Beloved Imposter (13 page)

He saw to it that litters were prepared and attached to the horses. Those not badly wounded were assigned to ride with some of his men. He watched as they departed.

“Let us find your missing lads,” he told Ramsey.

Felicia rose with the sun and went to the window.

The dawn was cloudless. It would be a glorious day.

She did not want a glorious day.

Lachlan had told her last night they would leave at early morn. She would have to pretend an illness she did not feel. A relapse.

Back to the fireplace.

But how many times would that sham work? Still, she pushed several stones in the embers and waited impatiently for them to warm again.

When she dared wait no longer, she wrapped them in cloth and crept back to the bed. She put them to her cheeks. When she heard a knock, she quickly moved the rocks near her feet, replaced the covering, and huddled in the bed, hoping to look ill.

Another knock. She tensed as the door opened.

Moira entered with a breakfast tray and stopped suddenly as she saw Felicia. “Oh milady. The fever is back.”

Felicia tried to look ill. Very, very ill. “My fault,” she said. “I did over much yesterday.”

“Lachlan has already broke fast. He and an escort are waiting.”

“I do not think I can travel today. I feel light-headed.”

Moira looked quite pleased at the news. “I will tell him and bring ye some porridge.”

Moira’s porridge was quite terrible, but a price well worth paying if she could earn herself a few more hours. Perhaps without the lord in residence, it would be easier to escape the keep.

The lord
. Rory. Rory Maclean.

She had to stop thinking of him.

Nothing was more impossible. There was no future with him. But he remained in her thoughts, as welcome—and as impossible to dismiss—as an enemy army at the gates.

She still remembered how her body felt next to his, the heady exchange of kisses, both gentle and demanding.

God’s love. He was a Maclean. She was a Campbell. He had raided her people. Her people had just raided his, and he had gone to do only God knew what.

He said he wanted peace, but how could there be peace after the latest raid and what was sure to be retaliation? Was he killing Campbells now? Men that she knew? Men who had watched her spar with Jamie? She could still hear their shouts of encouragement as she’d lifted the heavy sword.

Moira still regarded her with a worried look. “I will tell Lachlan.”

She disappeared out the door, and Felicia quickly placed the stones close to her cheeks again. The stones were cooling, but she hoped they were hot enough to redden her cheeks. Then she shoved them back under the covering as the door opened.

Lachlan strolled in. He was dressed for riding with a warm fur mantle covering most of body. He wore long hose and soft boots.

“Lady Janet,” he said. “Moira told me the distressing news.” He leaned down and touched one of her cheeks.

Something like amusement flickered in his eyes, and she wondered if he sensed her deception.

“I am sorry to ruin your plans,” she said in as weak a voice as she could feign.

“Ah but it is your welfare that concerns me,” he said. “I know you must be anxious to return home. Your family must be most distressed. In truth, I thought we might have visitors by now.”

Could he possibly know what she was about? But no. How could he?

“My mother and father are not at home. They are at the court in Edinburgh,” she said.

“Still there must be someone concerned about your absence,” he said with annoying persistence. “We should send a rider to your home and tell them you are safe.”

“Nay!” she said before she could stop herself.

“And why not?”

She frantically searched for a reason and finally came up with one. She finally came up with a half truth. “They wish me to marry someone I do not wish to marry.”

“The Campbell?”

“Aye,” she said reluctantly, mentally asking God to forgive the lie. A day. Mayhap two. That was all she needed.

He looked thoughtful. “You cannot remain missing forever.”

“Nay, but if he thought I had been abducted—”

“Your reputation would be ruined, and he would not want you,” he completed.

“Aye,” she said as she watched him carefully.

“You wish to use my brother?”

“I was the one who was taken,” she reminded him.

“And you wish to take advantage of it. Have you thought what the Campbells might do if they thought we abducted you? The Campbells and Camerons together?”

“You
did
abduct me,” she said reasonably.

