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been as pure a blue as she’d ever seen.
    The image did not leave her as she rode over to Jane Carey’s small hut.
    Jane, a widow who often looked after children, was adored by them all. She was a Charlton by blood and had been permitted to keep her small abode.
    Audra came out the door, and Kimbra slid off the horse and leaned over to hug her. Her daughter had but seven years, and she wriggled with delight.
    “Mater,” she said, holding up her arms for a hug.
    Kimbra gave her one. “My pretty love,” she said. “Did you have a good day? Did Jane make you a sweet?”
    Audra made a face. “Porridge.”
    “Oh dear,” Kimbra said. “I will tell her to make you one tomorrow.”
    “Are you going away again?”
    “Just for a while tonight.”
    Audra looked at her with disappointment in huge blue eyes.
    “When we get back, you can help feed Magnus and Bess.”
    Audra’s face brightened. She loved animals and always wanted to feel useful. Magnus had always been gentle with both Kimbra and Audra. Kimbra had seen Cedric with horses and knew he had a cruel hand—another reason to despise such a match.
    Kimbra would never let him have control of the horse, nor of their elderly cow, which was giving less and less milk. Bess was more like a pet now. Cedric would not hold such sentimentality.
    After telling Jane she would be bringing Audra back this night, she lifted her daughter onto the horse, then mounted herself. Her daughter’s warm body cuddling against hers comforted her.
    She would give her life for Audra. This past night’s work was little enough if it would help keep her daughter safe and fed.
    They reached the stone and wood cottage Will had built for them. Unlike most, it had two rooms as well as a loft. She loved the cottage—the large room with a huge fireplace and the furniture he had built with his hands. It had a second room, which she and Will once shared. Now she shared it with Audra. The loft was for visitors.
    It was not a large dwelling, but it was well built. She’d sewn curtains for the window, and during the spring and summer, she always kept flowers from her garden in several bowls.
    It was hers.
    Audra helped her unsaddle Magnus, or at least Kimbra let her daughter think she helped, handing her the bridle and bit to put away. Together they fed and watered both Magnus and Bess. Then, holding hands, they went into the cottage.
    The day went quickly, though her thoughts continued to wander back to the battlefield, to the Scot so badly wounded. She didn’t know why he preyed so heavily on her mind, except he had been a breath of life on a field of death. Perhaps help would be a modest redemption for what she had done.
    When it grew dark, she and Audra rode Magnus back to Jane Carey’s. Audra went to sleep in her arms, and Kimbra was consumed by overwhelming love for her daughter. Audra should come first in all things.
    So why was she risking so much for a man who was an enemy?
    She had promised him. It was as simple as that.
    After she returned to her cottage, she changed into the men’s clothes she’d once worn on raids. She pulled on leather breeches, then a doublet followed by a jack, a quilted coat of stout leather sewn with plates of horn for protection. Finally she tied her hair in a knot and placed a steel bonnet over it. Except for those few who had once ridden with her husband, no one would realize she was a woman.
    A woman on a horse would be questioned. A borderer, a raider, would not, especially one with a sword at his side and a wicked-looking dagger on his belt. She started to leave, then returned to bundle several of Will’s garments together.
    It was well past midnight when she mounted Magnus and rode toward the battlefield. She felt the horse’s unease as the odor of death enveloped them. As yesterday, figures moved among the dead, looking for anything of use or value. By now, the pickings would be slim. The weapons, the jewelry, the clothes and boots would be gone. It did not