand and watch. It was too late now to snatch it away, or make explanations.

  His hand closed around it, and he sat down. He opened his hand again, and she saw emotions cross his face.

  He recognized it!

  A muscle throbbed in his throat, and he bent his head.

  Then he raised it and looked at Kimbra.

  LACHLAN Maclean felt his emotions tumbling as fast as the images flooding him.

  The Maclean crest. It had been a gift from his brother, Rory, years earlier when he had helped his brother reveal a traitor. He remembered Rory’s face now, and it was that of the man he had fought in the border skirmish.

  He remembered his father. He remembered betraying him.

  He remembered the name of the brown-haired lass that had appeared in his images. Maggie, his brother’s first wife, whom he had loved from afar, as strongly as a young man could.

  Other faces. Rory’s new wife, Felicia, and Jamie Campbell, the first man to completely trust him.

  Where was Jamie now?

  They had been together when the battle started. Dear God, don’t let him be one of the dead. Or Hector, who had taught him, fathered him, protected him, supported him when the other clansmen had called him coward.

  Coward.

  How was it that he lived when so many others died? Had he run away again?

  Blazes, but he could not remember the battle itself. What had happened?

  He fingered the crest again. It was a brooch that made fast the plaid he usually wore.

  Then he looked at Kimbra. She’d had it all this time. It had been the key to who he was. If he had seen it earlier, would he have remembered? Or was it an accumulation of memories that needed one last piece?

  Crushing realization flooded him. She hadn’t intended to show him the crest, even if it aided his memory. Part of him understood why. She had a daughter to feed. But it showed how little she had trusted him, even after these weeks.

  It was probably the only material item that had ever meant anything to him. It had given him back self-respect and a sense of worth after years of being told he was weak and worthless because he did not like, or choose, war.

  A
nd yet in the end he had.

  He looked at Kimbra, who stood absolutely still. Her face was rigid, and he saw misery in her eyes.

  She had saved his life. Not once, but probably twice. He had trusted her completely. She had not trusted him. But then why should she? She knew nothing of him beyond scattered memories. She had reason to distrust nobility.

  Yet he could not deny the rush of disappointment, the sense of failure. He had failed her, just as he had failed others. She had not trusted him to make good his promise to care for her.

  “What is it?” Audra’s small voice broke the silence.

  The Scot looked down at her expectant face and knelt in front of her. “It is a crest, Audra.”

  Audra looked at it again. “Is it yours?”

  “’Tis your mother’s now,” he said.

  “Nay,” Kimbra said in a broken voice. “I will have no more lies. It is his clan crest,” she said.

  “Clan?” Audra looked puzzled. “The Howards?”

  He heard Kimbra’s indrawn breath.

  She stooped. “I said he was a Howard because he had lost his memory and did not know who he was.”

  Realization dawned in Audra’s eyes. “He is a Scot?”

  Kimbra nodded.

  “You lied to me.” Audra’s lips trembled as she made the accusation.

  “Aye,” she said simply, not excusing herself.

  “You said you would never lie to me. A Scot killed my father.” She looked up at Lachlan, obviously torn about how she should feel when she had already given him part of her heart.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “You lied to me, too,” she said to him, tears forming in her eyes, then she turned toward the door, which had been left partly opened, and ran out.

  Kimbra ran after her. He stayed, the brooch still in his hand. He thought about going after them, but feared he would do more damage. He’d never wanted to hurt Audra. God knew he would give his life for her.

  And her mother.

  Audra would forgive her mother. Children did that. He did not know if he could. Not because he was any better that she. He had certainly told a fair number of lies to the Charlton. But because he’d thought she had come to love him as he loved her. If she had, she would have trusted him enough to show him the brooch. She would have known that he would protect her and her daughter.

  But she had preferred the brooch. And safety, and had allowed him to wonder who and what he was.

  Rory would be near mad with guilt. He knew his brother and how much he’d suffered from too many losses already, all of which he took on his shoulders. He would blame himself for allowing Lachlan to go in his stead, regardless of how much Lachlan had wanted to go. One more test for himself.

  He had almost killed his brother days ago. Or his brother could have killed him and been doubly damned in his eyes.

  Likewise, Lachlan—his name was Lachlan—could never forgive himself if the challenge had gone the opposite way.

  He closed his eyes and thanked God that something had stayed his hand.

  He looked out the window to see Kimbra running toward him, her face panicked.

  “I cannot find her,” she said.

  “You were right behind her.”

  “She reached the woods before me and just disappeared.” She looked frantic. “I have never seen her this upset.”

  “Mayhap she is in the stable.”

  She ran toward the stable, calling for Geordie, and he followed. No one was there. She turned to him. “He said he was going to sleep.”

  Her face was frozen with fear. He remembered then what she’d said earlier. Geordie had mentioned suspicions about him. He remembered the flock of birds. Had he been listening and left in a hurry? Exactly what had they said?

  But that meant nothing right now. What was important was a child who felt betrayed.

  Together they started for the woods. Audra could not have gone far. Best to find her now.

  “You go to the left, I will go toward the right,” he told her. “Stop and listen. She will probably make noise.”

  She could not have gone far. He kept telling himself that as he plunged into the woods.