“Aye. Unfortunately, my brother refuses to make it right. He could marry you, and all would be solved.”

“Would I have naught to say in this?”

She saw a gleam in his eyes.

“I have seen how you look at him and how he looks at you.”

“He looks at me in no special way. He had made it clear he wants no marriage. He certainly does not want me.”

“Then you are blind, my lady.”

“I believe what he says.”

“And if you did not?”

“I am but a pawn,” she said. “My desires have no value. But I do not wish to marry anyone. I want…”

He waited.

She had almost blurted out the words. She wanted to get to London to see what help Jamie could offer. She could not be the bride of a Maclean even if he did want her. He most certainly would not if he knew who she was. He would despise her. He no doubt felt her family was responsible for every tragedy that had beset him.

“A woman seldom has the choice of loving. Decisions are made for her.”

He searched her face. “I want my brother to love again. He was a different man then.”

“And you. Have you ever loved?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“I am of no matter,” he said.

He was avoiding the subject, and that made her wonder. She wanted to learn more about all the Macleans.

They were not the barbarians she had been told, and had believed. Of course, they might well turn into such if they learned her true identity.

“You were a lad when Lord Rory left?”

“Aye.”

“And the older son?”

“Patrick?”

“Aye. How long has he been gone?”

“More than three years.”

“You do not believe he will return?”

“Rory does.”

“But you do not?”

“If he were a prisoner somewhere, ransom would be asked,” he said. His expression changed, his brown eyes darkening. “Are you concerned that Rory will not inherit?”

“I care nothing about rank or power,” she said.

“Then we are two of a kind.”

“Are we?” she asked suddenly. Was it possible that Lachlan would, could, help her?

“I must leave,” she said urgently. “Will you help me?”

“I thought you were reluctant to return.”

“I do not wish to go home. I wish to go to London.”

His eyes widened with surprise. “London?”

“I have friends there. They will help me.”

“Do you hate James Campbell that much?”

“Would
you
like to be traded like a horse?”

“Nay, no more than I like expectations of what I should be.”

“Will you help me then?”

“You cannot travel alone safely.”

“I can travel as a lad.”

He studied her for a long time. “Aye,” he said softly.

“No more questions?”

“Nay.”

She knew what she was asking of him. He would be going against the orders of his chief. His brother.

For her? For reasons of his own?

Or could he be trusted at all? She did not know him that well, nor did she have much experience at judging the motives of others.

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Because you are desperate,” he said simply. “And I have been, as well.” He did not elaborate, and his tone warned her not to pry further.

“I do not wish any harm to come to you.”

“I know,” he said. “My brother no longer knows how to love. Or laugh. Or be happy. But he would not punish me for doing what I think is right.”

She prayed it was so.

“When?” She wanted to leave now. Before Rory Maclean returned and she lost her resolve.

“On the morn. Moira has already announced that you are ill. You should stay in today.” He gave her a crooked smile. “And you can take the stones from the bed. They are no longer needed.”

His smile widened slightly as he regarded her, and she knew guilt must be evident on her face.

“You are not the first to think of such tactics,” he said.

She wondered why he—the son of a powerful earl—had also resorted to trickery, but while he usually wore an amused smile, she was quickly learning there were depths to him and as many shadows as followed his older brother.

“We will leave for your home with a small escort,” he said. “No one will wonder that I would lose you.”

His expression went straight to her heart. As she had always felt out of place, so, apparently, had he.

“Thank you.”

“I think this afternoon you can go down and see your foal, though.”

“She is not mine,” she said.

“Rory gave her to you.”

“He will not be so generous when I do not do his bidding.”

“He keeps his word. He will send her to you when she is old enough.”

“You admire him.”

“Aye, I do. He follows his own star.”

“So, I think, do you.”

He shrugged. “I am nothing.”

Before she could reply, he left her, the words leaving a sad echo in the room.

