Beloved Imposter (27 page)

Was that really the reason? Or was he wanting to keep the lass from her cousin?

Tomorrow she would be left entirely alone.

Rory did not want that, yet he saw no alternative for it.

He had one last stop tonight.

Jamie spent the afternoon pacing the room.

He was a prisoner, but worse, he feared he was being manipulated.

It had sounded right earlier. He did not doubt Morneith was a traitor. He had always despised the man.

But then he had always despised Macleans as well. How could he possibly trust Rory Maclean?

Still, he was far more comfortable, and Felicia seemed to be well. Had he been wrong about the Macleans all these years? He did not want to think so. It would destroy the tapestry of all he believed.

Could he trust the new lord?

The man was not the raving predator he had expected when he was first captured. He had thought, in that moment, his life had ended.

He’d puzzled, though, over the Maclean’s simmering hostility, even as his enemy provided a certain civilized imprisonment.

Civilized or not, it
was
imprisonment.

Jamie despised his feeling of helplessness. He could not see Felicia to assure himself that she truly was safe. He had had only those few moments to see her. Her eyes had been bright, her greeting warm. She had demonstrated no fear of her captors, but then he would have expected no less. She was a Campbell.

The door opened. Rory Maclean strode in.

“Another visit so soon? I am honored,” Jamie said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

“We have details to discuss,” the Maclean said, ignoring both his words and manner.

Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a wall. He was not going to make it easy for his captor.

“You need information,” the Maclean said curtly. “The rumors about Morneith came, as I said, from French spies as well as diplomats trying to negotiate a marriage between King Henry’s sister, Mary, and the French King.”

“There was talk of that in London,” Jamie said.

“The French distrust King Henry and his ambitions in Europe, and particularly Wolsey, who is the power in England now. Louis feels the Scots are the only reason Henry does not attack them.”

Jamie nodded. He had heard many of the same sentiments at the Scottish court. Both the Scots and the French felt King Henry had his eye on France but feared being attacked from his neighbor to the north if he struck. And King Henry had reason for such a belief. If the English attacked France, King James most certainly would seize the opportunity to move on northern England.

“The French do not want Scotland weakened,” Rory continued. “Henry does. I was told by a diplomat that Wolsey swore Scotland would collapse from within. It was presented as a reason for a marriage between Louis and Princess Mary. The diplomat said France could not depend forever on Scotland to be a detriment to an English invasion of France, that some Scottish nobles hungry for land and titles had already promised loyalty to Henry in exchange for more lands.

“Another French spy identified one of those men as Morneith. He passed the information to me because we have done business together in the past. He had heard Maclean land might be among the reward. Others confirmed the story that emissaries from Henry were meeting with Scottish lairds.”

“Morneith was the only man mentioned?” Jamie asked, intrigued despite himself. It made sense, all of it.

“Aye. Buckingham was said to be the intermediary with Morneith. The sum of twenty-five thousand pounds was mentioned as well as our lands. There could be other traitors as well, but Morneith was the only name specifically mentioned.”

The Maclean paused. “This news was one reason I returned when I did. I wanted to establish alliances. It would be necessary to be believed.” The Maclean paused, then added, “I had hoped to end this feud between our two clans.”

Jamie did not answer immediately. He thought he had been sent to London to remove him from making any protest about a marriage between Felicia and Morneith. His father knew he considered her a sister, and a loved one at that. Perhaps there had been more to it as well. Perhaps King James had heard whispers of betrayal and had hoped Jamie might hear something at the court.

If the latter was true, he certainly had heard naught of interest other than continuing concerns about the intentions of France and Spain. He had delivered greetings from King James to King Henry, and sympathy on the death of Henry’s newborn child. He had not lingered at a court where Scots were considered crude ruffians.

He was also bemused by the Maclean’s statement that he’d intended to end the feud between the two clans. There was no doubt it was bleeding both families. But his father … he hated the Macleans and had given the Campbells’ steward, William, permission to raid and harass them at every opportunity.

“How do I know this is true?” he finally responded.

“You do not. If I were you, I would be suspicious as well,” the Maclean said.

“Then why should I believe you?”

“Because I hope you care about your king and country as well as Lady Felicia. If Morneith is a traitor and can recruit others, James will have a dagger in his back. If Scottish lands go to outsiders, Scotland will be divided and weakened.”

Jamie nodded.
It was dangerous
. Morneith was a powerful man, and the Maclean had received his information from the French. It could well be a trap to divide the Scottish crown, or even drive more wedges between the English and the Scots. His head could well be at stake.

And yet if Maclean was right, it should be easy enough to prove by Morneith’s response to several questions.

Still, he was not happy about leaving Felicia here in an enemy’s camp. He instinctively believed the Maclean, but he had believed others before and turned out to be wrong. Neither did he like the way Maclean looked at Felicia. The man’s face was difficult to read, but earlier there had been a brief flash of anger and desire when he and Felicia had greeted one another. It had lasted so briefly that he was not even sure he’d seen it. A flicker, nothing more, before the Maclean’s expression had been controlled again.

“She is safer here,” the Maclean added. He’d obviously seen the displeasure in his prisoner’s eyes.

“I am not so sure of that.”

“She disappeared once. Do you believe your father would give her another chance? He might well try to wed her immediately.”

Jamie knew that was exactly what he would do. Still, it went against all he was to leave her here. “I want to talk to her first. Alone.”

The Maclean frowned.

“I will not go otherwise,” Jamie said.

“Aye, you can see her,” Rory conceded reluctantly.

“And what do I tell my father?”

“That you were able to escape, but she was not.”

“He will ask the king to demand her release.”

“I am hoping that you can expose Morneith before he has a chance to act.”

