Beloved Stranger (28 page)

“The first word is
The
,” he said. “The
t
and the
h
together sound like this.”

He was a patient teacher even though she knew that memories were knocking at his mind. Nonetheless he sounded each word for her, explaining how the sounds fit together to make words. He led her to read the word
thrissill.

She had not heard the word before.

“It is a prickly plant with purple flowers that grows in the Highlands,” he said.

Something else he’d remembered.

Because of the book?

What would he remember if she showed him the crest?

It is too late now. He will no longer trust me if I produce it now.
And the need was gone. He was remembering on his own. He would find his home, while the crest remained her only means to protect her daughter.

The Scot opened the book and started to read.

She listened to the tremor and rhythm of his voice. He obviously loved the words. He made her want to love them as well.

Hours sped by, as he led her word by word, making her sound out each one. Then the letters started running together.

“’Tis enough for tonight,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He seemed to do that entirely too often.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Nay, it was my pleasure.”

She believed him. It was in his voice, in his smile, in the warmth of his eyes. He was a natural teacher.

“We will continue tomorrow,” he said.

“You should go.” How many times had she said that? But she’d never meant it less than at this moment. She knew he should go. But her heart and soul wanted him to stay.

“I will sleep in the stable,” he said. “I will not endanger your reputation further.”

She did not want him to sleep in the stable. She wanted him next to her. She wanted the heat of his body and the comfort of his arms. She wanted so much. Instead, she held out the book to him.

“Nay, it is yours.”

She clutched it in her arms. Next to Audra and Magnus, it was her greatest treasure. More important even than the crest hidden above them.

She could not speak.

He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then straightened. “That, lass, was the most difficult thing I’ve done.”

“Kiss me?” she asked.

“Nay, kissing you so primly when I really want to consume you.” His voice was hoarse with wanting.

She recognized it because she was raging with the same need. But she also knew he was right. They had risked conceiving the other night. The next day she’d realized the reality of that folly. She could barely take care of Audra. What if she were to die in childbirth? What then would happen to her daughter? All those thoughts had plagued her since she left his bed days earlier.

Never trust a noble.
She trusted this man, but could she trust the one emerging from his memories?

As if he understood her inner turmoil, he took a step back.

She gave him one of two candlesticks in the room. His hand went over hers for a moment, and the heat from the flames was nothing compared to the heat that exploded between them. She thought the cottage might erupt with it.

But then he turned and left without another word.

She placed the book on the table. The candle cast shadows over the printed words and the illuminations as she turned pages. One was of a wedding gown. A picture of a man and woman looking at each other. She saw the love in the look.

An illusion? Did nobles and royalty marry for love?

She finally quenched the candle and went into the other room. She undid the laces of her gown and took it off, then, clad in her chemise, lay next to her daughter. She put the book at the end of the bed. She was not going to allow anything to happen to it.

Read.
If he stayed long enough, she would learn to read.

He most certainly would tempt her. Even now her body ached with wanting, with remembrance of the night they had coupled.

She touched Audra’s hair, and her heart shimmered with tenderness.

Her daughter came first. Always.

 
 
H
E 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.

K
IMBRA 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?”

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.”