Beloved Stranger (32 page)

Lachlan had no choice but to go out the door, all the time the Charlton’s words following him.
Kimbra must wed.

He remembered the stricken look on her face when he’d spied the crest. There had been no doubt then that she had taken it and had meant to keep it. But ’twas a small enough price for his life.

The room was as he had left it. Stark and lonely. The door closed on him, and he heard a key twist in the lock.

The Charlton indicated he would ransom him. Lachlan intended to demand that Kimbra and Audra be part of any bargain.

He still felt a stab of disappointment on learning about the brooch, that she had kept it a secret from him. Yet he knew desperation. Had felt it to the marrow of his bones. He knew she feared a marriage. She had been protecting herself and her daughter in the only way she knew. Who was he to say that was wrong?

The day went slowly. He looked out the window slit. He saw riders but no young woman with a child. Nor a great, lumbering dog. He prayed that Bear would survive. Audra loved him so.

He tried to remember everything, but too many memories were bittersweet. He could not remember truly being happy until he’d met Kimbra. It was odd that being without memory could make one happy.

Would the Charlton find his brother? Could Rory pay the ransom? He was only too aware that they were short of assets after the purchase of a new ship.

And how did Kimbra fare? Despite the Charlton’s assertion he did not make war on women, he knew others within the tower had no such scruples.

He started pacing.

 
 
A Maclean. It still seemed impossible. She’d always thought him a noble, and yet the reality stunned her. He came from one of the most notorious families in Scotland.

No wonder he seemed to do everything so effortlessly. He must have had years of training. Years of education.

She had none of the latter. She knew letters now. A few words. But she was far from being able to read a book, or a document. She was a thief who had not only stolen his goods, but also kept his memory from him.

Biting her lip to keep from uttering a cry of despair, she glanced down at Audra, who lay on a bearskin next to Bear, her arms around the dog’s neck. Both were asleep, but she wondered whether she would ever sleep peacefully again.

The Charlton would be furious. Her Scot’s life could well be forfeit. And if he survived, he would not trust her again.

If the Charlton forced her to wed, or banished her, she had only the gold ring to keep her daughter safe. And that, she feared, was not worth much here. That and Magnus.

Magnus.
She bit her lip as she thought of selling him.

For her life. Nay, Audra’s life as well.

She looked down at her hands. They were clenched together. And cold. So very cold.

She had wagered and lost.

Her Scot was in mortal danger.

Her own future was questionable. That made Audra’s questionable as well.

By lying she’d lost everyone’s trust, including Audra’s.

But she feared the greatest price for her folly would be exacted from the Scot.

 
 
C
EDRIC had watched with growing fury when Kimbra and the Scot were brought in.

For weeks, he’d suspected the man was not what he seemed. He had tried to convince the Charlton. Now Geordie would receive a reward instead of himself.

And Kimbra?

The Charlton had made it known lately that he would not give Kimbra to him, because Kimbra was against the match. A woman should have no say.

The decision had spurred his own pursuit of riches. He had deserved Kimbra. By the devil, he wanted her. He had to have her. Or, if not, make sure no one else had her.

Her rejection made his lust even greater. He wanted to teach her who was master. He wanted her to cringe under him.

And so once he learned of the raid, he had ridden to the Armstrongs while he was to be looking for escaped Scots. And he had made the devil’s own bargain.

His life would be forfeit if his treachery was discovered. He also knew the Armstrongs would sell that information for a piece of gold if they thought him of no further use. He had to leave, but he was not going to leave alone.

He kept close to Jock. He was within hearing distance when Jock dispatched two men to take a message to Rory Maclean at the Armstrongs.

Maclean. So the Scot was a Maclean. Apparently the Charlton was going to defy the king and ask for ransom.

Cedric weighed his options. He could ride hard to the retreating English and report the Scot. But then he may not receive a monetary reward, and all the Charltons would learn of his perfidy. He would never be able to return.

The second option was to take the place of the messengers and take the ransom. It would be a handsome one, given the fact that Maclean was a powerful family. His brother Garrick would help.

He opted for the last. He and Garrick would kill the guards, deliver the note, then take the money to ransom the Maclean. When the money was not paid, the Charlton would be forced to turn over the Scot to the English. The family would demand it.

He would be wealthy. Kimbra and her daughter would be alone. He could hire men to take them.

The more he considered the plan, the more he applauded his own intelligence. The Macleans would have to give him the money because after their own ambush days ago they would fear retaliation by the Charltons.

Satisfied with himself and his plans, he found his brother, explained the plan. Garrick, as always, readily agreed.

He hurried to his chamber and retrieved his weapons. His bow, pike, and dagger. Then he hurried out to the stable.

He told the stable lad they were going hunting, not unusual, since both of them were expert with a bow and arrow and were among the family’s best hunters. He knew the perfect place to ambush the two messengers, both trusted lieutenants of the Charlton.

They rode hard to a pass that linked England to Scotland. It was but one of many raiding routes. It was also the shortest. And less used for that specific reason. Raids required more secrecy and surprise. But surprise was not required on this mission, and the direct route was likely.

They found a place atop the pass. It was still English land, and the two Charltons would not be as wary as they would be once across the border.

He tied up his horse and took a position among the gorse and stretched out alongside his brother. His bow was in his hands, several arrows at his side.

No one was better with a bow than he, not even Garrick.

Two arrows should take them down. Then if they were not dead, he would kill them.

The Armstrongs would be blamed.

He smiled to himself as he waited.

 
“Are you sure?” Felicia Campbell Maclean asked.

“Aye,” Janet Campbell replied. “And it is not as if you do not have enough help here.” She grinned happily. “It will give me good experience when my own bairn comes.”