Jamie was beset by even more doubts. “Why would you risk so much for a Campbell lass?”

“I told you. I feel responsible for her plight. Honor demands that I set it right.”

“And in doing so, perhaps solve another problem,” Jamie said, cynicism lacing his words. “I would not depend on currying favor with my father, if I were you. Or the king. Both of us could end without our heads. Mine, though, would be in the most imminent peril.”

The Maclean did not argue the point.

“When do I leave?” Jamie finally asked.

“Tonight.”

“But I see my cousin alone first.”

“She cannot know the plan.”

“No,” Jamie agreed. He did not enjoy the moment of understanding that flashed between them. Yet he could not fault the Maclean’s reasoning.

“Your brother, Lachlan, is he to be trusted completely?”

The Maclean hesitated a second too long before saying, “Aye. I would not commit him if not.”

It was a warning, intended or not, that gave Jamie pause. Still, he did not see a choice. Too much was at stake.

The Maclean studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I will take you to her now.” The Maclean’s voice hardened slightly, and again Jamie wondered what had transpired since Felicia entered this keep.

The supper gong rang, but no one had invited her to leave this chamber. Felicia had put on one of the dresses Moira had provided and had brushed her cropped hair until it fairly glowed.

Then she had sat and waited. Surely Lachlan would come for her, even if Rory did not.

The laird had been avoiding her since learning her identity. That much was clear. She ached inside that such was true. She missed him, missed the piercing gaze and gentle touch. A surge of warmth flowed through her as she remembered his lips on hers, the way her body responded to his.

An agonizing pain caught in her chest, even as she knew how foolish it was. Rory was her family’s enemy, and they had known each other only briefly. How could she have such strong feelings? She tried to tell herself it was only that no one had paid her heed before. She was reacting to an admiration that was new to her. Her heart was not involved. Only her pride.

She kept telling herself that.

Then why did she feel such a devastating loss?

She tried to concentrate on Jamie. What did Rory plan to do with him?

She could not imagine anything terrible. He could be hard and cold, but there was also something tender and vulnerable in him.

Or did she only imagine it?

A knock came at the door, and her heart lurched.

Jamie entered. Alone. She felt a disgraceful disappointment that Rory was not with him.

Jamie regarded her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. “Are you really unharmed?” he asked.

“I am,” she said softly. “No one has been unkind, not even when they discovered I was a Campbell.”

“And the Maclean?”

“He has ensured my comfort,” she said.

“He has not… forced his attentions …”

“Nay,” she said, and it was not a lie. She had invited his attentions, but she could not tell Jamie that.

He lifted her chin with a fisted hand to look into her eyes.

“You look sad.”

“I was worried about you.”

“What happened to your hair?”

“I cut it.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly. “The question then is why?”

She did not want to answer that.

“Felicia?”

She knew him well enough to understand he would wait for an answer. “I was going to dress as a boy and try to leave when the gates opened yesterday morning.”

“And why did you not?”

“I saw them bring you in.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “And you were going to try to save me?”

“I hoped, and then I decided—” She stopped.

“Decided what?” he urged gently.

“To plead with the Maclean to release you.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing,” she said miserably.

“You thought he might allow me to leave? Just because you asked. Why would that be?”

She did not reply. He would hate the fact that she had pleaded for him. Yet he only looked at her with that quizzical expression.

“Be cautious about who you trust, Felicia,” he said.

“What is he going to do with you?”

He shrugged. “Keep me as a hostage,” he said.

“You have not been mistreated?”

“Nay.”

“Have you given your parole?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “No. But I am well guarded, and he knows no one can leave Inverleith without his permission.”

“Your father will be furious.”

“He often is.”

“With the Macleans, I mean.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Aye. There are children here. And people who have done no wrong other than to live on Maclean land.”

He raised an eyebrow at her defense. “The same might be said of Campbell tenants.”

“I do not want anyone hurt because of my foolishness.”

“I only wish I had been at Dunstaffnage,” he said softly.

“You could not have done anything for me there. My only chance was to find you in London without anyone knowing.”

“Ah, my little lioness. I can imagine no other woman attempting what you did.”

“You are not angry with Janet?”

“For helping you? Nay. I think more of her.”

“Oh Jamie, I am so glad. I was afraid …”

“Do you have so little faith in me, then?” he asked, his lips turned in a frown.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He was the only person who had loved her since her mother and father had died. He had been her knight as a child, and a dear friend and brother later.

“Oh no,” she said. “I do have faith in you.”

“Promise me something.”

She looked up at him.

“Never forget what you just said. Always know that I love you. I will always protect you.”

A shiver ran through her. She had the strangest feeling he was trying to tell her something he could not put into words.

“I trust you,” she said simply.

It was then she noticed that the Maclean had entered the room and was staring at them with those inscrutable eyes.

Chapter 19

Jamie gazed down at the lass who had come to mean so much to him. He remembered when she had first arrived at Dunstaffnage. She had but five years and was obviously frightened and bewildered.

But still she had marched up to him, stared at him for a long time, then announced quite solemnly that she expected him to be her champion. It had been pure bravado. He had smiled then, and she had made him smile many times since. Smiles had been rare before she appeared.

His life had been training and discipline. His mother and father were often at court, and his guidance came from a sour steward and a number of demanding tutors and instructors in arms. Not long after Felicia arrived, he found her outside the room where the tutoring sessions were held. Even though the material was advanced, she had a thirst for knowledge that always eluded him. He had been amused, though, and insisted that she be allowed to stay for the sessions.

As she grew older, she would watch him practice with the broadsword and other weapons and, at twelve, had asked him to show her how to do it.