Beloved Stranger Read Online Free PDF Page B

several times, before his eyes finally opened and focused on her. She put the palm of her hand against his cheek. Miraculously it was not warm. He had escaped fever thus far.
    God must be looking after him.
    “I will fetch water,” she said. His thirst would be a mighty thing after a day lying on the battlefield.
    “My . . . thanks.”
    She mixed water with rosemary and poured the mixture into a cup. She returned and handed it to him. He took a sip, made a face at the bitter taste.
    “It will help you sleep,” she said.
    He took another sip, then another, until the cup was empty.
    “Do you remember who you are now?” she asked.
    Frustration filled his face, bewilderment his eyes. He shook his head.
    “I have to leave you here and fetch my daughter. She is seven. She must think you English,” she said. “You must have a name.”
    “I . . . do . . . not know.”
    She had been thinking during the time she had bathed him. “You are Robert Howard. ’Tis a large and scattered family, and no one would want to question a Howard overly much. It is said they have powerful friends at court.”
    She stared at him for a long moment, then repeated, “Robert Howard. Can you remember that?”
    He nodded, then said, “But I have to know—”
    “Later. I have much to do.”
    “Your . . . husband?”
    “He is dead. By the hand of a Scot.” She stood.
    “Your name?”
    “’Tis Kimbra Charlton.”
    “Kimbra Charlton . . . I am sorry about your husband.”
    She stood, aware that his eyes followed her every movement.
    “My thanks,” he said again. “I do not know why you are doing what you are doing but—”
    “’Tis not for you,” she said abruptly.
    “Then why?”
    “You have the look of a noble or man of wealth. There may be a ransom. A reward.”
    A light in his eyes dimmed, and an unexpected stab of self-disgust went through her. She had purposely rebuked him, wanting to distance herself. She had tended wounded men before, men not her husband, and she had never felt anything but pity and a fierce desire to defeat death.
    She felt something more now. She told herself it was pity, but pity was no longer a part of her. She admired his fierce determination to live. Anyone else with his wounds would have succumbed. There was something indomitable about him, and it reminded her of Will.
    She hadn’t saved Will. Mayhap she could save this man.
    He closed his eyes. The rosemary slowly took effect, and finally the Scot slept, though fretfully.
    Would he remember what she had told him? It was ever so important. Audra had no guile, nor did Kimbra want her to have it.
    Anxious to return quickly, she left and rode Magnus to Jane’s hut and found Audra sitting on a stone in front of the door. Her daughter’s worried face creased into a toothy smile.
    “How’s my love?” Kimbra said as she dismounted and swept her daughter into her arms for a hug.
    “I have to talk to Jane,” she said, setting her daughter down. “Can you wait here and watch Magnus?”
    Audra beamed.
    “Remember what I told you. Do not get too close and do not make a quick movement. It could startle him.”
    “I will sing a song to him.”
    “I think he would like that very much.” And he would. Audra had a sweet and true voice.
    The door opened as she started to knock. Jane welcomed her with a smile.
    “Thank you for keeping Audra.”
    “She is a joy.”
    “I will be home this night, and hopefully the next nights.”
    Jane’s face fell. “I will miss her.”
    “I suspect you will see her soon. I will bring her over to visit, along with some bay leaves for your legs.”
    Jane nodded. She had pain in her legs, and Kimbra’s bay leaves could be made into an oil that relieved it.
    Kimbra said her farewell and hurried out to Audra. It had been only seconds, but she worried about her daughter, nonetheless.
    The sweet sound of her daughter’s voice stopped her. She was singing an old lullaby to the horse. The picture, and melody, sent pangs