Janet had appeared at Inverleith in the afternoon with a message from her husband. She had blushed when reading it. Or at least a part of it.

“He is well and he says they cannot find Lachlan’s body, but that someone had seen the crest he wore. Someone knows something about him. They still hope to find him alive.”

“I want to go,” Felicia had said. “But the children . . .”

Janet’s eyes had brightened. “I can stay with them. I would love it.”

Anticipation bubbled up inside Felicia. She had been going mad not knowing about Lachlan. He had been her first friend here at Inverleith when she’d been kidnapped and feared the worst. He had been her comfort then, and later her protector. He’d almost died to see that she and Rory could wed and end the century-long feud between the Campbells and Macleans. He was as dear to her as her husband and children.

She’d felt guilty every moment she’d sat here while Rory and Jamie were trying to find both Lachlan and Hector. She wanted to be with them. She might be able to go places they could not. She had played the role of spy before.

She went into the nursery. She went to little Patrick first. He was two now and was waking up from a nap. He held out his hands to be picked up.

She hugged him for a long time, then sat down next to him on the small bed. “I love you,” she said. “I have to go away for a little while.”

“Go?”

“Aye, but no’ for long.”

His dark eyes, so much like Rory’s, had the same inquisitive look. She was not sure how much he understood.

“Pater?” he asked.

“He will be home soon.”

Patrick gave her a wide grin. He worshiped his father as much as his father doted on him.

“Be a good lad,” she said.

“A’ways good lad,” he said.

“Aye, you are. Take good care of your sister.”

Another huge smile.

She gave him a big kiss and went to the cradle where Maggie was sleeping. She leaned down and touched her face. She was a beautiful baby with her red hair and green eyes. And a joy. Where Patrick had often been restless and fretful, Maggie slept and ate and smiled.

She had a wet nurse because Felicia did not have enough milk. Maggie would be fine for a few days.

She had never left them before. Not either of them.

Second thoughts assailed her. Would she be doing the right thing?

Then she thought of all the risks Lachlan had taken on her behalf. Rory had taken some money, but mayhap more would be needed. She would take her jewels. The Maclean jewels. It would be an excuse to give Rory, anyway.

Her husband would not be pleased.

She kissed Maggie, then turned to Janet who was standing in the door, a smile on her face. Her friend had so wanted to be a mother, but two years had passed without conceiving. Now she glowed with the knowledge she would be a mother.

In another hour Felicia was ready. Duncan, who captained the guard, had prepared an escort of four to go with her. She had protested at first, then realized the jewels were too valuable not to have a guard. The journey, she judged, would take two and a half days if they rode hard.

“Go to the Armstrongs,” Duncan said. “Rory should be there.” He looked up at her. “Are ye sure ye want to go? They may be on their way back.”

“And they may not,” she retorted.

Duncan merely nodded. They’d engaged in battles of will since he had been involved in her kidnapping years ago.

She tied her bundle to her horse. It included a second gown as well as a lad’s clothing. The gown she wore now was a simple one that would not attract attention. Over it she wore a plain cloak.

She urged the horse ahead. She’d expected to feel the smallest bit of exhilaration. She didn’t. She missed the children from the moment she left the courtyard.

Felicia gathered the cloak around her. The jewels were sewn into its hem. Pray God they would help.

Pray God Lachlan still lived.

 
The Border

Kimbra nursed Bear and sang to Audra. Her daughter wanted to go to the Scot. She wanted to, as well, but she could not say that to her daughter. Instead, she prayed that the Charlton remembered Lachlan had saved his life.

“He is not bad, is he?”

“Nay,” she said.

“But a Scot killed my father.”

“Your father killed Scots as well,” she tried to explain. “And it was not the Maclean that shot that arrow.”

Audra’s eyes cleared, then hurried on to another question. “Does he have children?”

“I do not know. He did not, either. He could not remember.”

“How can that be?”

“He was hurt very badly.”

“I am sorry for what I said.”

“I do not think he blames you.”

“Can I see him?”

“I will have to ask the Charlton.”

“Will you?” Audra’s eyes were pleading.

“Aye.”

A knock came at the door, then it opened.

Jock stood there. “The Charlton wishes to see ye.”

She leaned down and kissed Audra. “Take care of Bear. I will be back soon.” She hoped she could fulfill that promise.

She followed him to the Charlton’s room.

Once inside, she stood silent as Thomas Charlton speared her with his eyes. “Did ye know he was a Scot?”

She had considered the answer to the question she knew was coming. She had heard the Scot’s explanation. She had her daughter to protect. Yet she found she could not lie. There had already been too many lies. “Aye,” she said softly.

“Then he lied to me again.”

“He wants to protect me. Surely there is honor in that.”

“You lied to me before.”

“I did not know who he was. He had a head wound. He remembered nothing. ’Twas my fault that he was at the cottage.”

“Why did ye take him? Ye must have heard all Scots were to be killed.”

“I thought at first of ransom.” She took a deep breath. “I feared you would force me to marry Cedric. Or someone else. Mayhap if I brought you a prize . . .”

“But ye did not bring him to me.”

“Nay. After I cared for him, I heard that there were to be no ransoms. I did not want him to die.”

He looked at her sharply. “Ye love him?”

“Do I have the right to love someone of my choosing?”

The Charlton breathed heavily for a moment, then said, “Ye remind me too much of my first wife. Outspoken and stubborn.” There was a softness in his voice, though.

“Will ye let him live?”

“If a fat ransom is paid,” he replied. “I do not want a rebellion of my family, and rebel they will, if we get nothing for our trouble.”

She did not remind him that it had been mostly her trouble. “Did he say whether someone would pay one?”

“He is the brother of the Maclean laird. I suspect a ransom will be paid. Someone has been seeking information about a Lachlan Maclean.”