Beloved Imposter (43 page)

It was growing dark when he found an inn near Edinburgh Castle. He engaged but one room, knowing it would seem odd to request a room for an apprentice. He also did not want to let her out of sight, not out of distrust, but out of worry for her. The fear of her coming to harm during her flight was still too vivid for comfort.

The room was small and dark. A smoky fireplace filled one side of the room, a narrow bed and a table another. He would be sleeping on the floor this night.

“What do we do now?” Felicia asked.

He had to find Lachlan. He had the name of the tavern Lachlan mentioned in the message that was sent through the acting captain of the
Lady.
He hesitated to take Felicia to a tavern, but he hesitated even more to leave her alone. Only God knew what she would do, and perhaps not Him.

“We are going to a tavern,” he said.

Her eyes lit. “I have never been to one.”

“I would hope not,” he said, and she grinned at him, her anticipation at doing the forbidden overcoming her earlier anger.

He tried to scowl at the anticipation in her eyes, but the truth was she only endeared herself to him even more. She had an appetite for life and a curiosity about all things that never ceased to delight him. He thought how much he would love to show her foreign cities. In his mind’s eye, he would see the wonder in her face as she saw Paris, India, Gibraltar.

He wondered if she would enjoy the sea as well. He suspected she would love it as he did, and he pictured her aboard his three master, her hair blowing in the wind, and her cheeks rosy from the wind and sheer sensual pleasure of the sea. He never would have entertained that thought about Maggie or Anne.

But Felicia was made for adventure.

It astonished him that he had such thoughts, that he saw her in his future at all, much less at his side in his voyages…

The innkeeper gave them directions to the tavern. The night was cold again. A fine mist filled the air. Felicia shivered at his side, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. He tried to ignore the reaction of his body. He could not afford distraction. Not now.

At the tavern, he asked the barmaid about a troubadour, while Felicia waited in the shadows, her gaze darting all around the large common ground.

“I have not seen him in several days,” the proprietor said with a shrug.

Rory felt a tightening in his chest. If Lachlan had succeeded, the news of Morneith’s treason would be everywhere. Something had happened to him.

He should never have trusted Jamie Campbell. Nor should he have thrust such a mission on Lachlan. He damned himself, and he damned the Campbell.

He nodded to Felicia, and she followed him out the door and into the street. The fine mist was still falling.

“He will be all right,” she said.

“God help your cousin if he is not.”

She was silent as they returned to the inn. He was bedeviled by possibilities. What had happened?

He could not seek out James Campbell. The Maclean laird would make a fine prize if he had misjudged the Campbell heir, and his clan would pay dearly if he were taken for ransom. Was Lachlan already a prisoner?

“He would not betray you,” Felicia said, obviously reading his thoughts.

“You thought he had betrayed
you
,” he shot back, once more inexplicably jealous at her defense of the Campbell.

She frowned at him. “
You
tried to make me think that.”

He ignored that observation. When they arrived back at the inn, he asked the proprietor for a quill, ink, and paper to pen a missive. He wrote quickly, then asked for wax to seal it.

Now to deliver it.

“Will you promise to stay here?” he asked Felicia.

“Nay. I want to go with you.”

She had the cap on, and she looked up at him with those expressive blue eyes and defiant chin. He was not going to win this particular battle. He had, in truth, won few battles with her.

They walked from the inn toward the castle. As he neared it, he noticed the large numbers of soldiers guarding it. The king must be in residence. He stopped one and asked if he could send a message to one of the guests inside. He offered a pence as payment.

The guard accepted both note and payment and disappeared into the castle.

Rory turned Felicia around and walked away. He could only hope that the message would be delivered. And that he was not walking into a trap. He would watch from a distance and make sure Jamie was alone before joining him at the chapel.

Jamie was with Lachlan when the message arrived.

He took it from the messenger and broke the wax. He read it hurriedly.
I am in Edinburgh and must meet you. St. Margaret’s Chapel tonight. Your cousin is with me
.

