Beloved Impostor

by Patricia Potter

  Instead he caressed her breasts, playing against the sensitive flesh that changed, hardened under his fingers. He continued his seduction, moving his hands along the lengths of her body, bringing it to a readiness to take his. He knew he had gone past the point of stopping. But he wanted to give more than he wanted to take.

  Felicia’s legs nearly gave way. Sensations slammed her like winds in a highland storm. The need in her increased unbearably. As she touched and caressed him, and felt his arms tighten around her, she did not care about anything except satisfying the exquisite ache that had haunted her since she had met him.

  He stepped back and pulled off his shirt, then sat in a chair and removed the soft leather boots. Then he stood.

  She was stunned by the raw, rugged beauty of his tall hard body, by the muscles and dark hair curling on his chest. Shy and eager both, she reached out a hand to him in invitation.

  He took it and led her to the bed. He guided her to a sitting position, and leaned over and kissed her lips, then moved downward, his lips lingering, inciting small blazes wherever they went. Then his mouth found her left breast and nuzzled it.

  Any hesitation Felicia might have had vanished in the magic of his touch, the yearning she felt in him as much as in herself. Her heart thudded, the noise pounding in her ears. She felt his strength, and she relished it. She felt his need and responded to it. She felt his passion, and all her doubts and fears dissolved into a cavern of immense longing.

  Her blood rushed like a storm-swollen river through her as he turned her body and again stroked her with hands that were pure sorcery. Though the room was cold, she felt the dampness of his skin and wondered whether it came from an inner boiling heat like her own.

  All thoughts disappeared as his tongue roamed and stroked and seduced her body until every nerve in her body sang with life and expectation. When she thought she could bear no more he lowered himself. He did not enter her, but teased her body with his until it was her arms that pressed him into her. First there was an odd fullness, then an unexpected pain. She could not stop a small exclamation.

  He stopped, withdrew. But through the pain, Felicia was consumed by need and the promise of some unknown pleasure. Her arms brought him back, and slowly, very slowly, he started to fill her again.

  The pain receded, replaced by a yearning so overwhelming she could not comprehend it. There was pulsing eagerness and fierce expectation.

  He hesitated, the warmth of his skin touching and brandishing, setting off even more sparks. Her body instinctively moved up to him, desperate to relieve the pressure inside, the terrible, driving craving that consumed her.

  His kiss deepened as he probed deeper. The sensations were so new, so unbelievably delicious that her body responded, seeking more and more of him.

  He moved in her, slowly, giving her time to get used to the feel of him, then the movements became a sensuous dance, a slow, hypnotic rhythm that her body joined. Her hips rotated in circular movements, even as she wondered at her own boldness, the new instinctive knowledge of what exactly to do.

  He thrust deeper, and she felt he was almost at the core of her. An urgency seized her, and she pulled him even closer to her.

  Then another thrust, and she felt an explosive ecstasy rock her, splintering into waves and waves of pleasure that surged through her. Her body shuddered uncontrollably, and she heard him mutter something. He collapsed on her, his breath coming quickly. She relished the gentle abrasion that continued to send tremors through her body.

  He rolled over, carrying her with him, then clasped her tightly against him. She heard their hearts beat in tandem. Their breath intermingled.

  Her body hummed and tingled and still sought to wrap itself around the part of him that had so awakened her. Every time she moved even slightly, rushes of sensations ran through her.

  She had never thought that making love could be so … so shattering, like a shooting star flashing through the universe. She would never regret these moments. She would always treasure them.

  She lay in his arms, wondering how anything could feel so right, puzzling over how two members of warring clans could come together with such a sense of belonging. And rightness.

  She snuggled in his arms. For the moment, nothing else mattered but his embrace.

  Rory shifted slightly, gathering her even closer to him. “You are so bonny,” he said.

  She would have preferred words of love. But it was enough at the moment to know he thought her bonny.

  He had given her a gift, and memories. He had given her part of himself.

  It was so much more than she had ever thought she would have.

  Chapter 22

  Jamie paused at the road into the Cameron keep.

  Lachlan drew alongside him. “Why are we stopping?”

  “Our horses need rest, and we can get some food here.”

  Lachlan raised an eyebrow. “You would not be wanting to see the Cameron lass?”

  “That, too,” Jamie said agreeably. He was not going to bypass a visit with Janet.

  The gates opened when he identified himself, and Janet stood in the courtyard as he rode in. Her anxious expression faded into pure joy.

  His heart soared, even as that reaction startled him.

  He slid down from his saddle and walked over to her.

  “I worried about you,” she said softly.

  He did not expect the thud of his heart when she said that.

  She looked up at him. “Did you learn anything about Felicia?”

  “Aye, but I will tell you more later.” He turned toward Lachlan. “This is Lachlan Maclean. He assisted me, and I ask that you extend to him all the hospitality of your clan.”

  She turned and smiled at Lachlan. “Of course,” she said as Lachlan dismounted.

  Then she turned back to him. “How long can you stay?”

  “No longer than a day. I must be off to Edinburgh.” He paused, then added, “Have you had any questions from my father?”

