Authors: Patricia Potter

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Scottish

Beloved Stranger (17 page)

BOOK: Beloved Stranger

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Then Audra burst in with the lute. “Will you teach me to play?”

“Aye,” he said, though not sure he was much of a music teacher. Still, with the large gray eyes on him, he could refuse her nothing.

He took the lute from her and ran his finger over the strings.

“Stroke it . . . lightly,” he said. He had almost said something else.
Stroke it like a lover.

The word
lover
conjured other images. The kiss he’d exchanged with Audra’s mother, the internal heat he felt when she entered the room.

A lute was a thing, and yet he’d obviously once thought about it as a friend, even a lover.

“Can I try it?” Audra asked.

He showed her how each string had its own sound and how to hold her fingers as she strummed them. She was amazingly quick in finding chords.

He would remember her this way, her small hands running over the strings, a bright smile in her eyes as well as on her lips.

Kimbra called. Audra regretfully placed the lute back into his hands. “Please do not go,” she pleaded.

Going was the last thing he wanted to do and the one thing he must do. Would he find his way back? Could he find his way back?

“You best go to your mother.”

She went to the door, then looked back. “I want to show you our waterfall before you go. It’s our special place.”

Her mother had mentioned a pool as well. “Where is it?”

“Not far. You can ride Magnus, and Mater and I can walk.”

His common sense told him no. His feelings were already raw. Yet as he looked at her he could not deny her anything. “If your mother agrees.”

She beamed at him, then ran out of the room.

He went to the window. Still clad in her widow’s dress, Kimbra Charlton knelt in her herb garden, carefully cutting leaves and placing them in a basket next to her. She wore no cap this morning, and her long dark hair was braided as usual. As she worked, she occasionally brushed a strand from her face. There was a grace about her that beguiled him.

Kimbra looked up as her daughter skipped toward her. Her face lit with joy as she reached out her arms for her. Bear had bounded out behind Audra and now sat with a huge canine grin alongside his two favorite people.

How he longed to be a part of that small circle.

She had offered him one of her most precious possessions. He had watched her with the horse.
Hobbler.
He had to remember that. It had been an expression unfamiliar to him.

He continued to watch as the mother and daughter held hands and started back, Kimbra swinging her basket of herbs. He captured the image in his mind, knowing it was one he would not forget.

Where were the other images that should be there?

The door opened, and the two came into his room.

“Audra wants to show you the pool,” Kimbra said. “Are you strong enough?”

“Aye.” He paused. “I am grateful for all you have done. I will not forget it.”

He saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes. He realized she thought it only a convenient promise. He wished he could let her know it was far more than that. He would die before betraying her trust.

H
E was a horseman.

Kimbra knew that instantly. Because of his injury, he used her mounting block. Still, once he got himself into the saddle, he sat the horse well.

He leaned down and awkwardly brought Audra into the saddle with him. Then he looked at her.

“I prefer to walk. It’s easier carrying this,” she said, holding up the lute Audra had begged her to bring along. The better to avoid touching him, feeling his body against hers, hearing his heart beat. Better not to have those eruptions of flame in every part of her.

He had gentle hands on the reins. He guided by body weight, not by force, and Magnus, often contrary, responded to him.

She had been reluctant at first to bring him to the pool, fed by a tumbling waterfall. What if Cedric came? Or Thomas Charlton? She was already forming reasons in her mind.

But, according to Jane, Cedric was chasing phantom Scots, even as one was in reach. As for Thomas Charlton, she could explain she was trying to see whether the wounded Howard could ride well enough to reach the peel tower.

’Twasn’t a great excuse, but she could think of none better.

And she wanted this afternoon for Audra. And for herself.

The pool was not much more than a brisk walk for her. The sun was bright, the sky clear, and the breeze warm rather than cool. Bear walked next to her until he caught a scent and chased after a rabbit. He would return, empty mouthed and panting heavily.

She gave her Scot directions, and the walk went entirely too fast. She enjoyed watching him bend his head to talk to her daughter. She felt part of a family again, even for these few hours.

The pool was sun-kissed, the blue sprinkled with gold.

The Scot lowered her daughter to the ground, then swung his leg around and slid carefully to his feet. He stood unsteadily for a moment. She realized then he hadn’t brought the crutch with him. She went to his side.

“Lean on me,” she said.

He put his arm around her, and they walked together to a rock where he sat.

Her hand found its way into his, while Audra played with Bear. His hand tightened around hers.

“Have you remembered more?” she asked.

She saw the answer in his eyes.

“A woman?” she persisted.

He turned to her. “Aye. Brown hair and brown eyes. I also remember screams. I do not think she still lives.”

“A place?” she said, changing a subject that was painful.

“Nay. The sea, sometimes. I have been to sea.”

“A tower?” she probed, recalling the crest.

He shook his head.

“Nothing of the battle?”

“Not from what you have told me of Flodden. Another, I think. I . . .”

She waited for him to continue.

“Someone died. Someone close to me. I think it was my fault. I see myself kneeling before him.” When he looked at her, his eyes were full of turmoil, even agony.

Her fingers tightened around his. She would not ask any more questions. If only she could read. If only she knew what the words on the crest meant.

Tell him about it. The words might mean something to him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked suddenly. “You look so somber.”

“’Tis nothing. Just that Audra will miss you.”

“And you?”

Terribly.
But she was not going to admit it.

Audra ran over just then. “I want to do the letters,” she said.

“Have you been practicing?” he asked.

“Aye,” Audra said. “I know them all.”

“Kimbra?”

She nodded.

Kimbra hesitated on only one letter. Audra missed three.

He took up the lute and started singing the letters to a simple tune, then gave the lute to Audra. “You try it.”