*Chapter 9*

Felicia stayed away from the foal as long as she could. She did not want to say good-bye.

She coveted the foal with all her soul. She had never had a horse of her own. Everything at Dunstaffnage belonged to her uncle.

But it was not her foal. And never could be.

Not wanting appraising eyes on her at the table in the great hall, she took supper in her room. She asked Moira for only bread, cheese, and soup, saying the fever had sapped her appetite. She had learned that these items were the least offensive of all the food.

How she would like to help Moira improve the life here. She liked Archibald, and even the tight-lipped Douglas. Every man and lad had been kind to her.

And the household was in deep need of care.

She ate, then put on her cloak and went down the steps. She passed by the kitchen. Several servants were darting in and out. She found two apples and a knife. She cut the apple in quarters, then passed the great hall where some Macleans were eating. Their number was much fewer than it had been the previous night, and, unlike other meals, there was none of the customary hum of conversation or boasting. Macleans were dead this day.

A shudder ran through her. She had always believed there was only one side to the feud. No more. An innocent village had been attacked. Rory Maclean might well be engaged in a battle with troops from Dunstaffnage. Thank God that Jamie wouldn’t be with them.

She could not bear the thought of the Maclean and Jamie crossing swords.

The Maclean does not mean anything to me.

She repeated the words over and over, but she soon realized saying them did not make them so. She did care. A suffocating sensation tightened her throat as she realized how much.

How could that happen so quickly?

Jamie and Janet had known each other for years, but it was not until Jamie’s father pressed him to take Janet for a wife that he offered for her. She had no doubt that he cared deeply for Janet now, but it had not been immediate.

Was it the appeal of forbidden fruit? Of all the men in the world, a Maclean would be the most impossible match for her. She sighed. It could also be, she admitted, that no one had ever before displayed any interest in her. Perhaps any man’s kiss might have had the same effect.

She reached the stables and stopped first to feed Janet’s mare the quarters of one apple, then she continued on to the stall where the new mother and baby were stabled.

The mare smelled the treat and nickered softly, then moved to take the apple from Felicia’s hand. The baby followed on long, awkward legs.

Felicia reached over and stroked the foal’s long, silky neck. She truly was beautiful. Her eyes were huge. “You are going to be a fine mare,” Felicia said. “I wish …”

The loud piercing sound of the alarm horn cut through the night. Riders approached!

Felicia’s heart pounded against her rib cage.

Rory Maclean had returned. Or was it a party searching for her? Would the Campbells send a party here? Certainly not after raiding a Maclean village?

It had to be Rory. Her heart tripped at the thought of seeing him once more, even though she knew it would make escape even more difficult. Would he still entrust her to his brother?

She left the stables and entered the great hall, taking the steps up to the ramparts. There she joined the sentry and looked down.

She counted ten horses, each carrying two people. Several horses dragged litters behind them. Men and women walked beside them.

The order was given to open the gates. She quickly descended and ran out into the bailey as tired horses and exhausted Macleans—men and women, several carrying bairns—entered. Macleans poured from the great hall and other buildings.

Moira and Robina joined her, as Archibald approached them. He was walking, holding the reins of a horse following behind him. He stopped, wearily, walked around to the saddle, and assisted a woman and young girl in dismounting.

“We have wounded,” he said to Moira who quickly moved to check each litter.

“My brother?” Lachlan asked Archibald as they helped villagers dismount.

“He stayed behind to search for several villagers who ran when the Campbells raided the village,” Archibald said. “The healer was killed, and crofts burned. There was no shelter left for these people.”

“Take them into the great hall,” Lachlan said.

“I can help Moira,” Felicia said. “I learned much from the healer at…” She stopped herself before she said Dunstaffnage.

Moira obviously heard and looked up. “God save ye, milady,” she said gratefully.

Lachlan’s startled expression gave her pause. Was it because she had stopped in mid-sentence, or because she had claimed to know healing?