  “Some men from Dunstaffnage stopped, asking if we had any information about Felicia.” Questions were in her eyes. He knew he would have to lie to her, just as he had lied to Felicia. He did not like being put in that position.

  It’s for Felicia’s sake.

  She turned to go inside, and her mother joined them, beaming as she saw him and Janet together. “It is good to have you visit again so soon. You will stay longer?”

  “Nay, my lady, I cannot. I have urgent business in Edinburgh.”

  She looked toward Lachlan with curiosity. “Lachlan Maclean?”

  “Aye, he did me a very great service.”

  “Then he is welcome, of course.”

  He probably would have been, anyway. The Camerons were caught between the Macleans, who bordered their property, and the Campbells, with whom they’d had a long alliance. It had been a delicate line to tread.

  “Have you heard anything about Felicia?” the lady asked.

  More lies that would need explanation in the future. “Aye, the Macleans are holding her hostage.”

  Janet’s eyes widened. She glanced quickly at Lachlan, then back to him. “What do they want?”

  “I cannot discuss that with anyone but my father,” he said. “But she appears to be well treated.”

  “But that was not what she—” She stopped suddenly and looked at her mother.

  So did Jamie.

  Lady Jane stared at her daughter, realization dawning in her eyes. “You helped her?”

  “Yes,” Janet admitted reluctantly.

  Lady Jane’s glance went to Jamie. “You knew she assisted Lady Felicia?”

  “Aye,” he said.

  “Your father would break the betrothal if he knew,” Lady Jane said. “He is not a man to cross.”

  “He will not learn it from me, and there is no other except your daughter, Felicia, and now you who know,” he said.

  But Lady Jane was not listening. She turned back to her daughter. “How could you do such a reckles
s thing? Lord Campbell could destroy us all.”

  “He was going to marry her to the Earl of Morneith,” Janet replied.

  Distaste crossed Lady Jane’s eyes. “A poor match, indeed, but he is still her guardian. And is she any better off in the hands of the Macleans?”

  Jane looked back at Jamie. “You said she was well treated. Did she speak to you, and how?”

  “I was captured by the Macleans,” he said. “They were planning to hold me, as well, but Lachlan helped me escape.”

  Two pairs of blue eyes turned back to Lachlan, who was still standing next to his horse.

  “That was the assistance you mentioned,” Janet said. “But why?”

  “He does not agree with what the new laird is doing.”

  “The new laird?”

  “Rory Maclean,” Jamie said.

  “I did not know he had returned,” Lady Jane said.

  “I understand he just arrived. He assumed the position of laird, taking it from Lachlan.”

  Confusion cleared from Lady Jane’s eyes, but her expression was less friendly. “I understand,” she said.

  She did not. She thought what Jamie and Lachlan wanted everyone to think, that he was betraying his clan, his own family. That he probably hoped to curry favor with the king and be placed in his brother’s position.”

  Jamie did not know if he would have the courage to do the same. Physical courage was something he could understand. He had no fear of dying. He did have fear of what others thought and believed of him.

  “That could mean war,” Janet whispered. “And Felicia will be in the middle of it.” She hesitated. “You could not bring her out with you?”

  “Nay,” he said, beginning to feel a little of what Lachlan felt. “But now I can bargain for her. I can convince my father to pay the ransom.”

  “You do not think he would?”

  “The Macleans are asking for a small fortune. It would have been far more if I had not escaped.”

  Some of the glow in Janet’s eyes had faded. He knew he sounded less than heroic. And he wanted to be heroic for her. He did not want to see doubt in her eyes. Yet they had all agreed the secret could not go farther than it already had. Success depended on everyone playing certain roles.

  He knew now it would be more difficult than he thought.

  “We have to go on. I just wanted to assure you about Felicia.”

  But she was not assured, and he realized it. Her friend was being held in a keep ruled by a man who had been away for many years. Jamie himself had known little about Rory Maclean. Yet oddly he trusted him.

  Odd, indeed.

  Kernels of doubt crept into his mind.

  He had given his word, and he would see it through unless he discovered he was being used. God help the Macleans then.

  The two of them ate a quick meal, then got back on their horses. Edinburgh was several days off, even riding hard.

  Rory held Felicia, wondering what angel or what devil had placed her in his arms.

  Felicia had made him forget, temporarily, the scene that had haunted him since he was a young man. It would never be completely gone, but now he thought he could accept it.

  He could make changes that might well end a feud that had meant so much misery for so many unintended victims.

  He had slept on and off during the night. Each time he woke, he thought it was a miracle she was sleeping so easily in his arms. He wished it could last forever.

  He pushed away the warnings. It could not. He knew that. But he could and would protect her.

  What if there was a child?

  That terrified him. He had lost a wife in childbirth. There were means to prevent a child, but he had not expected his weakness last night. He should have, but he had not.

  Still, he had heard that women rarely conceived on their first time.

  Please God, let that be true with this woman.

  He could not take the chance again. She needed an opportunity to make a life without him.

  She moved slightly, then opened her eyes. The first rays of a rising sun streamed into the room.