It was a demand and a warning.

What in God’s name was Rory Maclean doing here?

He looked up from the parchment and met Lachlan’s gaze. “What is it?” Lachlan asked.

“Your brother is here.”

“I knew he would grow impatient,” Lachlan said. “But I thought we would have more time.”

“Felicia is with him.”

Lachlan winced.

“He wants me to meet him, and I will have to do it. I am meeting with Morneith tomorrow night. I do not want interference.”

“You cannot go out alone. Morneith will be waiting for you.”

Jamie swore. “If I do not, your brother might well show up here. He or Felicia. And I cannot take Campbell men with me. If they realized the Maclean was here …”

He looked at the message again. Blazes take the man. He could ruin everything. And how could he even think of bringing Felicia? His blood ran cold. If Morneith knew …

“I must go.”

Lachlan struggled to a sitting position. “I will—”

“Nay. I know this castle. I can find a way out.”

He left before Lachlan could utter another protest.

He called in a Campbell servant, changed clothes with him, and stepped outside the room. No one in the corridors. He stayed to the shadows, walked down to the servants’ area, and waited until several were ready to leave. He joked that he was trying to avoid a certain, persistent lady. They leered at him, obviously enjoying the discomfort of a lord, but they surrounded him and in minutes they reached the courtyard and left through the gates. Once well through the gates, they separated, but not before Jamie gave each a coin. He knew if they were paid, they would be more than agreeable to participate in such a ruse again if needed.

He nodded at the soldiers guarding the gate and continued down the steep road. With the King in residence, the streets were crowded, making it easy to blend in. He did not think he was being followed.

He reached the church and stepped inside. No one was about, so he selected a pew and sat down.

He did not know how long he waited before he was aware of a presence behind him. He leaned back on the bench.

“Where is Lachlan?” came the Maclean’s voice at his ear.

He turned and looked around. Rory knelt behind him, his head bent as if in prayer.

“I was attacked by four men,” Jamie replied in a low voice. “Morneith, undoubtedly. I had contacted him and suggested that I knew a great deal about his meeting with the English. I was going to tell Lachlan about the meeting but he noticed men following me, and he followed them. When they attacked me, he joined in the fight and was wounded. He is in my rooms at Edinburgh Castle.”

Rory absorbed the information, fear for Lachlan settling in his gut. “How is he?”

“He may lose an arm. He has the best of care. One of the king’s physicians.”

Jamie heard an intake of breath, then a curse. He waited a moment, then asked, “Where is Felicia?”

Rory was silent.

“It is time we trust one another,” Jamie said.

“She’s safe,” Rory said simply.

“Why did you bring her to Edinburgh?”

“She escaped from the castle, stole a horse, and planned to return to your father to prevent any more bloodshed. I found her on the road to Edinburgh. I knew that if I returned her to Inverleith, she would try to escape again, and I have little doubt that she would succeed.” He sighed heavily. “I told her everything, and even then I realized she would try to get here, this time to help you.

“Bringing her with me was the only way to keep her from doing something reckless. At least now I can keep an eye on her.” He paused. “And I had not heard anything from you.”

“Morneith was with the king on a hunting trip,” Jamie said. “He just returned. There was nothing to report.”

Rory turned around. His gaze traveled around the chapel. “What can I do?”

“Return to Inverleith.”

“That I cannot do. I am not good at letting others fight my battles.”

“I do not want another Maclean on my conscience.”

“How does your father feel about having a Maclean in residence?”

“He is getting used to the idea. Lachlan saved my life. He took a dagger thrust meant for me.”

“What can I do?” Rory asked again.

“Have you ever met Morneith?”

“Nay. I have only heard rumors.”

“Then be at the Rose and Spur tomorrow night. I am to sup with Morneith and explain he has few choices other than giving me a very substantial amount of money to keep silent. There is a private room upstairs, but it is not as private as most people would believe. It shares a fireplace with another room and often the proprietor declares the fireplaces in need of a chimney sweep. Words are then easily distinguishable between the two rooms. The king’s cousin, Ian Stewart, will be in the second room. But another witness or two would be welcome.”

