Chapter 17

Why could he not control himself around Felicia?

Rory fumed as he paced the floor of his chamber. The simple fact was he could not. She looked at him with her expressive blue eyes full of conflicting emotions. One of those emotions was always passion. A passion for life and a willingness to confront it.

She had renewed his own. He had not realized how much he had lost when Maggie, then Anne, died. He had been so afraid of caring again, of causing another woman’s death, that he had walled himself off from everyone, including his family.

She had intruded into that walled fortress. He was intrigued by her recklessness, most recently evidenced by her shorn hair. Such hair suited her face far better than the long hair pulled back from her cheeks, but it would scandalize the court. The shorn curls framed her cheeks, softening her face. Her dark blue eyes appeared larger, the mouth more vulnerable. Even more inviting.

Forget about her.

She would be gone in the next few weeks. She was as much forbidden fruit as the apple was to Adam, and he had to remember the consequences of giving in to that temptation.

And now he had a great deal of planning to do.

He had no doubt as to the motivations of the players. King James, always fearing an English invasion, needed Morneith’s large army. Rory surmised that Morneith, who would betray his king only if he thought the English would win, needed a powerful friend—and ear—at court. And Angus Campbell would do whatever King James requested to keep his favored place beside the monarch.

James Campbell had just returned from the English court. He had obviously heard none of the rumors Rory had, but that didn’t matter. Rory could give him sufficient information to make Morneith think the Campbell knew far more than he did.

Morneith would believe a Campbell who just returned from the English court far more readily than he would a Maclean.

The question was how far would Felicia’s cousin go for her? How deep was the connection between them?

As much as he tried to deny it, jealousy remained a prickling needle inside him. He wished he were a better man, but it was damned difficult to hear the two praising one another.

The devil take it. He could waste no more time mooning like a young lad. He did not believe anyone other than Alina, her mother, and Robina had seen Felicia since she had shorn her hair and dressed as a lad.

There was no way to keep Felicia’s presence unknown much longer, but he would keep it quiet as long as he could.

Once it became general knowledge, the senior Campbell could be expected to come after his niece. King James would realize victory could come only after a long siege and suggest patience while diplomacy commenced.

But Rory wanted to bait the trap before them.

He would need Lachlan’s assistance. No one else. Not even Douglas. The fewer involved the better.

Rory went down to the practice field. Douglas was training several of the young lads who had come in from outlying villages, but halted the session when he saw Rory.

“Where is Lachlan?” Rory asked.

“He took men out to relieve those guarding the passes and roads,” Douglas said.

Rory thought about sending someone for him, but decided against it. The cold, crisp air and long ride was exactly what he needed. He went down to the stables and asked a groom to saddle the fastest horse in the Maclean stable.

Lachlan had returned to patrolling Inverleith’s borders after bringing in the Campbell heir. He took with him a new troop of men to replace those already guarding the passes and roads that led to Inverleith.

He had no idea how Rory truly felt after discovering that the lady he thought was Janet Cameron was Felicia Campbell. His brother kept his emotions in firm check, and only a small tick in his cheek had acknowledged the surprise given by their prisoner.

Lachlan had felt a boulder drop in his stomach. He had noticed the new lift to Rory’s steps, and the glow in the lass’s eyes. There had been little doubt the two had been attracted to each other.

He liked the lass as well and had even thought that perhaps Archibald’s wild scheme might really come to fruition. It was time for some joy to come to Inverleith, and to his brother.

Now, it never could be. His brother could never wed a Campbell. He doubted that Rory would stay, which Lachlan had earnestly prayed would happen. As the youngest son, he had never sought the mantle or responsibility of laird. In truth, the clan would probably turn away from him and seek leadership elsewhere.

He would never overcome what happened three years ago. Had anyone whispered the details to Rory? As far as he knew, nothing had gone outside the clan, but enough inside knew the rumors to distrust him …

Lachlan replaced two sentries over a pass with new ones. ’Twas not impossible that the Campbells might approach from a northern point on the sea and ride south through the mountains. Two more stops and he could return. He worried about Rory. He had seen how his face had visibly grown harder after the Campbell’s capture, but he did not know his half brother well enough to predict what he would do to the Campbell and Felicia.

Lachlan did not blame Felicia. She’d had little choice but to play a role when she had been abducted. Lachlan only wished that she had trusted someone enough to tell the truth before Rory discovered it.

