Beloved Imposter (18 page)

“I cannot stay,” he said. “I must leave in several hours. There is urgent business. But I wished to see Lady Janet first.”

She beamed as if that were proof of his devotion, then sent a servant to the kitchen before ascending the stairs just inside the entrance.

He paced the hall with restless impatience. He would ask to borrow a fresh horse and be on his way as soon as he saw Janet. He wanted to know what she knew about Felicia, what part she had played in this.

Though he could not believe she would play any part.

She came down the steps. She wore a dark blue gown, and the colors deepened her blue eyes. She moved with an unconscious grace that had always entranced him.

Her face lit when she saw him, but he also saw little small signs of worry. She curtsied and held out her hand to him.

“I would like to talk to you,” he said.

She met his gaze steadily, though he detected apprehension, even fear.

He looked at Lady Jane, who had followed her. She nodded her approval.

Janet led the way into a music chamber off the great hall. The room was large enough for a small audience. A harp stood at the front, and there were also several lutes and a vielle.

Hands folded in front of her, she sat in one of the chairs, while he paced. Finally he blurted out his question. “What do you know about Felicia’s disappearance?”

She looked up at him. “I had hoped she had found you.”

Shock jolted through him. He had not expected that answer. He had been told at Dunstaffnage that Janet had been drugged, that she knew nothing about the substitution, nor of Felicia’s disappearance.

“You knew what she planned?”

“Aye,” she said, her eyes challenging him.

She had never done that before.

“You helped her?”

“Aye,” she admitted again.

“Why?”

“I could not stand by and see her marry the Earl of Morneith, not when I…” Her voice trailed off.

“When you?” he prompted.

“When I was so happy,” she said in a soft, uncertain voice.

He held out a hand to her and urged her up from the chair. He folded her in his arms, something he had never done before. He had done what was expected. She had been an acceptable bride, a lovely bride, in truth, and he had always liked her. If he had ever had a reservation, it had been that she seemed to have little spirit. Next to Felicia, she had seemed colorless.

But now he saw in her what Felicia had apparently seen.

He did not know whether Felicia’s actions had been the wisest thing, but he understood her desperation, and he appreciated Janet’s loyalty to her.

“I thought… I was afraid you would be angry,” Janet said after a prolonged silence.

“I only wish I had been there,” he said.

“If you had, Felicia would have done nothing,” Janet said. “She thought you might be able to help her secretly in London, but she was insistent she would do nothing that would bring blame to you.”

A fist clasped and tightened around his heart.

He should have been her protector. He had always thought he was, but he realized he had not been in important things. Felicia’s adoration had flattered him, her exploits amused him. He wished he had been more to her. In truth, he did not like himself very much at the moment. He had allowed himself to be manipulated by his own father. Now he discovered that his cousin was ready to sacrifice herself to save him. She had not waited for his return for fear that he might risk himself.

“Where did she plan to go if she could not find me?” he asked.

“You were the beginning and end of her plan,” Janet said.

“Caves? A ship? What?”

Janet looked helpless. “She said it was a terrible plan, but she had no choice.” Her eyes begged him to understand.

He did. He could not think of Felicia with all her intelligence and curiosity being paired with Morneith, a notorious womanizer in his sixth decade. She would wither and die.

“And no one knows what happened to her?”

“The escort returned to Dunstaffnage and found me there. I was their only concern, and the steward at Dunstaffnage did not wish word to get out until they had a chance to find her.”

The Macleans would love to get their hands on a Campbell.

Jamie swore silently to himself. But if they did have his cousin, would they not have asked for a ransom by now?

“Does your father know?” she asked.

“Nay. Everyone, including William, is praying that she will be found before the escort arrives.” He paused. “Do you know where she is?”

“She was going to hide in caves until she felt safe enough to try to reach you in London,” she said.

“I checked the caves in the area,” he said. “Nothing. Nor did I encounter her on the road from London.”

