He could barely breathe at the thought.
He walked over to her. She was still, her face paralyzed with fear.
Lachlan looked upward and saw Audra, who was clutching a branch. He raised his arms for her to fall into, but she did not move.
“Come to me,” he said softly.
Audra hesitated, then fell into his arms. He held her for a moment, then set her down. Kimbra hugged her for a very long time, until Audra started to wriggle. Then Kimbra hurried over to Bear and inspected his wounds.
“Brave dog,” she crooned. “We will get you home.”
Then she looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded. He still hadn’t repaid the debt. She’d saved his life twice. “There is no need for thanks. ’Tis the least I could do—” He stopped when he saw how rigid she was.
He started to hold out his arms to her, but she turned away.
Rebuffed, he lowered his arms. “You and Audra can ride with Timothy on Magnus. I will take Bear on Timothy’s horse.”
She nodded stiffly.
In minutes, he had taken the blanket from under the saddle and wrapped it around Bear. When he looked back at Kimbra, she was on her knees and her head rested on her daughter’s. It was such a tender scene, heartbreaking in its impact, that he had to look away.
He mounted. Timothy lifted the dog up to him, and Lachlan settled him across the front of the saddle. He watched as Timothy helped Kimbra into the saddle, then Audra before leading the horse on foot.
Lachlan followed. Timothy and Kimbra knew this land far better than he. But the scene of mother and daughter remained in his head. Just as the brooch seemed to burn a hole in his soul.
Chapter 22
I
T was still dark when they arrived back at the cottage. To Kimbra’s dismay, the area was filled with horses and riders.
Kimbra saw Geordie among them. Her heart dropped. She turned in the saddle to wave off the Scot, but he’d already seen them.
She saw him grip Bear tighter and ride ahead.
He knew what was going to happen, and he was not going to try to escape.
Then she wondered, why had she thought otherwise? There was nothing of fear in him, nor dishonor, nor cowardice. She, on the other hand, had all three.
Jock strode over to meet them. He took the bridle of the horse the Scot rode.
“The Charlton wants to see ye,” he said.
Lachlan nodded. “The dog was wounded by wolves while trying to protect Kimbra and Audra,” he said. “Kimbra needs to care for him.”
Jock glanced at the dog. “The Charlton wants Kimbra as well. The dog can go with us.” His voice was hard.
“He is bleeding,” the Scot said. “At least allow Kimbra to tend to him before going on.”
Jock looked undecided, then nodded reluctantly.
Two of the Charltons lifted the dog down, and Bear slunk to the ground. His fur was matted with blood, and now, so were Lachlan’s clothes.
Kimbra dismounted, then went over to Bear, who whined softly.
“It will be all right,” she crooned, hoping with all her heart she was right. For all of them.
She looked up to see the Scot dismount. He was immediately surrounded by three Charltons.
“Tie him,” Jock said.
“I am not going anywhere,” her Scot replied.
“Nay, ye are not.”
Two Charltons pulled his arms behind him and tied them with rope.
“Who are ye?” Jock asked, his voice hard. “No Howard, I wager.”
“Nay, though I did not know until just recently who I was. I lost all memory after the battle.”
Jock snorted. “A tall tale.” He stopped, then added curiously, “Ye said ye did not know until recently. How recently? And who are ye?”
“Maclean. Lachlan Maclean.”
Maclean.
The name stunned Kimbra, even as she sent Audra for water, needle and thread, and some pieces of cloth. She could not help but stare at him. Her Scot was a Maclean, yet she could not bring herself to call him that. She had heard the name mentioned occasionally. The Macleans were a seafaring family that was not above engaging in a bit of smuggling with the borderers. It was also one of the most important clans in Scotland.
Bear struggled to rise, and she put a restraining hand on him. “No,” she said gently, just as Audra returned with the water and cloth and her sewing needle.
She blocked out the Scot then, and everyone else. Some of the wounds were deep. She turned to Audra. “Fetch some aloe,” she said. In a very short time, Audra had returned with a bottle and helped Kimbra pour it into the wounds.