Rory had a strong sense of honor, and honesty. He was also a man who saw things in absolutes. A man was honest, or he wasn’t. He told the truth, or he didn’t. He was brave, or he wasn’t.

He expected everyone else to live up to his own stern standards.

To Lachlan, life presented more compromises.

He heard the approach of a rider and looked up.

’Twas as if he had summoned Rory in his mind. His half brother rode easily, but then Rory had always been good at everything he tried.

Lachlan walked his horse over to Rory.

“Rory?”

“Can you come back to Inverleith?”

“Aye. I think your men can find the way on their own.”

Rory raised an eyebrow at the use of his “your men.”

Lachlan went over and talked to the remaining Macleans, who nodded. He then mounted his horse.

He rode next to his brother, something he had never done before. Even last night, they had been separated. Rory had ridden in front and Lachlan in back. “Lady Felicia?” he asked.

Rory looked at him. “Do you think I would harm her?”

“Not physically.”

“Then how?”

“She cares for you. ’Tis obvious to everyone.”

“She lied to me.”

“Have you never lied? Not once? Not even for a very good reason?”

Rory ignored the question.

“Not everyone has your sense of integrity,” Lachlan said after a long silence.

Rory shrugged. “She cares for the Campbell.”

“They are cousins.”

“It runs deeper than that,” Rory said, “but that is not why I am here.”

“I was wondering about that,” Lachlan said easily. “You do not often seek me out, or ask my advice.”

“’Tis not advice I need. Have you told anyone who Felicia really is?”

“Nay. You told me not to.”

“I am pleased someone listens.”

“Everyone listens,” Lachlan replied wryly. “They simply may not agree. They have their own ideas.”

“Like abducting a Campbell,” Rory responded.

“That was a mistake.”

Rory’s gaze speared him. “There is no discipline here. No order. What in God’s name have you been doing?”

“I did not ask you or Patrick to leave,” Lachlan reminded him. “I have no authority while you and Patrick are still alive.”

Rory was silent.

“Are you sending her back to Dunstaffnage?” Lachlan asked.

“Not immediately.”

“Am I permitted to ask why?”

“She ran away because her uncle ordered her marriage to the Earl of Morneith.”

Lachlan searched back in his mind for everything he knew about the man. They often had minstrels and storytellers stop at Inverleith. In exchange for a meal and a few coins, they would sing a song and carry the news.

Morneith had been the subject of those tales more than once. He had to be three times Felicia’s age and was known for hanging tenants who poached on his land.

He waited to hear more.

“It was no escapade as the Campbell said. She was trying to get to London to find him. She thought he might help her.”

“And she ran into us, instead.”

“That is one way of putting it.”

Lachlan phrased the next comment carefully. “It is one thing to hold a Cameron. Another to hold a Campbell.”

“It is worse than that. The marriage was arranged by the king.”

Lachlan’s fingers tightened around the reins. A war with the Campbells would be disastrous, but with the king? The clan had no hope.

Rory had never confided in him until now. Before Rory had left for the sea so many years ago, Lachlan had been but a lad, one who had his mind in books rather than on the training field. Everyone had expected him to go into the church.

“What about the Campbell heir?”

“Campbell is opposed to the marriage as well, but there’s bloody little he can do about it.”

“And you?”

“There is something, but it could bring harm to Inverleith and our clan.”

“I think the harm is already here,” Lachlan said.

He saw the surprise in Rory’s eyes, and he ached at how much he wanted his brother’s approval. He’d never had it from his father.

“What do you mean?” Rory asked.

“You do not want to send her back.”

“Not to Morneith.”

“You are planning something?” Lachlan asked.

“Aye.”

Lachlan remained silent. He knew Rory well enough now to realize he was thinking aloud, that the words would come without prompting.

“I would have to trust the Campbell,” Rory said. “What did you think of him?”

Lachlan was startled that Rory asked his opinion. He considered an answer for a few moments. “He reminds me of you,” he said finally.

Rory crooked an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“A little of both,” Lachlan replied. “Neither of you betray much of what you are thinking. But he came after her alone. He obviously has a strong sense of loyalty, if he was willing to come on Maclean land to look for Felicia without escort.”

“More foolhardy than loyal,” Rory replied caustically.