“She planned to dress as a lad,” Janet said, her eyes worried. “I should never have helped her. You would have returned and…”

“Once Felicia decides to do something, I doubt anyone could stop her,” he said dryly.

“But if anything terrible has happened to her…”

“She could be in London now,” he said. “I would never underestimate my cousin. She has your mare?”

“Aye.”

He knew how important the mare was to her. It had taken immense generosity for her to loan the mare to Felicia. He touched her cheek, realizing how little he really knew her.

“I will find both of them,” he swore.

She looked up at him with blue eyes full of trust. Yet she was not the shy, quiet lass he’d thought. He was finding depths that delighted him.

He leaned down and kissed her lightly. He called upon all his willpower not to deepen the kiss, not to explore those depths.

“I will have to borrow a fresh horse,” he said.

She nodded. “And eat. My mother ordered some food.”

He nodded.

“Where will you go?”

“There have been Maclean raiding parties,” he said. “They raided one of our villages and stole cattle around the time Felicia disappeared. I am thinking they may have found her. If not, they might have heard something.”

She frowned. “You are not going alone?”

“Aye. Their walls are impenetrable. A full force would accomplish little. A lone wayfarer would not be a threat, and they do not know me. I will say I am a Stewart.”

“Better a Cameron,” she said, surprising him yet again. “We are at peace with the Macleans. I can find you a crest and plaid with our dyes.”

Her body trembled. Fear. For him. Humbled, he regretted how little time he had spent with her, how much he had taken for granted.

He held her tight. “Thank you.”

“Please be careful.”

“Aye,” he said. “I have much to come home to.” He straightened. “Will you get the garments while I eat? I must leave shortly.”

“I will bring them to you at the stable. ‘Tis better if my mother does not know.”

“You have been with my cousin too long,” he said, then touched her lips with his fingertips. “I canna wait until we are wed.”

Her face flashed with pleasure. “I will find some clothing for you while you eat.”

He leaned down and kissed her hard, bringing her body close to his, then reluctantly let go.

The sooner he found his cousin, the sooner he could return.

Felicia stopped in to see Alina. Baron greeted her with a bark and a frantically waving tail.

Robina, along with Alina’s mother, had been caring for the child while Felicia had been with Rory.

Robina stood when she came in. “Alina’s mither went to the kitchen,” she said. “She says she can cook and wanted to help.”

That, Felicia thought, would be a godsend to everyone here.

She knelt down beside Alina. “How is the bravest lass in Scotland?”

The child flushed with pride. Pain was still etched in her face, but her color had returned to normal and she breathed easily.

“Is my lord better?” Alina asked. “Robina said you were caring for him.”

It amazed Felicia that Alina worried about her laird, when she still suffered so from the burn and the wounds to her leg.

“Aye. Moira is a fine healer.”

“Moira says my leg might heal.” The words were said with such hope that Felicia’s heart caught with sudden agony. Alina would bear the scars inflicted by Campbell clansmen throughout her life.

“Would you like me to sing a song?” she asked.

She would be trying to slip away tonight. The thought of seeing neither Rory nor Alina again only intensified the agony she felt. She wouldn’t know if Alina would run, or if Rory would love once more. She wouldn’t know whether Lachlan would finally find his place, or if Moira ever learned to cook.

It was startling to her that she could come to care so much in such a short period of time. She wondered whether it was because her heart had been waiting to open, to find a place. Why did God open it here?

She started to sing a song, a sad one about unrequited love.

“No,” Alina said. “The one you sang before.”

Felicia started to hum, then the words came. Tender and loving. Comforting. She wished it would wipe away the hurt inside. She suspected nothing could.

*

Lachlan rode with a troop of Macleans. They were to patrol the border between their land and the Camerons. The Camerons had once been allies, but a marriage between the Cameron lass and a Campbell would create an alliance that bode no good for the Macleans. Archibald and Douglas had hoped to nullify that alliance with a marriage between Lady Janet and Rory.