She looked up. “I have to sew the wounds. Someone has to hold him down.”
Timothy stepped up. “I will do it, Kimbra.”
She looked up and nodded. “Thank you.”
He kneeled next to her and held the dog as she carefully sewed his wounds. He whimpered once, then was silent.
“Good Bear,” she whispered when she tied the last knot. Then she looked up. “Can we use the litter in the stable for him?”
“Aye,” Jock said, but she saw the hardness in his eyes before he turned back to the Scot, to the Maclean. Then his gaze went back to Audra.
“She did not know who I am,” the Scot said. “She could not. I did not know myself.”
“She knows ye are not English.”
“Nay,” the Scot said in a voice that reached her. “I took the clothes of a dead man when I saw the English kill the Scottish wounded and managed to crawl away. She thought I was English. I heard the name of Howard mentioned on the battlefield. I couldn’t remember my own and took that instead.”
“Geordie heard something else.”
The Scot shrugged. “I do not know what he heard, or thought he heard.”
“Were ye the one who warned the Armstrongs?”
“When would I have had a chance to do that?” he said. “I did not even know who the Armstrongs were then.”
“So ye say,” he replied, his eyes full of doubt.
Jock stalked away and neared Kimbra. “What did ye know, Kimbra?”
“That he was someone who needed help,” she said sharply. “Just as those Charltons I’ve tried to help.”
“The Charlton will want answers. So will the others.”
She looked over at Geordie. He turned away. She felt a terrible sense of betrayal.
She stood. “I will get the litter. I do not think Bear can walk the distance.”
“Nay, I will do it,” Timothy said. “Ye stay here with the young lass.”
Audra’s hand crept into Kimbra’s. Her daughter’s eyes fastened on the Scot. “I did not mean what I said to him,” she said, and tears glistened again in her eyes.
“I know.”
Then Timothy was back. He and another man placed Bear on it and tied him there.
Jock helped her mount Magnus, then helped Audra up in front of her.
She watched as they boosted the Scot onto a horse, his hands still tied behind him.
His back was straight, though, and his head proud.
There was no fear there.
She remembered the words he’d uttered minutes ago.
She thought I was English.
He was protecting her yet.
For Audra’s sake, she had to remember everything he’d said.
L
ACHLAN sat straight in the saddle as a Charlton led his horse. He tried not to glance at Kimbra, but his eyes were drawn to her. He’d wanted to go to her when she’d tended Bear. He should have been the one holding Bear. And Audra shouldn’t bear the guilt that was his. He’d been so mesmerized by the crest that he hadn’t considered anyone else. Not when the memories started tumbling out.
He thought about them now. He knew that his life might well be forfeit. But he would die as a Maclean. He worried more about Kimbra and what would happen to her.
Strange, though, how easily he had fitted as an English borderer. He had liked the Charlton and many of his clan.
He loved one in particular.
The brooch meant nothing now. He’d been startled, both by the sight of it and the memories it had awakened. But when he looked at her, his heart ached with tenderness as he’d watched her minister to Bear with the same gentleness she’d shown when she tended him.
“Ye say ye are a Maclean?” Jock maneuvered his horse close to his.
“Aye.”
“Ye were with the Scottish king?”
“I think so . . . aye.” He remembered riding next to the king. He did not remember anything after that. He was still assimilating the memories. The process had been interrupted by Audra’s disappearance, but returned on the ride back from the woods. He was Lachlan Maclean. He had two brothers. No wife. The brown-haired lass . . . she had been his brother’s first wife, with whom he’d been secretly in love. But now he knew it hadn’t been love at all, but affection for the first person who had thought he had value.
Then he’d proved he did not.
He was not going to deny now what he was. He could only try to keep Kimbra from suffering for helping him.
“What do ye mean,
think?
”
“I remember riding next to him . . . then . . . it is blank until I woke up on the battlefield.”
“Do ye hold title?”
“Nay. I am a younger brother.”
“But the Macleans would pay a handsome ransom?”
Not to die?
