Beloved Imposter (23 page)

The same expressions she had seen on the face of the Laird of Inverleith.

She did not know what she should have done differently. She could have tried harder to escape the keep, or she could have allowed herself to be taken to the Cameron keep. She might have told him sooner. But she simply had not known what he would do. She wished she had explained.

She no longer had his trust. Jamie might pay for her silence. She could not bear it if he were killed because of her actions.

Robina took one look at her hair, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my lady, what have ye done?” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth as if horrified by her utterance.

“It is all right, Robina,” Felicia said. “I know I look…”

Robina burst out in tears.

“I look that bad?” Felicia said.

“Yer hair, your bonny hair,” Robina wailed.

Felicia had never thought it bonny. It was untamable and too bright a color. In truth, her head felt very good without it.

“The lord …” Robina wailed again. It was obvious that she was among those who had harbored the unlikely hope that their lord and Janet Cameron would wed.

“The lord wishes nothing to do with me,” she said. “And I must tell you. I am not Janet Cameron.”

“Not Lady Cameron … ?”

“My name is Felicia Campbell.”

Robina’s mouth fell open. Her eyes grew even larger. “Camp … Camp … bell,” she stuttered.

“Aye, but it does not change what I am,” Felicia said softly.

“But, but… how …”

“Archibald took me by mistake, and I feared telling anyone.”

Robina’s face filled with confusion. “The Campbell the lord just brought in—”

“He is my cousin. I suspect he was searching for me.” She paused. “I will understand if you no longer wish to serve me.”

Robina shook her head. “No, milady. Ye are a kind soul. I saw it with Alina. Ye canna pretend that kind of caring. I will heat some water for yer bath and wash yer hair. Ah, milady, yer hair,” she wailed again. She started to cry, and Felicia sensed it was more because of her shorn hair than the fact she was a Campbell.

Felicia wondered how many others would share that generous feeling.

And how could she bathe in comfort when Jamie was locked in some dungeon? If only she could see him. If only she could help him…

Instead, she took Robina’s hand. “Thank you.”

The girl bobbed, then hurried out the door.

Felicia went to the small, steel mirror and looked at herself. She had not had the heart to do it earlier. Truly she must be a terrible sight to make Robina react so.

And she was.

Jamie would be as horrified as Robina. Strange that Rory had not seemed to share that distaste. His horror came from the fact she was a Campbell. He had not seemed to care about her hair.

Felicia brushed it and ashes fell around her.

A bath first, then she would see Alina. She would scare the child to death if she appeared now.

She felt a little like death herself. The chill had not left her, nor had the great void left by Rory’s rejection been filled by Robina’s generosity.

Felicia took off the lad’s clothing and wrapped herself in the nightrobe Moira had provided her days ago, then went to the window and looked out. A small group of horsemen were waiting for the gate to open. Each one was inspected by Archibald. Not so much as a mouse could leave without permission.

Robina returned, followed by several clansmen with buckets of water. They filled the wooden tub that was kept in the small room off the chamber. All of them cast quick glances at her, but she did not know whether it was because of her hair or because they knew who she truly was. She saw no antagonism, no hatred in their faces, only respect and curiosity. She decided it was her hair. They could not know.

When the men left, Felicia sank into the water, and Robina washed her hair, then, when Felicia left the tub and put on a chemise and gown. Robina brushed her hair dry.

Next she would see Alina and try to explain to the child and her mother. She did not wish them to hear from someone else if, indeed, they had not already.

Robina stepped back and looked at her critically. ” ‘Tis really not so bad now, milady.”

Not so bad
. Faint assurance. Mayhap Morneith would be so appalled he would refuse her.

She recalled the way Rory had touched her hair, even crusted with ash, almost as if… he cared about her. There had not been Robina’s horror.

But there
had
been anger. Deep anger and betrayal.

Would he take it out on Jamie? She did not think so. She would not think that of a man who had spent a day hunting for a lad, then riding all night to get him to Inverleith.

But she was only too aware of the hatred between the clans.

