Beloved Impostor

by Patricia Potter

  “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.

  Chapter 18

  Felicia could not know.

  Campbell readily agreed. “She would not want anyone put in danger on her behalf. She has a worrisome tendency of taking events into her own hands and getting into trouble.” The words were said with a tenderness and understanding that rankled Rory.

  But after she had masqueraded as a Cameron and attempted to escape as a lad, he could not disagree.

  Still, he knew it would be one of the most difficult parts of the plan. He would have to tell her that her cousin escaped without her, and that Lachlan had gone with him.

  He did not like lying. It was excruciating that he would have to do what he had so recently accused her of doing.

  Would she believe Lachlan could be a traitor to his family?

  He would worry about that later. He had other matters that needed attention.

  Douglas, for one. He had not yet told either Douglas or Archibald about Felicia. It was time.

  The bell rang for supper. The great hall filled with thrice the number usually fed. He would be expected.

  Rory went down to the kitchen and ordered trays of food to be delivered to both Felicia and the Campbell. He also made sure that both had a guard at the door. He took care to choose a well-known slacker to watch James Campbell.

  Then he went to supper.

  Unlike past meals, the clansmen were subdued. They spoke in low tones rather than the usual boisterous ones. It was obvious the two recent raids had both angered and frightened them. They cast quick glances at their new lord, not concealing their uncertainty as to his mettle. He recognized that, and knew only time would create trust.

  He had no time.

  He asked Douglas to sit next to him. Archibald had taken Lachlan’s place in checking on patrols.

  “Are we ready?” Rory asked.

  “For a siege? Aye. We have the food. We have water. We have training to do, but our men are learning fast. And we have Campbell. No one will storm the keep as long as we hold him.”

  They were holding on to that. How would they feel when he disappeared? When Lachlan disappeared?

  He and Lachlan had debated about telling Douglas. He was as loyal and honest as any man could be. But if he let anything slip, Lachlan’s life could be forfeit. Still, for Lachlan’s sake, someone besides Rory had to know.

  Rory turned to his food, which was considerably improved. He woul
d try to hire Alina’s mother as a permanent cook. Her husband could be employed in any number of positions.

  That thought was just as disquieting. It meant that somewhere inside he was considering staying.

  Where in the devil was Patrick?

  Rory wished with all his being that Patrick would return. He was not good at subterfuge.

  Now he was spinning a web that might entrap him and his clan as well as its intended prey.

  He thought of Felicia. He was gradually becoming used to the name. Was she still worried about her cousin? About her own future? He knew he could not do anything—or say anything—to help her.

  After supper, he went with Douglas to the armory.

  Since he had not done that since he’d returned, Douglas stood and waited.

  “A mistake was made when Archibald abducted the lady you know as Lady Janet Cameron,” Rory said.

  Douglas’s brows knitted together. “Wha’ do you mean?”

  “You abducted Lady Felicia Campbell.”

  Douglas’s mouth opened, then closed.

  “The Campbells raided the village the other night because they were looking for her,” Rory said. “She was trying to run away from a marriage planned for her. When she arrived here, she was afraid to tell us who she really was.”

  “A Campbell?” Douglas said in wonder. “But—”

  “You liked her,” Rory finished.

  “Aye,” Douglas said. “She would have made a fine—” He stopped again.

  Rory shook his head. There apparently seemed no end of the desire to find him a bride.

  “What are you going to do?” Douglas asked.

  “She is our responsibility,” Rory said. “She will stay here for the time being.”

  Douglas stilled.

  “Speak up,” Rory said.

  “I would agree we should go to war for your bride. But … for a Campbell?”

  “It is a matter of honor,” Rory said, cutting him off.

  “At least we have the Campbell heir.”

  Rory knew he would eventually have to tell Douglas his plan. He was not sure now was the time. One careless word could condemn both James Campbell and Lachlan.

  He did not like making such choices in loyalty, and honor. It had always been so simple before. So clear. One served his God, his king, his clan, his family.

  Now he did not know the best way to serve any of them.

  “Aye,” he said, feeling like the worst of liars, “we have the Campbell heir.”

  “And the lady?”

  “She is to be treated with the respect her rank deserves. And for what she has done for Alina and others as well.”

  Rory watched as the man struggled with his own emotions.

  “Aye, she is well liked,” Douglas said. “But that was before …”

  “She is the same person. Her care for the wounded was not a subterfuge.”

  “She should have—” He stopped suddenly.

  “Said what? You had brought our enemy into our gates. She knew nothing about us except that we abducted young women and were lifelong enemies of her clan.”

  Douglas flushed.

  Rory continued. “I told you because it will not be long before the Campbells and the rest of Scotland knows that Janet Cameron is at home and Felicia Campbell is the one who is missing.”

  “She told you?”

  “Nay, her cousin. The Campbell.”

  “We are returning her?”

  “Nay. She may be of some use in negotiations.”

  Douglas nodded. “Should I tell the others?”

  “Aye, but I want no disrespect or unkindness.”

  “I will see to it. That does not extend to the Campbell?”

  “It does not,” Rory said. “He was moved to where he is for political reasons, but I care not what happens to him.” It was true, to some extent. He did not care after his task was completed. In truth, he did not care for the Campbell at all. The man’s self-assurance grated on him. If Rory was truly honest, he realized it wasn’t his self-assurance—a quality he usually respected. It was the obvious bond between him and Felicia.

