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He couldn’t find the Scot.
    She finished covering him, knowing that only God could save him over the next day. She couldn’t return until night, and then not until late.
    She leaned down. “Stay still. I will return,” she whispered. “Tonight. Sometime tonight.”
    Then she covered the last of his face with leaves and stood.
    “Kimbra!”
    The voice was nearer. She grabbed her sack and the mail and helmet, then moved swiftly to her right, past several trees, before answering him. Cedric would be pleased with the mail. Even she could see that it was of the finest metal.
    “I’m here.”
    “Where have ye been?”
    She held up her chain mail. “See what I found.”
    He looked at her through narrowed eyes, then reached out for the chain mail.
    She drew it close to her body. “It is mine.”
    “Nay, me lady,” he said mockingly. “’Tis Charlton property.”
    “You should remember that as well. It will not be yourn.”
    His lips turned into a smirk and turned. “Be careful, Kimbra. I have asked to the Charlton for yer hand, and he looks kindly on my suit.”
    “I do not believe you.”
    “He wants ye wed.” His eyes bore into her. “The cart is leaving. Unless ye wish to ride wi’ me.”
    Kimbra didn’t. She clung to the chain mail even as she twisted the top of the sack around her hand and lifted it to her shoulder, then made her way between the bodies. She knew she would never forget the stench.
    She also knew she would be back this eve.
    She wondered if the Scot would still be alive then.
    She also wondered why she cared enough to risk her life.
    She only knew she must. This man had tried desperately to live. And if she could save one life in this sea of death, mayhap God would forgive her the other sins.

Chapter 2
    W HEN the cart arrived back at the Charlton tower, Kimbra added her sack—and the chain mail—to the jewelry and armor and clothing in the center of the courtyard. Well aware that every day she had to prove worthy, she made sure the Charlton noted that she brought more than many of the others. But she kept the jeweled crest hidden in the bosom of her gown, even though it seemed to burn a hole in her chest.
    She was given leave to take one item for her own, and she chose a gold ring. If she was going to participate in thievery, she was going to make sure that at least some small part of it protected her daughter.
    Once all had been collected, she walked to her cottage. Bear ran gleefully toward her. The huge dog, named because he’d looked like nothing so much as a bear cub when he was a pup, stopped at her gown, sniffed the dried blood, and looked up anxiously.
    Engulfed with the enormity of what she’d just done this night, she hesitated for a moment, then leaned down to pet him. “It is all right, Bear.” But he took several steps back and looked around.
    “She will be home soon,” Kimbra assured him. Audra was Bear’s charge as well as playmate.
    She fed the dog some leftover stew, then changed her gown, quickly washing the bloody mourning gown she had worn to the battlefield. She wanted to throw it away—to never look at it again—but every possession was valuable now. She did not have the luxury of destroying a garment. Instead she hung it outside over the branch of a tree.
    Then she fed the chickens and milked the cow. Bess bellowed with disapproval at the lateness of what was usually a morning ritual. Kimbra pacified her with soft words and fresh hay. She then saddled Magnus, leading him from the small stable that housed the two animals.
    It was far into the day now. There was no way she could reach the wounded man until dark. She would need Magnus to bring him back, and a hobbler as fine as Magnus would attract notice.
    Would the Scot even live that long?
    She didn’t know. She did know that the longer he went without attention, the more risk there was of infection. His face haunted her as she walked swiftly down the path. It had been wracked with pain, but his eyes had