Lachlan shrugged.

“You like Jan … Felicia,” Rory continued.

“Aye.”

“It does not bother you she is a Campbell?”

“’Tis not her fault.”

“Nay, it is not,” Rory agreed.

Lachlan waited again. Rory was mulling something over and obviously wanted someone to listen.

“I have information about Morneith but no proof,” his brother finally said. “I do not know the man, and I have to be here if we are to keep the Campbell lass. But someone might be able to tempt him into making a mistake.”

Lachlan sat up in his seat. He had feared Rory might take his anger out on the woman. Instead, he wanted to help her. He had been wrong once again about motives.

“You want me—”

“I am thinking about the Campbell. ’Tis obvious he cares about his cousin. And who better to approach Morneith than a member of his future family? No one would suspect he would be in league with us.”

“Will he agree?”

Rory shrugged. “He indicated he might, but I would want someone near him. Someone I do trust.”

Lachlan’s hope had come tumbling down seconds ago. He did not want to raise it only to have it smashed again. He wanted his self-respect back. He wanted trust returned.

He nodded.

Rory did not say anything else. Instead he spurred his horse into a trot, leaving Lachlan to follow.

Jamie paced the room restlessly. True, it was better than the hole down below with its cold dank walls that had felt like a coffin. Still, the walls closed in on him here.

He loathed being at the mercy of the Macleans.

He had seen the results of their raids. He had also been responsible for raids on their lands, just not the most recent ones. They were the despised enemies. Barbarians.

They had taken his cousin.

He had been promised a visit, and yet there had been none.

He went to the window and looked out. The courtyard was busy. Men were bringing in animals or wheelbarrows full of belongings. Children were playing in one corner.

Inverleith was preparing for a siege.

He thought about the conversation he’d had earlier with the Maclean leader. He knew little about Rory Maclean except he was the second son of the old laird and that rumor had it he once led a raid in which women and children were killed. It did not bode well.

Yet he had not been left in the cold, wet hole where he’d first been imprisoned, and even there he had been allowed blankets and food. Here, he’d had a good meal along with a jug of reasonably good wine.

He’d also found himself almost liking the Maclean and his wry sense of humor, even when it was aimed at Campbells. He seemed protective of Felicia, even after discovering she was a Campbell. He wondered what had happened in the time his cousin had been here.

It really did not matter. There was no way a Maclean and a Campbell could ever wed after that despicable deed more than a hundred years ago. Nor would he want his cousin to wed one. He was not a superstitious man, but it was true that many Maclean brides had died early. The curse had taken on a life of its own.

In any event, his father would never allow such a union. Never. It would mean war, and his cousin would understand that.

His gaze searched the defenses of Inverleith. Walls were fifteen feet thick and sixty in height. It would be no easy matter to take the keep.

The only weakness appeared to be a lack of trained men. But then they might well be out patrolling Maclean boundaries.

He swore silently at his helplessness and started pacing again.

Rory entered through the gates into the courtyard. Douglas and Archibald appeared to be doing a good job preparing Inverleith. Herds of animals were grazing just outside, and some had been taken inside the gates. Training continued in the courtyard. The sentries on the wall had been doubled.

He and Lachlan dismounted, gave their reins to the young stable lad, and went into the tower.

The ride had relieved some of the tension that had built inside him. He had become increasingly confident that his plan could work.

They stopped by Felicia’s room first. She was poring over a book, and with a start he recognized it. Caesar’s Gallic Wars in the original Latin.

She glanced up as the door opened, and her lips spread into a smile when she saw Lachlan, then her brows knitted together as her gaze met Rory’s. And held.

He was still charmed by the deep rich blue of those eyes, even as he knew he had not been included in the glance that flashed between his brother and the Campbell lass.

“You can see your cousin, Lady Felicia,” he said. He kept his voice cool and emotionless, even though, as usual, the sight of her brought a flooding warmth through his body.

She stood, relief eloquent on her face. Had she thought he had lied to her earlier when he’d assured her that James Campbell was unharmed?

“Thank you,” she said.

“How is Alina?”

“She is sleeping. It is the best thing for her.”

She looked at Lachlan, her eyes questioning. Rory realized she had not seen him since her transformation from a Cameron to a Campbell.

Lachlan gave her an encouraging smile, then approached her. “My lady,” he said.

