Beloved Impostor

by Patricia Potter

  “Aye?”

  “Did ye kill them?”

  “They were gone when we arrived here,” Rory said.

  Shouts of joy interrupted them, as three of the villagers, one of them Alex’s father, reached him. The villager stood in front of his son, stunned at his good fortune. He reached out a hand and placed it on his son’s shoulder.

  The boy did not look at him. “I hid,” he said with shame.

  “Thank God, ye did,” his father said. “John?”

  “He is above.”

  Minutes later, Rory examined John’s shoulder. The boy was weak from loss of blood, but Alex had bound it tightly enough to stanch the flow.

  John tried to struggle to his feet, but fell back. Rory prayed the wound would not become infected. It needed to be stitched, but he had nothing with which to do it, nor was any needle or thread left in the village. Everything was gone.

  He would help make a temporary shelter for those few villagers who refused to leave, then return to Inverleith with those who wanted the safety of the Maclean keep. He would send men back with them later, along with carpenters and a blacksmith. He leaned down and took John in his arms, then looked at Alex. “You saved his life,” Rory said. “You used your head. Be proud.”

  He looked at his father, who gave him the slightest of nods.

  Rory knew it would be a long ride for tired horses, but he was anxious to get back.

  He had reason to live again, and that reason was the lives and fortunes of the clan, which had been entrusted to him. He hadn’t wanted war with the Campbells. He had meant to do everything to avoid it.

  But if war was what they wanted, he was prepared to meet them.

  He only hoped that Janet Cameron, as the intended bride of a Campbell, would not be caught in the middle.

  She would be on her way home now, if she had not already arrived back at the Camerons’ keep.

  It was best for everyone.

  He wished he really believed that.

  Jamie Campbell neared Dunstaffnage. He had finished his errand in London far quicker than he’d thought. He had gone to reassure King Henry’s court that James had no hostile intent toward England and hoped the two countries could live in peace.

  At the same time, he knew James had no intention of keeping a peace with England, not with the constant raids between the borders. But that was not his concern. He had relayed the message.

  Janet would be pleased. So, he admitted, was he. He had enjoyed the freedom of being his own man. He had resisted the notion of marriage because he was determined that when he did wed, he would be faithful. He felt that honor demanded it.

  His mother had turned into an embittered, unhappy woman because his father had no such inhibitions. He openly kept a mistress in Edinburgh and was a well-known lecher.

  But Jamie had grown close to Janet these past few months as he had advanced his suit. He had always been attracted to her, and the alliance was good for both clans. He had agreed because he wanted to please his father, and then he had found himself looking forward to the marriage.

  His intended wife was gentle and well bred. Yet she had the capacity to surprise him. That she and his wayward cousin had become fast friends fascinated him. He could not imagine two women more unalike.

  Felicia should have been a lad. She was stubborn and adventurous and had endless curiosity about all things. She had a special love for astronomy, which had amused him. So had her competitive spirit. In a rare moment of whimsy, he had agreed to teach her sword-play. He had not expected her to practice for hours, and days, and even months. If she had more strength in her arms, she would be formidable. As it was, she could give an average swordsman a contest in the short run.

  He did worry about her. She would make a poor wife for most men. She disliked womanly activities. She challenged ideas and thoughts and perceptions. It would take a rare man indeed to appreciate her.

  He smiled as his thoughts shifted back to Janet. She, too, surprised him endlessly. She listened and absorbed far more than anyone thought, even as she was gracious and knowledgeable about running households. He was amazed at how much he wanted to see her again. How he had ridden so hard to return to her.

  His body hardened as he thought of their wedding night. They had exchanged stolen kisses, nothing more. But she had never shied away. She was eager and receptive, and he yearned to teach her the depths of passion.

  A furlong or more and he would be home. He wondered if Janet was still there. He knew she had planned to stay only a few weeks, and he’d been riding night and day to get home.

  He heard the sound of hoofbeats ahead.

  He guided his horse off the road and into the woods, then stepped back out when he recognized Campbell colors.

  “Lord James,” said the leader as he pulled up his horse. “We did not expect you.”

  “You seem in a hurry?”

  The leader looked uncomfortable.

  Apprehension filled him. “You have bad news?”

  The leader looked at the man beside him, then shifted in his saddle. “Lady Felicia has disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “She seems to have spirited herself away.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  The man swallowed hard. “I am not sure, my lord. I know only that she apparently took Lady Janet’s place in the escort to take her home. The escort … ah … lost her.”

  “Why would she take Janet’s place?”

  The man shrugged helplessly.

  “Come man, tell me.”

  “I only heard the rumors.”

  “What are the rumors then?”

  “Her uncle pledged her hand in wedlock to the Earl of Morneith.”

  “Morneith?” God’s teeth, but he understood his cousin’s flight. He knew Morneith. How could his father have condemned Felicia to a man like that?

  “And there has been no sign of my cousin?”

  “Nay.”

  “For how long?”

  “Eight days now.”

  “God’s blood,” he said. “You have no idea where she might have gone?”

  “Nay.”

  “And did Lady Janet aid Lady Felicia’s flight?

