Beloved Impostor Page 14

  She wanted to hold on to him.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, prayed for the strength she knew she needed. Not physical strength but the strength to leave him and go to another man.

  They were still for a moment, as if caught in a painting.

  Then he slid in the seat, nearly taking her down with him. She heard him mumbling. It sounded like an oath.

  She felt like uttering one herself. Duty and need, truth and lies were tearing her apart.

  Her gaze returned to his face. He was regarding her with frustrated need, combined with pain.

  She felt his brow. It was not as hot as it had been earlier, though it was warmer than natural. Perhaps rest and Moira’s magic were working. She prayed so.

  “Eat, my lord,” she said.

  “Moira’s soup?” he said.

  “Aye, but I added a few herbs.”

  He tasted it, winced.

  “I had hoped it would be improved,” she said, though she had tasted it as well and found little improvement. Still, she had hoped.

  “It is,” he replied, but she saw the lie for what it was. She wished now that she had not allowed herself to be dismissed from the Dunstaffnage kitchen so easily. To be truthful, she had not tried overly hard. She would rather drive an arrow with a bow.

  She should find a way to depart the keep before it was impossible. Yet she wanted these few moments with him. She wanted far more. She wanted to assure herself that he would defeat the fever. How could she leave without knowing that?

  How could she not leave?

  He stopped eating, and his gaze met hers.

  “We need to talk, my lady,” he said.

  She had heard enough outside the door to know what he wanted to talk about. How could she sit there and allow him to agonize over choices that were necessary only because of her reckless adventure?

  She did not say anything.

  “Do you wish to marry James Campbell?” he said.

  How could she say aye, when she had kissed him so passionately so recently?

  “It does not matter what I want,” she said. “I am only a woman. My … family makes that decision.”

  “Many women marry for love.”

  “Do they?” she asked skeptically. “I think they are few.”

  “Then you do not love the Campbell?”

  She did, but not the way he meant. She did not know how to reply, but he apparently took her silence for agreement.

  “Lachlan seems to think you may be reluctant. Or afraid.”

  “You have talked to him?”

  “Only briefly, when I first returned.”

  She was silent again.

  “Is Campbell a monster then?”

  “Nay.”

  A muscle in his jaw worked. “Then do you fear returning because you have spent time here, without a chaperon?”

  Her gaze met his, and she knew hers must be roiling with emotion. She did not want to lie to him. Not even by omission. He was not the kind of man who tolerated dishonesty. She had already seen and heard enough to know he had not wanted to return, but did so because of duty. She knew he had loved well and had given his heart.

  She’d learned all that about Rory Maclean in a week’s time.

  She also realized he would never forgive her if lies brought death to his clan.

  But she had to lie to save him. “Nay, I do not fear that,” she said.

  His gaze was unwavering, as he searched her face.

  “And I do love James Campbell. We had an argument. I ran away because I wanted to think … and it was an adventure.”

  “You want to return then?”

  “Aye.” Her heart was breaking.

  She was still standing, and he stood. Again she saw what the effort cost him. But he stepped closer to her and brushed his lips against hers. The unwounded arm went around her and pulled her closer.

  She trembled from the resulting waves of sensation that swept over her, that raced through her body. She felt the rising and falling of his chest, his heart beat, the lingering heat from the fever.

  She must have the fever as well. This was madness.

  With a lump in her throat and sick emptiness in her stomach, she knew he was seeking the truth, and the truth was one thing she could not offer him.

  His lips moved slowly, sensuously, across her face, awakening even more sensations both gentle and fierce. Then they turned questioning, asking questions she could not answer.

  His lips pressed harder, this time demanding not asking. She knew suddenly that she had been waiting all her life for this warmth, this wanting.

  She heard a soft groan, and his lips became seeking, as if he, too, were trying to find his way in an unknown thicket of tangled emotions. Anger was at the edge of them, but the core was pure, raw desire.