Her tentative smile became a grateful one, and something tugged at Rory’s heart. He recalled how difficult it had been to control his emotions, his mixture of anger and dismay even as he’d wanted to reach out and touch her with gentleness, not with that sudden angry kiss.

But it was just as well that he had. He had to keep away from her, even as she had to stay here until his plan worked.

Or failed.

He went back to the door and held it wide. “My lady,” he said in a voice that sounded cold even to him.

She glanced toward Lachlan. He nodded.

He wanted that smile for himself. God’s eyes, but he knew something was very wrong when he was bedeviled with jealousy of both his enemy and his brother.

He hurried his pace to the steps, then led the way up. The guard posted at the door stepped aside.

“Any trouble?” Rory asked.

“Nay, milord.”

Rory opened the door.

The Campbell whirled around, saw Felicia, and his frown turned into a cautious smile.

Felicia was not as constrained. She ran over to him, looked at him for a moment, as if to make sure he had not been treated poorly, then hugged him. Then she stepped back and looked again. Rory saw her gaze go over the man’s gashes and bruises.

The Campbell looked uncomfortable under her gaze. “They are nothing,” he said dismissively. “Are you unharmed? If the Macleans did anything …?”

“Nay. They have been kind.”

Campbell’s green eyes glittered. “They have been holding you against your will.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to stay. It was … safe.”

Campbell looked at her with worry and doubt carved in his face. It was clear that though he had seemed to accept some of what Rory had said earlier, he had not been convinced.

The knife turned inside Rory. The two Campbells were looking at each other with an affection that he had known only too rarely.

“A nice reunion,” he said. “Now that you both know the other is alive and basically unharmed, Lady Felicia will return to her room.”

She whirled around and looked at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I want to talk with your cousin.” He found himself stressing the word cousin.”

“I want to stay.”

“That is not possible.”

“Why?”

Rory turned to Lachlan. “Take the lady back to her chamber.”

Lachlan sighed. “Aye.”

“Put someone at her door to make sure she does not leave the chamber. Then return.”

“I won’t go,” she said.

“I can carry you,” Rory said.

The Campbell took a step toward him.

Rory saw Felicia’s gaze move from his face to her cousin’s. She bit her lip, then surrendered. “I will go,” she said. “But I want to see Jamie again.”

Jamie. Not James. Not cousin.

“We will see,” Rory said.

She glared at him. All the softness that he had once seen in her eyes was gone. Anger glittered in them. Then she seemed to cloak herself in that outrage. Her back stiffened, and she walked out.

Lachlan arched an eyebrow, then followed.

“Was that necessary?” the Campbell asked.

“Aye, unless you want to put her in even more danger than she is now.”

“I do not ken your meaning.”

“I have learned much about Lady Felicia in the past days. If you accept my proposal, it is far better she knows nothing about it, or she will want to play a part. That could be very dangerous.”

Campbell’s silence was answer enough.

“Sit down,” Rory said.

“I do not care to.”

“Then I will,” Rory said, taking the one chair in the room.

“What is your proposal?” Campbell asked. He stood at the window and looked out.

“Inverleith is impregnable,” Rory said, reading his thoughts.

“Aye, if you choose to assault from without,” Campbell said. “But it can be a prison in itself.”

“I am fully aware of that.”

“You know my father will mount a siege if my cousin isn’t returned. The king will give his approval. Every clan who had ever felt wronged by the Macleans would join us.”

“They would not risk your life.”

“If I were you, I would not wager the future of the Maclean clan on it. My father feels deeply about honor.”

“Honor?” Rory asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Campbells?”

The Campbell glared at him. “We have never chained a woman to a rock to drown.”

Rory felt the familiar wave of shame that such an incident had occurred in his family. Still, the Campbells had as long and horrific a list of infamies.

He shrugged. “We both have relatives we cannot defend. But we both have much to lose as well.”

Campbell sat on the table. “What do you have to offer?”

“I know who in the English court has given Morneith money. If you dangle that in front of him, he will have to act.”

“And why would I do that?”

“You do not want him to marry your cousin.”

“Why would he believe I would defy the king and my father for Felicia?”

“Not only for Felicia. For money as well.”

“You want me to play a traitor?”

“Aye. It is the only way. I thought you wanted to help your cousin, or is she just a poor relation?”