  The guard shrugged. “Lady Felicia drugged her and took her place.”

  “They look nothing alike.”

  “It was a cold, rainy morning.”

  And he knew his cousin. She would venture anything.

  “Has Lady Janet returned home?”

  “Aye.”

  “And my father does not know about my cousin?”

  Again silence.

  They were obviously afraid to deliver the bad news to his father. That came as no surprise. His father did not like incompetence.

  “And William?”

  William was his father’s steward. He might not be much longer if Felicia was not found. William would be very aware of that. He apparently was praying that he would find Felicia before he had to report her disappearance.

  “We have searched the countryside,” the soldier said. “We have scoured the forests, sent messengers to the Camerons and other clans. We even searched Maclean lands since they are near Camerons. She has just … disappeared.”

  “You think the Macleans could be responsible?”

  “There has been no demand for ransom, but it is possible.”

  Fear spiked in his chest. Felicia had been more than a cousin to him. She had been sister and friend. He had vowed as a lad to always protect her. God help anyone who tried to harm her.

  “I am returning to Dunstaffnage to have a word with William,” he said.

  “We will continue to search the caves south of here.”

  “Maclean properties?”

  The man spat on the ground. “We already visited them.”

  Jamie stiffened. “And found nothing?”

  “Nay, naught but cattle.”

  “I would not like anything to happen to my cousin because of something Campbells did.” />
  “Macleans are nothing. They would no’ dare to take a Campbell.”

  Jamie did not think so, either. The Macleans had weakened over the past years, but neither did he want to revive a feud. King James wanted the clans united to prevent any aggression by the English. He had made it clear that he would not tolerate private feuds.

  “Continue your search,” he said. He went around them and, with a slight flick of the reins, urged his horse into a trot, then a canter toward Dunstaffnage. He wanted to learn more from William.

  He had to find Felicia.

  Chapter 10

  Totally exhausted by three days with little sleep and most of that caught while riding, Rory reached the walls of Inverleith in mid-afternoon.

  After finding the lads yesterday morning, he’d helped build a temporary shelter for the few remaining villagers before leaving with the boy at sunset. He then rode most of the night.

  The horn announced his arrival. He was surprised—but grateful—when he saw grooms awaiting them. It was the first time he had seen any efficiency.

  John, his arm in a sling to keep pressure off his shoulder, rested against him. Rory knew from his own past injuries that the lad was probably in agony with every movement, but John had not complained.

  The boy’s father had remained behind. He did not know how to ride, and Rory wanted to get John to the keep as quickly as possible. Alex stayed behind as well, as did Ian, who was to stay with the villagers until Rory could send additional men.

  Rory slid down from his mount. Ignoring the growing pain in his arm from the slingshot, he lowered John who stood unsteadily for a moment.

  Douglas appeared, and his gaze moved from Rory to the lad. “You found them then?”

  “Aye, both boys are alive, though John here needs Moira’s skills.”

  “The other wounded are in the great hall,” Douglas said. “I will fetch Moira, or the Cameron lass.”

  “The Cameron lass?” Rory had tried not to think about Janet Cameron these last hours. He’d thought he would not see her again. Lachlan had been told to return her home.

  “Aye, she has been helping with the wounded.”

  “Lachlan was to take her back,” he said, his voice harsh, even as he found himself unexpectedly eager to see her again.

  Douglas shrugged. “The fever returned, and then the wounded came. She has healing skills, and we needed her.”

  “God’s eyes, does no one heed my orders?”

  “I did not feel we should endanger her,” Douglas said, “no’ with Campbell raiding parties roving about. They might well attack before they knew who she was. And we canna lose any more men, not if you want the villages guarded.”

  Douglas paused, then added, “And we needed Lady Janet. She was helpful in treating the wounded. The wee lass might lose her leg, and she clings to Lady Janet. I could not send her away, even if we could spare the escort.”

  “We will need far more men than we have if the Camerons join the Campbells to attack us.”

  “Just another day,” Douglas insisted. “Alina needs her.”

  “God’s blood, a soft spot, Douglas?”

  “She’s but a wee lass,” Douglas defended himself. “And there have been no alarms about a missing Cameron lass. They are perhaps still searching for her somewhere in the hills.”

  “She leaves tomorrow,” Rory said. “I will take her myself. I would today but …”

  “You look as if you need rest.” Douglas’s gaze went to the bloodied sleeve of his shirt. “’Tis your blood and not the lad’s?”

  “’Tis nothing. One of the lads thought I was a Campbell.”

  “I will have Moira look at it.”

  “Nay, the lad comes first. I will see Lady Janet.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Rory was suspicious when Douglas used the tide. He did not care to be manipulated, and he had discovered in the weeks he’d been back that when Douglas used the tide, he usually had a purpose in mind, one that Rory would not like.

  But he was too weary at the moment to question him further.

  He put his hand on John’s shoulder and led him toward the door.

  Already alerted, Moira was waiting as he and the lad entered. She quickly undid the wrapping around the lad’s wound and looked at it. “I think I can sew it together,” she said. “We have no need to burn it.”