Rory raised an eyebrow.

Jamie shrugged. “I hear a little blackmail sometimes flows from that room.”

“Could Morneith be aware as well?”

“I doubt it. It’s known only to a few people. One of my friends was blackmailed when he bedded someone else’s wife there. There is a hefty price on those rooms and part of it is silence. Those victimized can not speak of it, either, since their … failings would become known.”

Jamie stood. “I would like to see Felicia.”

Rory hesitated, then nodded his head toward the back where a young lad sat on the last bench.

Jamie turned his head and looked. He had seen her cropped hair at Inverleith, but he had never seen her look so entirely like a lad.

“I will watch outside,” Rory said.

As the Maclean left the chapel, Jamie approached the lad whose head was bent in prayer.

The lad looked up, and Jamie saw those bright blue eyes of the Campbell family.

“Ah, Felicia. I should have known we could not leave you back at Inverleith.”

“I will never forgive you,” she said, even as her hand reached out and clutched his.

“And the Maclean? Are you as angry at him?”

“He is not my cousin and my friend.”

“Is he not the latter?” he asked. “Or something more?”

Her cheeks blushed. “He has no interest in me.”

He held her for a moment, then she took a step back. “You have been hurt,” she said.

“Morneith set his lackeys on me. Lachlan was following and joined in the battle. I have bruises. He was hurt far worse.”

“How badly?” she asked, her face drawing up in worry.

“He will live,” he said, wishing not to distress her. He wanted to wait until he knew more about how well the wound would heal.

“I would like to see him.”

“He is staying in my father’s rooms at the castle. I do not think you want to see him at the moment.”

“Soon then. He was very kind to me.”

He nodded, and her gaze went back to the bruise on his face.

“It is nothing,” he said.

“It does not look like nothing, but now I cannot hit you. Not like I did Rory.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You hit the Maclean?”

“Aye, and very well,” she admitted with great satisfaction.

Several minutes later, he departed. Before he did, though, he caught glances exchanged between Rory and Felicia.

God help them both.

It was pure agony sitting across from Rory at the Rose and Spur and feigning indifference.

Indifference was the last thing she felt.

She had tried to seduce him last night after they returned from the chapel. She had needed him after hearing that Jamie and Lachlan had almost been killed on her behalf.

“It was not your doing,” Rory tried to comfort her. “They are after a traitor.”

“But if not for me …”

“If not for you, Scotland could be at peril.”

But it had not comforted her. And while she knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, he had merely held her through the night. Part of him had withdrawn from her, and it hurt to the core. She wondered whether he could ever tear down that wall he’d constructed around his heart.

Still in the guise of an apprentice, she sipped the bad wine and kept her gaze on his face as he continued to glance toward the door.

Everything depended on whether Morneith was desperate enough to meet her cousin again. She knew about the first meeting. She also realized there had to be more witnesses.

Rory had assured her Jamie would be protected, that there would be others around. Jamie had assured both of them that he would be safe, and she wondered who among the diners might be there on Jamie’s behalf.

Rory had not wanted to bring her. She knew that. She knew the only reason he had was that he feared she would find some way to join them anyway. And she would have. She was involved. She, too, could be a witness against Morneith. She had been left out too long.

The establishment was nearly filled with a mixture of young lords and prosperous merchants. Three men came in, talking in loud voices. One was a fine-looking young man with red hair and a red beard. The other two were less distinctive, though their voices were blurred with wine.

“There will be others joining us in our little game,” he told the proprietor in a voice loud enough for the room to hear. They were led by the proprietor up the stairs to one of two private rooms Felicia had been told about.

Jamie entered and sat at a bench near the one window.

Minutes went by. Then an hour. She was beginning to think no one would come, when she saw a flicker in Rory’s eyes.