Anger flared in Campbell’s face, but he controlled it. “She is far more than that.”

Rory wanted to explore that now, but that would be naught but self-torture. He had what he needed. The Campbell did indeed care deeply about Felicia. He would have to rely on that.

“Why me?” Campbell asked.

“Because soon all of Scotland will know that Felicia Campbell is here. I cannot leave now. And the words coming from a Campbell would have far more weight than if they were to come from the person who was holding the man’s intended bride as hostage.”

“You plan to keep her here then.”

“Unless you wish her to wed Morneith.”

“How do I know I can trust you? You might be leading me into a trap.”

“If you have not noticed, I have you. I do not particularly want you, but I will keep you if I must to save my people. Trapping Morneith solves both our problems. The king should be most grateful to you for revealing a traitor, and there would no longer be a question of a marriage to Morneith.”

“And you? What do you get out of this?”

“Peace. That is what I came back to do.

“Peace?” Campbell’s brows shot up as he regarded Rory with a penetrating gaze.

“This feud between our two clans benefits neither of us. It only hurts our tenants.”

“How do you think we can trap Morneith?”

“Go to Edinburgh. Drop a name to one of his retainers. Wait until he tries to reach you. Then arrange a meeting place where a king’s man can listen. Draw him out. Let him condemn himself.”

“And you?”

“I will keep Lady Felicia here. She will be safe. If you need me at any time, send a messenger.”

“Who?”

“One of my people. He will stay where you can reach him.”

“You do not trust me?”

“As long as I have Felicia, yes. And you may need help.”

“And you will give it?”

“I will do what I can.”

“That is comforting,” the Campbell said sarcastically.

“Make no mistake. I wish I could take your place. If I could find a way, I would leave you in the cell below. But as the son of Campbell, you have access to Morneith that I do not.”

Campbell stood. “You are risking much in defying the king and keeping Felicia here.”

Rory did not reply.

“Why?”

“I told you. I feel responsible for your cousin.”

Campbell studied him for a long time. “I am not sure it is safe here for her.”

“It is the only safe place in Scotland for her at the moment.”

“You will pledge her safety?”

“Aye.”

“I will destroy you if she is harmed,” Campbell said, then emphasized, “in any way.”

A knock came at the door. Rory opened it. Lachlan entered.

Rory ignored Campbell. “Join us, Lachlan. I have just explained everything to Campbell.”

Lachlan looked at Campbell. “You have agreed?”

Campbell hesitated. He looked from Rory to Lachlan and finally nodded.

“Your word?”

“Aye.”

Rory felt a fleeting moment of triumph, but with it came the knowledge that the plan, such as it was, was dependent on the deceptive skills of a Campbell. He wanted to be in the midst of it. He did not want to be the puppet master, looking on from afar. Nor did he wish to stay here in the close proximity of Felicia Campbell.

“It is done then.”

“How do I leave here?”

That was a problem Rory had not quite figured out yet.

“I will help him escape,” Lachlan said.

They both turned and stared at him.

“I will have two horses saddled. Campbell can wear a helmet and one of my plaids. I will tell the sentries that we have been sent on an urgent errand.”

Rory narrowed his eyes. “You will look the traitor.”

“Aye,” Lachlan said. “But it is a way I can stay at his side.” He smiled crookedly. “I have reason if discovered. You usurped my place and took our clan down a dangerous path by taking Lady Felicia. The Campbell promised me and the clan protection.”

It would have been a lie if Rory said he had not thought of that. But he could not ask Lachlan to take on the mantle of traitor.

“It is the only way, Rory,” Lachlan said quietly.

Rory glanced at Campbell who was listening intently. “Campbell?”

The man nodded.

“You made an oath to destroy me if anything happened to Lady Felicia,” Rory said through clenched teeth. “Now I make one to you. If anything happens to my brother, you had better never venture away from Dunstaffnage again.”

Campbell shrugged. “You have what I want. I will have what you want. A counterbalance for both of us.”

Rory felt sick. Lachlan would not only risk his life, but his place as a Maclean.

“She means that much to you?” Rory asked.

“It seems so,” Lachlan said lightly.

Rory looked at both men.

The Campbell nodded reluctantly.

Rory felt the sand slipping from beneath him.

He truly did not want this.

But he could see no other choice.