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Authors: PATRICIA POTTER
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Campbell wife in the sea? Had he watched her struggle?
The light from a half moon bounced off the wild waves. Felicia wondered whether that woman had looked at the sea from here. Had she dreamed of having a child? Had she loved the man who had ultimately caused her death?
Fate had played a strange trick bringing Felicia here. Yet she had an odd feeling of belonging, of familiarity. A shudder ran through her. She had not come here to indulge in fantasy. She needed to find places to hide.
She could not go to the Camerons tomorrow and have her identity revealed. She would be returned quickly to her uncle. She needed time to find a way safely out.
She left the room, oddly reluctant to do so, and continued her exploration. Everyone in the tower seemed to be asleep, though she knew there were guards on the ramparts.
Felicia combed the rest of the rooms, stopping only when she reached the steps leading to the ramparts and the guards.
She started back to her chamber, her slippers making only a whisper of sound.
She passed her room. Hesitated. The lower floors would have more activity. Yet she needed to know more. If she met someone, she could always say she was still hungry.
She stopped when she heard voices in the passageway below her.
One belonged to the tall laird. She recognized the deep, authoritative tone.
“Have twenty men ready at daybreak.”
“I think you should take more. There will be parties looking for her. They may act before you can explain.”
“Explain what? That we took their heiress? Damn it, Douglas, you should have stopped this. But now I will no’ have killing over it.”
“If you would but consider wedding her… even handfast. They would be bound then to help us against the Campbells.”
A silence. Then the man called Douglas said, “Perhaps the Camerons will be grateful.”
“I doubt it,” the Maclean said. “You will have the men saddled and ready to go. I will not use a woman in that way.”
“Aye, my lord.”
She moved swiftly back to her room. Help us against the Campbells . Against Jamie. Her blood curdled at the thought of a combined force of Macleans and Camerons.
It wouldn’t happen. Janet loved Jamie. And Felicia was not a Cameron. They would not fight for her.
She’d heard her Campbell kinsmen talk about the raids on Maclean properties. The old laird had died, and the heir had disappeared in foreign lands. The middle son had been at sea. A good opportunity to grab Maclean land and cattle and crops.
The hatred was obviously reciprocated. She heard it in Maclean voices every time her clan was mentioned.
She would be safe if they took her to the Camerons. The Camerons would protect her, but then they would see her delivered to Edinburgh.
No, she had to continue with her original plan. Reach Jamie. Or a nunnery where no one knew her family. Either would be preferable to the marriage planned for her.
But she had to delay tomorrow’s departure. She needed time to find a way to leave on her own and travel to Edinburgh—and Jamie.
She opened the door to her chamber again. No sounds. She had another mission now. She found her way down the steps and moved silently across the great hall to the kitchen. No one had stirred yet, though a great log was burning in the giant fireplace.
Using the candle for light, she found what she needed, then swiftly returned to her chamber. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. She had a plan and it was every bit as desperate as her last one.
“Milady is ill!”
Rory had risen long before dawn. He had shaved and bathed in ice-cold water, then dressed in his white shirt and the plaid. He wore more constrictive—and fashionable—clothes when he sailed and visited foreign ports, and he appreciated the freedom of the plaid.
He’d been ready to leave his room when Moira had knocked.
Moira was more family than servant. She had helped raise him, along with Douglas. His father, like himself, had not wanted to take and lose
The light from a half moon bounced off the wild waves. Felicia wondered whether that woman had looked at the sea from here. Had she dreamed of having a child? Had she loved the man who had ultimately caused her death?
Fate had played a strange trick bringing Felicia here. Yet she had an odd feeling of belonging, of familiarity. A shudder ran through her. She had not come here to indulge in fantasy. She needed to find places to hide.
She could not go to the Camerons tomorrow and have her identity revealed. She would be returned quickly to her uncle. She needed time to find a way safely out.
She left the room, oddly reluctant to do so, and continued her exploration. Everyone in the tower seemed to be asleep, though she knew there were guards on the ramparts.
Felicia combed the rest of the rooms, stopping only when she reached the steps leading to the ramparts and the guards.
She started back to her chamber, her slippers making only a whisper of sound.
She passed her room. Hesitated. The lower floors would have more activity. Yet she needed to know more. If she met someone, she could always say she was still hungry.
She stopped when she heard voices in the passageway below her.
One belonged to the tall laird. She recognized the deep, authoritative tone.
“Have twenty men ready at daybreak.”
“I think you should take more. There will be parties looking for her. They may act before you can explain.”
“Explain what? That we took their heiress? Damn it, Douglas, you should have stopped this. But now I will no’ have killing over it.”
“If you would but consider wedding her… even handfast. They would be bound then to help us against the Campbells.”
A silence. Then the man called Douglas said, “Perhaps the Camerons will be grateful.”
“I doubt it,” the Maclean said. “You will have the men saddled and ready to go. I will not use a woman in that way.”
“Aye, my lord.”
She moved swiftly back to her room. Help us against the Campbells . Against Jamie. Her blood curdled at the thought of a combined force of Macleans and Camerons.
It wouldn’t happen. Janet loved Jamie. And Felicia was not a Cameron. They would not fight for her.
She’d heard her Campbell kinsmen talk about the raids on Maclean properties. The old laird had died, and the heir had disappeared in foreign lands. The middle son had been at sea. A good opportunity to grab Maclean land and cattle and crops.
The hatred was obviously reciprocated. She heard it in Maclean voices every time her clan was mentioned.
She would be safe if they took her to the Camerons. The Camerons would protect her, but then they would see her delivered to Edinburgh.
No, she had to continue with her original plan. Reach Jamie. Or a nunnery where no one knew her family. Either would be preferable to the marriage planned for her.
But she had to delay tomorrow’s departure. She needed time to find a way to leave on her own and travel to Edinburgh—and Jamie.
She opened the door to her chamber again. No sounds. She had another mission now. She found her way down the steps and moved silently across the great hall to the kitchen. No one had stirred yet, though a great log was burning in the giant fireplace.
Using the candle for light, she found what she needed, then swiftly returned to her chamber. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. She had a plan and it was every bit as desperate as her last one.
“Milady is ill!”
Rory had risen long before dawn. He had shaved and bathed in ice-cold water, then dressed in his white shirt and the plaid. He wore more constrictive—and fashionable—clothes when he sailed and visited foreign ports, and he appreciated the freedom of the plaid.
He’d been ready to leave his room when Moira had knocked.
Moira was more family than servant. She had helped raise him, along with Douglas. His father, like himself, had not wanted to take and lose
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