Hate twisted people. Had it done that to Rory Maclean?

She turned back to Robina, who eyed her warily, obviously wondering again if she had said the wrong thing.

“Thank you, Robina.” Felicia took the few steps to her and took her hand. “You have been a true friend.”

“A friend, milady?”

“Aye.”

Robina smiled slowly.

“I am going to Alina,” Felicia said. “I must tell her.”

Robina nodded. “Her mother is helping in the kitchen. Alina is alone.”

Felicia steeled herself. She would talk to Alina, then try to find out something about Jamie. If she must, she would beg to be allowed to see him.

Perhaps Lachlan?

But then Lachlan had not been to see her. Perhaps he, too, felt betrayed.

Felicia steeled herself and opened the door. There was no guard, but she had no doubt that Macleans had been warned to watch out for her if she wandered away from the two rooms allowed her.

She opened the door to Alina’s room. The child was alone, and sleeping. Felicia touched her forehead. It was cool to the touch. Her breathing was easier.

Hopefully the pain had subsided as well.

Not wanting to wake her from much-needed sleep, Felicia sat down in a chair, and waited.

Rory accompanied James Campbell up the steps to the kitchen. Ignoring her wide-eyed stare at the Campbell, Rory ordered a maidservant to bring food and goblets up to Patrick’s old chamber. He led the way up the steps to the third level. He stopped at his chamber to fetch the jug of wine as the Campbell waited in the doorway, and then he opened the door of the chamber next to his.

It was as spartan as Rory’s own. His father had believed that comfort would lead to softness. But it was certainly an improvement over the dungeon.

Once inside, Campbell looked around the room. There was a small window set deep in the stone walls, a narrow bed, wardrobe, and chest for clothes. A small, battered table with two uncomfortable-looking chairs completed the furnishings. Wall brackets with candles were set into the stone walls.

The fireplace looked as if it had been unattended for decades. Ashes still littered its floor. The smell of dust was heavy in the room.

Rory was in no mood to apologize. Instead, he lowered the jug of wine to the table. “Sit down,” he said.

Campbell started to say something, a protest most likely, then apparently decided better of it. He sat.

“You will stay in the room for the time being,” Rory said. “There will be a guard outside.”

“I gave my word,” the Campbell protested.

“Aye, but forgive me if I do not wish to rely entirely on it,” Rory said wryly. “It’s for your protection as well. Several of my clansmen would enjoy plunging their dirks into you.”

“I fear no Maclean.”

“No? Well,
I
fear the consequences if you were slain in Inverleith.” Rory knew he probably should not have admitted the last, but if there was any solution to this devil’s mess, it would be only with the Campbell’s help. “Not only for Macleans,” he added, “but for Campbells.”

The Campbell raised an eyebrow as if in doubt.

“I have been away, but even so I know James is worried about Henry, and war looms between the two countries. James does not want the clans fighting amongst themselves. It would require a protracted siege to take Inverleith. You know it, and the king knows it. He would not want two armies poised against each other if Henry invades.”

The Campbell was listening.

The next part would be more difficult. Much more difficult.

“And then there is your cousin.”

The Campbell’s mouth thinned.

“Did you know about her betrothal to the Earl of Morneith?”

“She told you?”

“Aye.” He did not say that he had forced it from her just moments earlier. “Did you know about it?”

Anger jumped into the Campbell’s eyes. Until that moment, any emotion had been held well in check.

“You did not object to sacrificing her?” Rory said contemptuously.

“I did not know. I think—” He stopped suddenly, as if realizing he was being baited into saying things he did not intend to say.

“And if you had known?” Rory bored.

He had to know more about James Campbell before he ventured further.

“I would have found a way to prevent it.”

“Even at the risk of committing treason?”

The silence was broken only by a knock on the door. Rory strode over to it and took a tray laden with fruit, cheese, bread, and a roasted chicken. It smelled far better than anything that had come from the kitchen since he’d arrived. There were also two goblets.