  Chapter 21

  AFTER what seemed like hours combing the woods, Kimbra knew fear such as she’d never known before. She thought she had known its every form. Fear of death. Fear of her mother being discovered. Fear of hunger. But nothing was like the terror that wrapped around her heart now.

  She had never seen Audra as she was today, had never seen her face dissolve as it had earlier.

  Above it had been the Scot’s face as he’d realized she’d lied to him from the beginning, that she had never been more than a thief. There was no anger, only disappointment, which was a deeper cut.

  But that mattered little at the moment as she ran through the woods, calling Audra’s name. She heard the Scot’s voice as well.

  Dusk had turned into night.

  Bear. They should have fetched the dog. But she thought she would find her daughter quickly. But there was no child, nor a sound.

  She did not know how long it was before she met up with the Scot. He had to have moved quickly despite his limp. His face was creased with worry.

  “I will return for Magnus,” he said. “And Bear. We can cover more ground that way.”

  She looked up at the darkening sky. “She is so little.”

  “We will find her,” he said.

  “You said there were wolf tracks.” She could not hold back the fear.

  “We will find her,” he repeated.

  “I . . . did not mean to lie to her.” She felt her heart sag more with every word. She had been so intent on protecting Audra that she failed to give her what a child needs most.

  “We should go back and get torches,” he said.

  “You go,” she said. “There is a full moon tonight. I know these woods. I will continue looking.”

  He looked reluctant.

  “Go. Please. Hurry.”

  He nodded. “Do not go far from here.”

  He was gone before she could say anything. If there was anything to say.

  She started moving again, calling out her daughter’s name, then listening.

  She started at even the slightest rustle of brush, the soft breeze that blew through the woods. “Audra!” she called. “Audra!”

  But there was no answer, and she wondered whether her daughter—when found—would ever answer again.

  “Audra!” she called again, this time raising her voice. The only answer was a scolding magpie. Almost blinded by tears, she stumbled past the waterfall and into the dense woods.

  LACHLAN moved as quickly as he could back to the cottage and saddled Magnus. Then he rode off to the path Timothy was guarding. He found them quickly enough. Bear barked until he discovered it was a friend. Timothy looked at him cautiously.

  “Audra is missing. Kimbra is looking for her, but we need help. And torches.”

  Timothy did not waste time asking questions. He mounted his horse and rode side by side with him, asking questions.

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Several hours now.”

  “And Geordie? Is he looking for her?”

  “We cannot find him. Mayhap he went back to the tower. Kimbra thought Bear could trail Audra.”

  “Aye, he will find her.”

  They rode hard back to the cottage, Bear lumbering along behind them. When they reached the cottage, Lachlan dismounted and went inside. He gathered several torches and lit them from embers in the fireplace. They might need them this night.

  When he returned, he gave both to Timothy. He leaned down and touched the dog. “Find Audra, Bear. Find Audra.”

  He prayed that the big dog understood. He had understood when Lachlan had fallen in the woods, and had fetched Kimbra for him. Surely he would understand now.

  Bear looked up at him, puzzled.

  “Find Audra,” he tried again.

  Bear went to the door of
the cottage and pushed against it, then returned and wagged his tail.

  “No, Bear,” Lachlan said. “She is not there. She needs you,” Lachlan said. “Find her.”

  Bear barked as if finally understanding. He turned and ran toward the woods.

  Lachlan mounted and took one of the torches from Timothy. The air had cooled, and clouds were thickening and moving across the sky, blotting out the moon.

  The dog moved ahead, sniffing the ground, looking behind occasionally, apparently to make sure Lachlan was still there. Bear did not stay on the paths, and Lachlan and Timothy fought through underbrush as they struggled to keep up.

  Both of them called out Audra’s name. Lachlan felt the icy fingers of fear along his spine. He should have realized that Audra might equate him with her father’s death. She had most likely been taught that Scots were demons without honor, just as he had been taught that about the Campbells so many years ago. The Campbells had been enemies then, not the English.

  But he understood how strong hate could be when taught young. Even a lass as young as Audra knew it.

  They had been searching an hour or more on horseback. She’d been gone more than four hours. The night was black, and Audra was probably terrified. Mayhap Kimbra had already found her. He prayed she had.

  God help him, he should not have left Kimbra alone. Yet he’d understood her need to continue looking for Audra, and she knew these woods as he did not.

  Bear ran ahead, and he lost sight of the beast. Then there was a sharp bark. Another.

  A scream. A woman’s scream.

  He dug his heels into Magnus and disregarded the branches that cut through his shirt. He moved toward the sound. The bark turned into a growl.

  Sharp yelps. He had no weapons with him, but then he heard another scream and spurred his horse forward.

  The sound of animals fighting became louder. The snarls were sharp and angry. Lachlan pushed the nervous horse forward, then stopped as his torch revealed Kimbra backed against a tree, a long stick in her hand as Bear battled two wolves. ’Twas obvious Bear was getting the worse of it.

  “Help him,” Kimbra pleaded.

  Lachlan shouted, a bloodcurdling sound, and threw his torch at one of the wolves, which yelped, then turned toward him.

  “Take this.” Timothy thrust a dagger into his hands, as he, too, sought to distract the animals with his torch.