“I believe so. I thought King Henry . . .”
“He wants Scots dead.” Jock shrugged. “He does not want to fight them again. I do not know what the Charlton wishes to do with ye. He was in a towering fury when I left. He does not like being taken for a fool.”
“He is no fool. I truly did not know who I was.”
“But ye knew ye were no Howard.”
“I suspected as much,” he said and saw Jock’s lips turn up slightly.
Lachlan was silent. He had been warned by the Charlton. And he had lied, and lied some more.
Jock rode ahead, and Lachlan was left with memories that splashed across his consciousness. The castle at Inverleith. The training in arms. The books he loved.
Finally his father. Now he knew the source of the nightmares.
And Jamie. What had happened to Jamie Campbell? His friend had ridden with him. As had Hector Maclean and so many other Macleans. Where were they now?
He’d wanted the memories, and now he wanted them to stop.
They reached the tower. It had been forbidding the first time. It was much more so now. He was a Scot; there was a price on his head. He had brought Kimbra and Audra into jeopardy as well. His main concern now was protecting them, not himself. He should have died years ago. His father died in his place. The weight of that event had never left him.
Rory was nearby. He would be here for one reason, and one reason only. To search for him.
Audra and Kimbra would like him. He would like them. His brother appreciated unconventional, spirited women. He certainly had married one. Lachlan smiled at a memory that was solid and real now. Memories. He would never take them for granted again.
He slid off his horse and looked back for Kimbra. She and Magnus were lagging behind, probably because of the litter. He wanted to stay to see whether Bear had survived the journey, but Jock pushed him toward the door and inside.
He knew where he was going. Up the steps, and this time with his hands still bound behind him. He concentrated on every step and finally reached the Charlton’s room.
The door opened, and he faced the man who would decide his fate. As well as Kimbra’s and Audra’s.
The Charlton was eating. He looked up and glared.
“I told ye never to betray me,” he said.
“And I have not.”
“But ye have lied.”
“Aye.” He saw no reason to lie now. It would, in truth, make his case worse.
“Ye are Scottish.”
“A Maclean,” Lachlan said. “But I did not know it when I was here.”
The Charlton shifted in his chair. “And how can that be?”
“I lost my memory.”
“But now ye have it back.”
“Aye, but only since yesterday.”
The Charlton stood. “I singled ye out. I look like a fool.”
“For that, I am sorry. I never intended it. I was not given a choice about coming here.”
“Impudent pup,” the Charlton muttered.
“Kimbra had naught to do with it,” Lachlan hurried on. “I lied to her as well.”
“Ye did now?”
Lachlan did not like the way the Charlton said the words.
“She is guilty of nothing more than being kind. Do what you will with me, but hold her harmless.”
“Macleans?” the Charlton said thoughtfully. “’Tis said a Maclean is looking for a brother along the border.”
“That would be Rory, laird and chief of the Macleans.”
“I have heard of him. He did some smuggling.”
“Aye, so have I.”
“Where was your brother during the battle?”
“His wife had just had a bairn. I stood in for him.”
“Your mistake,” the Charlton said.
“Nay, to fight with brave men is never a mistake.”
The Charlton slapped his hand against the desk. “Well said. I knew I liked ye.” He frowned. “Ye present me with a problem, Maclean. My men know who ye are. The king wishes your death. Cedric is a vicious enemy.”
Lachlan stood silent.
“The fact, though, that your brother is seeking ye means I might make a fast trade before the English lord admiral knows ye are here.”
He eyed Lachlan speculatively, as if he were a piece of meat at a market. “I will send someone to see what their interest might be,” he continued. “In the meantime ye will be guarded. I have no dungeon here, or ye would be headed toward it. I do not like liars.”
“Kimbra? Audra?”
“I do not make war on women, but Kimbra must wed. She is far too willful. I will give her a choice, but it must be soon. Jock,” he then called, “take the Maclean to his previous chamber. He is to be guarded day and night. No visitors. Not even Mistress Kimbra.”
“Aye,” Jock said and opened the door.