  She is out of reach.

  Even if she were not a Campbell and the curse were meaningless, he would always live in fear that another of his wives might die in childbirth, along with the child. He did not believe he could survive another agony like that. He still felt the sharp pain of memory. Of loss. Of guilt.

  He did not wish to think of it multiplied.

  He said a good eve to Douglas.

  Everything was in place. The Campbell would escape tonight with Lachlan’s assistance. He wondered whether Felicia would feel betrayed by her cousin. It was not satisfaction, but a gnawing pain at playing with lives that haunted every moment of this day.

  He probably should not have cut short the visit between Felicia and the Campbell, but time was short. And Felicia could not know what was about to transpire. The smallest slip could mean disaster for all of them.

  Was that really the reason? Or was he wanting to keep the lass from her cousin?

  Tomorrow she would be left entirely alone.

  Rory did not want that, yet he saw no alternative for it.

  He had one last stop tonight.

  Jamie spent the afternoon pacing the room.

  He was a prisoner, but worse, he feared he was being manipulated.

  It had sounded right earlier. He did not doubt Morneith was a traitor. He had always despised the man.

  But then he had always despised Macleans as well. How could he possibly trust Rory Maclean?

  Still, he was far more comfortable, and Felicia seemed to be well. Had he been wrong about the Macleans all these years? He did not want to think so. It would destroy the tapestry of all he believed.

  Could he trust the new lord?

  The man was not the raving predator he had expected when he was first captured. He had thought, in that moment, his life had ended.

  He’d puzzled, though, over the Maclean’s simmering hostility, even as his enemy provided a certain civilized imprisonment.

  Civilized or not, it was imprisonment.

  Jamie despised his feeling of helplessness. He could not see Felicia to assure himself that she truly was safe. He had had only those few moments to see her. Her eyes had been bright, her greeting warm. She had demonstrated no fear of her captors, but then he would have expected no less. She was a Campbell.

  The door opened. Rory Maclean strode in.

  “Another visit so soon? I am honored,” Jamie said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

  “We have details to discuss,” the Maclean said, ignoring both his words and manner.

  Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a wall. He was not going to make it easy for his captor.

  “You need information,” the Maclean said curtly. “The rumors about Morneith came, as I said, from French spies as well as diplomats trying to negotiate a marriage between King Henry’s sister, Mary, and the French King.”

  “There was talk of that in London,” Jamie said.

  “The French distrust King Henry and his ambitions in Europe, and particularly Wolsey, who is the power in England now. Louis feels the Scots are the only reason Henry does not attack them.”

  Jamie nodded. He had heard many of the same sentiments at the Scottish court. Both the Scots and the French felt King Henry had his eye on France but feared being attacked from his neighbor to the north if he struck. And King Henry had reason for such a belief. If the English attacked France, King James most certainly would seize the opportunity to move on northern England.

  “The French do not want Scotland weakened,” Rory continued. “Henry does. I was told by a diplomat that Wolsey swore Scotland would collapse from within. It was presented as a reason for a marriage between Louis and Princess Mary. The diplomat said France could not depend forever on Scotland to be a detriment to an English invasion of France, that some Scottish nobles hungry for land and titles had already promised loyalty t
o Henry in exchange for more lands.

  “Another French spy identified one of those men as Morneith. He passed the information to me because we have done business together in the past. He had heard Maclean land might be among the reward. Others confirmed the story that emissaries from Henry were meeting with Scottish lairds.”

  “Morneith was the only man mentioned?” Jamie asked, intrigued despite himself. It made sense, all of it.

  “Aye. Buckingham was said to be the intermediary with Morneith. The sum of twenty-five thousand pounds was mentioned as well as our lands. There could be other traitors as well, but Morneith was the only name specifically menioned.”

  The Maclean paused. “This news was one reason I returned when I did. I wanted to establish alliances. It would be necessary to be believed.” The Maclean paused, then added, “I had hoped to end this feud between our two clans.”

  Jamie did not answer immediately. He thought he had been sent to London to remove him from making any protest about a marriage between Felicia and Morneith. His father knew he considered her a sister, and a loved one at that. Perhaps there had been more to it as well. Perhaps King James had heard whispers of betrayal and had hoped Jamie might hear something at the court.

  If the latter was true, he certainly had heard naught of interest other than continuing concerns about the intentions of France and Spain. He had delivered greetings from King James to King Henry, and sympathy on the death of Henry’s newborn child. He had not lingered at a court where Scots were considered crude ruffians.

  He was also bemused by the Maclean’s statement that he’d intended to end the feud between the two clans. There was no doubt it was bleeding both families. But his father … he hated the Macleans and had given the Campbells’ steward, William, permission to raid and harass them at every opportunity.

  “How do I know this is true?” he finally responded.

  “You do not. If I were you, I would be suspicious as well,” the Maclean said.

  “Then why should I believe you?”

  “Because I hope you care about your king and country as well as Lady Felicia. If Morneith is a traitor and can recruit others, James will have a dagger in his back. If Scottish lands go to outsiders, Scotland will be divided and weakened.”

  Jamie nodded. It was dangerous. Morneith was a powerful man, and the Maclean had received his information from the French. It could well be a trap to divide the Scottish crown, or even drive more wedges between the English and the Scots. His head could well be at stake.