She had a few false notes, then found them, and sang the “letter song.” This time she had them all right.

When she finished, he used a branch to make some words. He started with
dog,
then went to
Kimbra
and
Audra.

“You can leave them in the earth,” he said. “Mayhap they will be here the next time you come.”

She thought he was right. The English had taken most of the game who watered here. She looked at the letters. She and Audra would come often.

A
LL too soon it was time to go. There was Bess and the chickens to attend to, and it was especially important not overtiring him. “We should return.”

Disappointment flickered in his eyes. “Aye, I have enjoyed it too much. But I will not forget you, lass.”

“You probably have a wife and seven children at home,” she said. “You will find them. Go to Edinburgh. Someone will recognize you.”

His gaze met hers, held it. “I will find a way to reward you.”

That had been so important to her several weeks ago. Now she did not want a reward. She felt low and unworthy for keeping the crest from him. She wanted nothing else.

Liar!

She wanted a great deal, but none of it was within reach. None of it was possible.

“Audra,” she called. “It is time to return.”

She avoided the Scot’s gaze.

“It is a bonny place,” he said.

“Do not use that word,” she said sharply, far more sharply than she intended. “It is not common here.”

This time she could not avoid his gaze. It caught hers and held. She had not the power to tear away. ’Twas as if he reached into her soul and saw what she’d tried to conceal. He reached up and touched a strand of her hair.

“But
bonny
fits so well,” he said. “You, as well as the waterfall.”

Transfixed, she was unable to move. She felt caught in time, in the magic of his eyes, in the connection that was like bonds linking them together. Heat pulsed between them, and her heart sped.

She stood, stepped back, almost stumbled on legs that didn’t want to hold her. Then she straightened.

He stood awkwardly. “You are right to run,” he said softly. “I have nothing to offer.”

He had everything to offer. It was she who had nothing.

She tried to clear her mind, and her heart, though neither cooperated. She walked over to fetch Magnus who had been feeding on grass. She led the horse over to the Scot.

She watched as he mounted and helped Audra up. She walked by his side. The sun had lost its glow, and clouds had appeared. She tried not to think that tomorrow both the Scot and Magnus would be gone.

They had almost reached the cottage, when Bear barked and raced ahead.

A heaviness clogged her throat as she saw six riders and a riderless horse in front of the cottage. She searched for Cedric, but thank God he was not among them.

Another man she recognized as one of Will’s friends rode toward her. He touched his forehead in respect to her, then gazed at the Scot.

“Thomas Charlton has sent us to bring ye to the tower,” he said. “We brought a horse. It appears ye are able to ride,” he added wryly. “I was told ye was near death.”

She broke in. “He was going to the tower tomorrow, Richie. We wanted to see whether he could ride yet.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It seems, Kimbra, that he can.”

Then he turned to the Scot. “Ye can ride that horse over there.”

Her heart pounding, she watched the Scot painfully dismount and limp over to the other horse. She ran inside and fetched the crutch. By the time she’d returned he was astride the other horse.

She handed it to him.

“My thanks, again, Mistress Charlton,” he said.

“And you, Miss Audra, keep practicing the lute.”

Then he turned his hobbler and rode off with the others.

Kimbra stood there stunned. She’d known this moment was coming. Had thought it would be tomorrow.

But then she had hoped he would be free. Now he was in deadly peril.

Audra came over and clasped her hand.

Kimbra looked down and saw tears in her daughter’s eyes.

She had to fight to hold back those of her own.

Chapter 12

T
HE peel tower loomed over the marsh.

Robert Howard—he had to think of himself as that now—studied everything carefully as they approached a gray, bleak tower. A large stone wall wrapped around it. A barnekin, he remembered from Kimbra’s lessons.

They went through an iron gate manned by men in the same uniform as he wore: breeches and a rough shirt under a leather doublet. He had not worn Will’s jack on the picnic and had not been given time to take it.

They rode in silence. He was still weak, his chest burned, and his leg ached. The short ride to the pool had wearied him, but this last exertion sapped what remaining strength he had.

He had to keep his wits about him. One error and not only his life would most likely be forfeit but the consequences to Kimbra and her daughter could be as bad or worse.

He had memorized the story. He was a bastard Howard who had been away nearly his entire life before returning just before the battle. That would explain his speech and why Howards knew little of him.

The tower was four floors high, and the formidable entrance a double door. One was an outer iron grating and behind it one of heavy oak reinforced with iron. It would not be easy to breach, especially with windows overhead from which rocks and boiling water could be hefted.

As the riders neared the tower entrance, two young lads ran out and waited as they dismounted. He did it slowly, painfully. His leg buckled under him, and he used the crutch to steady himself. The well-armed Richie watched him carefully, but did not offer to help.

He limped to the door.

The outer grating was open, and, as he approached, the oak door opened as well. A huge man appeared at the door to regard him with suspicious interest. The giant stepped aside to allow him entry. “I am Jock.”

He led Robert Howard and his escort up narrow, winding steps in silence.

Each step might well have been a mountain, but no one offered help. Leaning on the crutch and the inside wall, he took one agonizing step after another, stretching raw muscles. Sweat trickled down his cheek.

They stopped at the second level, and Jock led the way to an open door and again stood aside.

Robert Howard limped inside and faced the chief of the Charltons. He’d feigned unconsciousness when the man had stood over him before, and now he got his first look at the man who would decide his fate, and had Kimbra’s and Audra’s lives in his hands as well.

The Charlton sat heavily in a large chair. “I thought you were a dead man,” the Charlton said. “God must have had a hand in your life.”

“God and Mistress Charlton,” Robert Howard replied. “I thank you for permitting it.”

BOOK: Beloved Stranger

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