Free Beloved Stranger by PATRICIA POTTER Page A

his hands. He strummed again, his hands fingering the strings with surety.
    What else did he know?
     
 
K IMBRA put Audra down on the thick skins near the fire, then made bread for the next day. She heard the sounds of the lute through the door, and her heart ached at the beauty of the notes. He was accomplished with the instrument, as much so as many minstrels who came by the peel tower to tell their tales and sing their songs.
    She did not know if such a talent was unusual in a man of rank. She only knew there was something about the melody that made her heart ache with longing.
    Bear barked outside, and she looked out the window, praying it was not Cedric. She had thanked God every day he did not appear.
    Jane was walking stiffly up to the cottage, leaning heavily on a cane.
    Guilt ran through Kimbra. She should have checked on her friend and renewed her supply of bay leaves. She’d promised. She quickly went to the door to the room where the Scot was abed. He was still holding the lute, his fingers touching the strings.
    “I have a visitor,” she said. “You must be quiet.”
    He nodded.
    She left the room, closing the door behind her, then went to the front door and opened it. Again she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
    “Jane, what brings you here?”
    “I feared something must have happened. I have not seen ye.”
    “Nay, I just needed some rest.”
    “They should not have made ye go to the battlefield.”
    “Many went,” Kimbra replied. “And I was able to keep a ring.”
    “You should be able to keep much more. Will would be turning over in the ground if he knew how they were treating ye.”
    “I have to do my share. Just as Will did.”
    “Yer Will worked hard for this place. For ye. Thomas Charlton should respect that instead of selling—” She stopped suddenly.
    “What have you heard?” Kimbra asked.
    “Cedric and several others are fighting to wed ye.”
    “He was here three days ago. I feared he would return, but he has not.”
    “He is gone. He and others have gone after the few Scots who survived.”
    “How many lived?”
    “I do not know, but there is a bounty for Scots. They are picking up occasional stragglers and turning them over to the crown, which is executing them.”
    Horrified, Kimbra could only stare at her. “But there could be ransoms.”
    “I hear a few have taken highborn Scots for ransom, but the Charlton wants to appease the warden. There have been accusations that the Charltons did not do their fair share in the battle. He would not risk disobeying now.”
    Kimbra did not doubt that at all. The Charltons were brave enough when enriching themselves, but they saw little reason to risk life and horse for the English king.
    Kimbra knew the Charlton family was ruthless, that they had little regard for life. She suspected they killed some of the wounded in the aftermath of the great battle. She would have suspected it of Cedric readily enough, but not of Thomas Charlton, who talked much about the honor of the borderers.
    Her stomach sinking, Kimbra invited Jane inside, knowing not to do so would raise suspicions, all the time wondering how much longer she could keep the Scot’s presence a secret. She might well need help. Could Jane provide it?
    Jane glanced down at Audra sleeping on the hearth. “Ye must tell her I came to see her.”
    “I will,” Kimbra said, then offered some ale and fresh bread she’d just baked, along with butter she’d churned.
    “Do you know when the men will return?”
    Jane shook her head.
    “Is the Charlton at the peel tower?”
    “Aye, ’tis getting more and more difficult for him to ride.”
    “I may need to see him.”
    “Take him some of your bay leaves.”
    “He has his own physician.”
    “He is not helping, by all I hear.”
    Kimbra considered the words. Perhaps that would be a way to approach Thomas Charlton, the head of the family. He held no official rank. He was no baron or earl or duke. But he ruled the