Lachlan feared they may have made it worse.

The Campbells apparently had felt safe enough to pass over Cameron land to raid Maclean villages. The fact that Macleans had stolen the Cameron lass and must return her without marriage could well destroy any hope of an alliance.

He and his fellow clansmen had been sent by Rory to patrol for intruders, for a marauding Campbell or Cameron troop. Feeling totally inadequate for the task, he’d tried to demur. But Rory had threatened to go himself, and his brother was obviously not well enough yet. Lachlan would not be responsible for the death of yet another Maclean lord.

He was to patrol half of the border, Archibald the other half.

The night was cold but the sky was clear, the full moon lighting the gorse-covered hills.

Lachlan’s troop visited the village that had been burned. They were already rebuilding. He left two men there to help, then left two more men to guard a road that wound between the hills.

There was only one more pass. He would leave two more men there.

The first slivers of dawn pierced the darkness as he looked down at the pass from a vantage point above. He was about to position two men to guard the pass when he saw movement.

He peered downward. A man on a dark horse rode through the pass. He seemed to cling to the shadows of the terrain.

Lachlan considered the possibilities. Most Scots were afoot. That meant the man below was of rank, or was a valued soldier.

A Campbell spy?

Or a Cameron?

Mayhap neither.

An image flitted through his head. Three years ago. An encounter with a group of armed men …

He was not going to allow that to happen again.

He gestured to two of the three men with him to circle around so that the man would be surrounded. Then he mounted and rode down to accost the man himself.

He put a hand on his sword. He, like his brothers, had undergone training. Unlike them, he’d never had the inclination to use it.

He rode the horse down the hill and reached the road just as the horseman appeared from behind a rocky edge.

Dawn had spread across the eastern part of the sky, and Lachlan saw the crest. A Cameron.

His gaze went to the face, and he froze.

He’d gone to Edinburgh with his father eight years ago. He had been but a lad. Rory had already gone to sea. Patrick had been left at Inverleith to guard the Maclean properties.

His father had pointed a young man out to him. “There is the spawn of the devil,” he’d said.

It had been Jamie Campbell.

The same man who approached him now.

*Chapter 13*

In the dawn’s early rays, Jamie saw recognition—sudden awareness—on the face of the young man who faced him.

He swore as a second man appeared to his left and another to his right. He would be a good catch for the Macleans. A large ransom would be demanded if indeed his life wasn’t forfeit.

It went against his training to submit meekly. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, and he saw the Maclean in front of him do the same. As did the two men with him.

None of the three looked to be particularly dangerous. Jamie had trained his entire life. He was expert with the sword, and his horse was skilled in war and recognizing even the slightest signal.

He was not going to go down without a fight.

As he drew his sword, so did the others.

He decided to go for the leader first. He looked the youngest and least skilled. And if the leader was eliminated, his men might well disappear into the hills.

He touched his heels to his mount, turning the gelding ever so slightly, then charged his opponent. To his surprise, the rider easily avoided his charge, skillfully moving his horse away just in time to avoid a blow.

Too late, he became aware of still a fourth man. He felt himself being dragged down from behind, and then three more men were on him. He fought back, frantically searching for the sword, but it was gone.

And then everything went black.

Felicia stayed with Alina until the child went to sleep. She was tired beyond words, both in body and soul. She was aware that a tear trickled down her cheek, and she ignored it.

She did not want to go back to her room. She could not sleep. She knew she needed to stay away from Rory. Just before dawn, she would go to her room, don the lad’s clothes, and slip down to a place she could hide until a party left the keep. She hoped she could meld in with them.

Until then, she wanted to stay with Alina, to feel needed and wanted a few hours longer.

Alina’s mother entered the room with a bowl of soup.

“She is sleeping,” Felicia said as softly as possible.

“The soup can wait then.” The older woman paused, then added, “Ye have been so kind. I will no’ forget ye. Nor will Alina.”