  Fear squeezed her heart. She could not love this man. She could not.

  Pull away!

  She felt a sudden wetness on her cheeks, a growing tightness behind her eyes.

  He stilled, then slowly released her lips. His eyes reflected a sorrow that stabbed to the core of her being. He lowered his arm, and he looked weary and defeated.

  “You must sit, my lord.”

  He said nothing but went to the bed and sat down, his hand catching hers. “I am sorry, lass. I had no right. I wanted to know the truth of it. I wanted to know if you truly loved the Campbell.”

  “And you know now?” she said. Her voice sounded strange even to her. Husky. Hoarse with emotion and need and sadness.

  “Aye. I do not think you love him.”

  “Because you kissed me?”

  “Because of the way you kissed me, lass.”

  “And you had no feeling at all?”

  His hand tightened around hers. “Aye, I did. But I have had no luck at marriage, and my wives have had less luck. I will no’ be passing on death to another.”

  “Will you tell me about them? You kept calling for Maggie.”

  His mouth tightened, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. The dimple in his chin seemed to deepen. “She died in childbirth, as did the child. She loved life and laughter, and she did no’ deserve her fate.”

  His face was a study in pain and guilt. Her heart broke. Did his pain come from the Campbell curse, or his belief in it?

  He lifted the finger of his good hand and wiped away a tear from her face. “I should no’ be burdening you with this,” he said. “It is enough that I cannot marry again, and I want you to be safe. I wish I knew how to make it so.”

  The uncertainty of a certain man touched her to the core. She had never met anyone who cared as much as he did for his people. For his sense of honor. For her.

  Except Jamie.

  She touched his face. It was still warm. She knew he was still in pain.

  Well, she would have her own honor as well. “I will go home,” she said. “I wish to go alone. Now.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “You cannot go alone. You are my responsibility. I want to know that you will not be hurt because of something we did. I have sent someone to the Camerons.”

  And he will know that Janet Cameron is at home.

  “It is not your fault,” she said. “And Archibald thought he was doing a fine thing.”

  He shook his head. “They think wives are like saddles. Lose one and gain another.”

  Most men did. At least, that had been her observation. It was her fortune—or misfortune—to find the one who did not. And he was forbidden to her for so many reasons.

  She lifted her chin. If he would not let her leave, then she would have to find a way. It seemed more than a little ironic, that not long ago he had wanted her to leave and she had been plotting how to stay.

  Chapter 12

  Jamie first checked the caves he’d introduced to Felicia years ago. Finding nothing—not Felicia nor any sign of her presence—he rode to the Cameron property bordering Maclean territory. He carefully crossed a tiny swath of McDonald land, a clan hostile to the Campbells.
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br />   His horse was exhausted and dark with sweat when he reached the Cameron’s keep. Immediately after identifying himself, he was admitted through the thick gates.

  Janet’s father was in Edinburgh along with Jamie’s, involved in more court intrigue, no doubt. But Janet’s mother, Lady Jane Cameron, greeted him effusively. “You have returned,” she said. “We can plan the wedding then.”

  “Aye, Lady Jane,” he said. “And I am most anxious to see your daughter.”

  Lady Jane nodded. “Of course. I am pleased that there is eagerness between you. I wished a love match for her.”

  “I will try to make her happy.”

  A frown marred Lady Jane’s lovely face. “She has been unlike herself since her return.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  “Nay. Only regret that she missed you at Dunstaffnage.”

  “I regretted it as well,” he said. So she had said nothing about Felicia’s disappearance. He wondered that the escort had apparently said naught about the escape of their charge, but then if they had retrieved their rightful lady, the men probably would not admit to being outfoxed by a woman or overtaken by brigands.

  If Janet had said nothing, she must have had a reason. He decided to say naught about his cousin’s disappearance until he talked to her.

  I will have supper prepared for you,” Lady Jane said. “And I will send her to you now.”

  “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 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.