  She gave him a shy smile that wriggled into his heart. She usually was not shy. Challenging, certainly. Shy, nay.

  She squirmed against him, and he felt his body start to react again.

  He was not going to let it happen again. Reluctantly he moved away from her and stood. He could not, however, take his gaze from her.

  Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were sleepy, but there was no mistaking the desire in them. And the wonder lingering from hours ago.

  He leaned down and brushed her cheek with a kiss, and she stretched like a cat. God save him, but she was lovely. And seductive. He suspected she had no idea exactly how seductive she was.

  He had to dress and go below before anyone discovered what had happened. He had enough problems without having his clan suspect of his motives.

  Rory pulled on the linen shirt he’d discarded last night and then wrapped the plaid around him, finally belting it. He did it all without looking at her. He knew if he did, he would probably pull her back into his arms.

  He took the steps toward the door. Once there, he looked back at her. Her eyes were huge, and yet there was no anger or sorrow in her face. Only resignation. She knew, as he did, the hopelessness of any liaison.

  “I will take care of you,” he said.

  “I will take care of myself,” she said in a haughty voice, and yet there was a vulnerable tone of defiance. “You owe me nothing.”

  “I owe you more than you will ever know,” he said. The words had come pouring out before he could stop them. He had said too much, revealed too much, but he couldn’t take them back now.

  She stared at him from the bed. Every curve of her body was outlined under the cover. He remembered exactly how she had felt snuggled in the curves of his body. He would never, ever forget the trust it implied, the way his body reacted to hers. And hers to his.

  Nor the way his heart skipped when he looked at her.

  He opened the door and left.

  Jamie rode like the furies were behind him.

  Lachlan kept pace.

  Neither had voiced what Jamie thought was on both of their minds. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could reclaim their reputations.

  They stopped only to rest their horses, and when they did, they did it in silence. Despite their common goal, trust was fragile thing between them.

  Late in the second day they reached Edinburgh. They separated. Lachlan could not risk being seized by the crown or the Campbell in retaliation.

  He had changed clothes, and Jamie noticed how well he fit into his new role of minstrel. He had a fine voice and a true ear for the lute.

  Lachlan would disappear into Edinburgh. Jamie had suggested a tavern where he should stay. It was an establishment that Jamie could also visit without questions being asked.

  As an adviser and confidant of the king, Jamie’s father was staying at Edinburgh Castle, and Jamie would lodge there.

  Jamie watched Lachlan take one road, then he took the other. He would lie to his father, and to his king. His stomach clenched. He was not at all sure he could do what was demanded of him. He had always been in awe of his father. He had never consciously lied to him.

  Would the lie be reflected in his face?

  He started up the steep road to the castle.

  Felicia found a dress that she could put on herself. Robina, she thought, had probably been pressed into service elsewhere, now that there were so many Macleans flooding into the keep. In any case, she could do this for herself.

  She combed her hair, a much easier task now it was so short, then she opened the door. She was surprised to find there was no longer a guard.

  She went next door. Alina was sitting up, Baron lying down next to her. The dog barked, and Alina gave her a shy smile. All the fever was gone, and a pair of crutches were next to her bed.

  Felicia pulled down the sheet covering her and looked at the wound. I
t was still ugly, but there were no red streaks.

  “I think you are going to be just fine,” she said.

  Alina’s smile broadened. “Moira said that, too.”

  “I see you have crutches.”

  “Aye. Lord Lachlan made them for me.”

  Felicia should have been surprised. Lachlan was said to have betrayed his clan. And yet he had found the time to design and make crutches for a child.

  The puzzle deepened.

  Lachlan cared about Alina. He cared about Inverleith. Though he tried to affect detachment, Felicia had always believed it came from a deep sadness that she had never totally understood.

  And now someone wanted her to believe he was a traitor.

  She simply didn’t believe it.

  But neither had she believed Rory Maclean could just walk away after last night. For a moment, she had wanted to throw something at him after he’d said he would take care of her.

  As if she was a thing. Not a person who thought and cared and loved. But as a debt.

  She was not a debt. She had done what she’d wanted to do. She had made a conscious decision to seduce him. She had wanted a taste of a world she thought she might never have again.

  “Will you tell me the end of your story?” Alina asked, jerking her from her disturbing musings.

  The story! She had no ending for it. She had thought then there would be a prince on a white horse. Her prince, however, had apparently put a price on her and then walked off.

  “Perhaps tonight,” she said.

  She knew she would be alone.

  She knew he would not be back.

  Yet she could not blame him. He had never promised anything. He had, in fact, been fighting himself. That much had been obvious. She had invited everything.

  So why was her heart breaking?

  Jamie’s father was in a towering rage.

  “I will make them pay. By God, I will make them pay,” Angus Campbell roared. “And you, lad, how could you leave her?”

  “Would you rather pay ransom for both of us?”

  His father glared at him. “Walking into a trap. Damn it lad, I thought I taught you better.” Then he turned his ire on Felicia. “And how was she taken? Why did the chit not wait for my escort as she was told?”