He ignored the frown on the face of the clansman delivering it.

He took the tray to the table, poured wine into both goblets, and handed one over to the Campbell. Perhaps spirits would loosen his tongue.

But this time Campbell did not take it. Neither did he touch the food.

“What do you want?” Campbell asked abruptly.

“Just as you claim not to have been involved in raids on our villages, I personally was not involved in Lady Felicia coming here. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Personally?”

“My kinsmen became a little too enthusiastic in finding a bride for me.”

Light suddenly dawned in the Campbell’s eyes, and he started to rise. “Janet?”

Rory had told James Campbell at the croft that he had thought Felicia was Janet Cameron, but he had not explained how she had come to Inverleith.

“Aye, they thought she was too good for a Campbell.”

Campbell swore softly, too softly for Rory to cipher. He did hear the word
cur
.

“Far better a Campbell than a Maclean,” James Campbell said in a more audible voice. “Their wives have a way of dying early.”

It was a direct hit.

“At least they do not need to flee from their families.”

Another hit.

“Be sure that you will be held responsible,” Campbell said, ignoring the jab.

“Ah, you want to make me responsible for what my kinsmen do, when you refuse to take any for your clan raiding my people.”

A muscle throbbed in the Campbell’s throat, but he said nothing.

“I knew nothing about the interception until they appeared at my gates,” Rory continued. “And then the lady was strangely reluctant to return when I volunteered to return her to the Cameron family. I had been gone ten years and had never seen her. She allowed me to believe she was Janet Cameron. And I could certainly understand her reluctance to avoid her marriage to the Campbell heir.”

Campbell started up off the chair, then sat back down. He struggled to remain emotionless, but Rory could see the anger teeming inside him.

“And now we both seem to have a problem.” Rory left the words hanging in the room as he took a sip of wine.

“Continue,” Campbell said in a steady voice laced with steel.

“You do not want Felicia to marry Morneith. I feel responsible for her current predicament. If not for me, she might well have reached you. She might have had a chance then, but now too many people know a woman thought to be Lady Janet is here. Obviously she could not be in two places at one time. It will not take long before everyone knows the woman is really Felicia Campbell.”

Campbell looked hopeful. “I can still take her away. To France.”

Rory shook his head. “If she simply disappeared now, the Macleans would be blamed, possibly for murder, mayhap for treason. I cannot allow that to happen.”

Campbell stared at him. “You have something in mind, or you would not be talking to me.”

“I have a question first. Why has there not been an outcry about Lady Felicia’s disappearance?”

Campbell hesitated again. It was obvious that he was reluctant to say anything, to give any information to an enemy.

Rory played his trump card. “I can always turn her over to the crown.”

“Fear,” Campbell said after a moment’s pause. “The steward, William, knew that he would be held responsible. He was hoping to find her before my father discovered she was missing. They have been searching everywhere.”

Including, Rory knew, Maclean villages they destroyed, but now was not the time for more accusations. “How long before he reports her disappearance?”

“An escort was due either today or tomorrow to take her to Edinburgh for the betrothal ceremony.”

“What will your father do when he discovers she’s not there?”

Campbell shook his head. “He does not like to be disobeyed. Neither does the king.”

“What would he do if he learned Morneith was a traitor?”

Campbell’s gaze speared him. “You have proof?”

“I know Morneith. More than that, I trade in Paris. I hear much. The French have numerous spies in the English court. Morneith is a traitor as well as a lecher.”

Campbell sat straighter in his chair. “That is not proof.”

“Nay, it is not. And I doubt that French spies are willing to risk their necks, and more, to help convict the man. But there may be a way to trap him.”

Now Campbell did take a gulp of wine.

Rory sat in the chair opposite him, his gaze meeting the Campbell’s directly. He wanted to see everything in that face. He had to decide whether the man was up to a dangerous game, whether he could be trusted. If not, he would be sent back to the dungeon until Rory could develop another plan. He could not risk the Campbell’s escape.

“He is said to have killed his last wife,” Campbell said.