  She had a clansman fetch another pallet to join those of a half-dozen other men on the floor.

  She turned to Rory, her gaze resting on his sleeve, which was now rust-colored with dried blood. “Now yer turn, milord.” She rolled up the flowing sleeve of Rory’s shirt and looked at his arm. His gaze followed hers. The small wound was ugly-looking, the skin around it red and angry.

  “What happened, milord?”

  “A slingshot,” he replied wryly. “Finish with the lad first. You can tend mine later.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she merely shrugged. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “Is Lady Janet in her chamber?”

  “Aye, or in the chamber next to hers. Milady insisted that the young lass and her mother stay there. More comfortable, she said.”

  Insisted. He smothered a smile. His father was probably turning over in his grave at the thought of crofters occupying his bed.

  He thought about bathing first, but some unwanted urge directed him to her chamber. He knew he looked like a brigand. His cheeks were rough with new beard, and his hair was uncombed. He smelled of horse sweat and blood.

  He knocked at the door, opened it slightly, and saw nothing. Then he heard the melody of a lullaby in the next chamber. He knew without seeing that it was Janet Cameron. Her voice was pure and strong and sweet. Some of his tension began to fade.

  When the song ended, he knocked lightly on the door. He heard a sharp bark and took it as an invitation, and entered. A small dog at Janet Cameron’s feet growled at him. His eyes went to her face.

  He had thought her appealing but not beautiful. But looking at her now, he changed his mind.

  Her sapphire-blue eyes were filled with compassion, and her lips curved in a gentle smile as she looked up from the child. Her eyes widened, and she started to rise, but he gestured her to sit back down.

  The woman seated on the other side of the bed also started to stand. “Milord,” she said.

  “Do not stand,” he commanded.

  She sat back down, consternation on her face, as if she worried that he would not approve of her and her daughter occupying such a fine room. He wondered whether he was really that forbidding.

  He knelt next to the small figure in the big bed. He ignored the small dog that growled at him.

  “Alina,” he said softly.

  The child’s wide brown eyes stared back at him. She tried to move, and he shook his head. “Stay as you are, lass. I just thought you and your mother would like to know we found your brother, Alex. He is well, and decided to stay with his fa to rebuild your croft. He is a brave lad.”

  “He is no’ hurt?” the mother asked anxiously.

  “Nay. His friend, John, was hurt, and Alex got him up a mountain to a place of safety. He was afraid to leave his friend alone.”

  “Is John … will he …?” The question came from Alicia.

  “I suspect he will recover. The lad apparently took on a troop of Campbells all on his own.” He looked down at the child. “But I want to know how you fare.”

  Alina’s thin face was drawn with pain. She looked at Janet for reassurance. Even protection. Against him.

  The child’s frightened look reminded him how long he had been away, how little they knew of him. When he was a lad, he had earned a reputation as a fierce fighter. It was a reputation he deeply regretted. He hoped that Janet would never learn of it.

  His gaze moved to Janet. She had been silent since he’d entered, but her eyes, which had been soft as she looked at the child, turned wary as she returned his glance.

  That hurt more than the throb in his shoulder. He remembered the ki
ss they’d shared, the soft touches, the passionate response. He thought he saw a flash of memory in her eyes as well.

  “I thought that you would be home,” he said. “Another apology is owed.”

  “Nay, I was ill. Then I was needed.”

  “Your family …”

  “My family is in Edinburgh, and the retainers are probably too frightened to inform them of my absence.”

  He had puzzled over the lack of any outcry. Perhaps her explanation answered that question.

  He swayed. God’s eyes, but he was weary.

  Lady Janet quickly stood. Her gaze went to his sleeve for the first time. “My lord, you are hurt.”

  “I only need a little rest.”

  “More than a little, I think,” she said.

  She smelled of flowers, and he was aware again of his appearance. “I should bathe,” he said. “But I wanted to see how the lass fared.” He told himself that was his purpose for coming here, but he’d not lied to himself in a very long time, and he did not wish to start now.

  The fact was that he had wanted to see Janet, that the past few days had done nothing to diminish his desire for her.

  She approached him and pulled up his sleeve. She breathed deeply when she saw his arm. “You have infection, my lord.” Her brow knitted as a tremor rocked his body.

  He took a step and realized his legs were weak. Janet caught him and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders.

  “Where is your chamber?” she asked.

  “Above,” he said. “I can walk alone.”

  “You cannot,” she said. “We can stand here and discuss it, or I can help you there.”

  He realized he might need her steadying presence. He did not particularly wish to fall on the floor in front of her. Or anyone else for that matter. And he was growing more light-headed by the minute.

  She took a step, and he moved with her. He tried to use her only to balance, but each step was becoming more and more difficult.

  She was surprisingly strong and steady. They reached the curving stone steps. They looked endless.

  A mere slingshot! It was humbling.

  One step at a time. He found himself leaning more and more on Janet.

  When they reached the top of the stairs and his chamber, he slipped his arm from her and fell rather than sat on his bed. Unlike those in her room and the laird’s chamber, his bed was narrow and hard, much like that on his ship.