Moira hesitated. "She offered to take a horse and return alone, to say she was lost. Then no blame would visit here."

"I cannot do that. What if brigands attacked her?" He stopped, then said ironically, "I guess they already have."

"Archibald is no' a brigand."

"I wonder if she thought so when he grabbed her. But I will not have her riding alone. The borders are too dangerous."

Moira sighed. "I do not think she should leave today even if it were safe. She is still weak. Ye would no' wish to see the fever return."

"Every day adds danger. She is pledged to the Campbell heir. We could not withstand a siege by both Campbells and Camerons, especially when they both have the ear of King James."

"Mayhap she is no' so happy with the event," Moira said slowly. "She does no' appear to be so anxious to return."

He had received the same impression, and it had puzzled him. She had not demanded an immediate return to her family or to the Campbell keep. He had believed it fear, fear of him and the Macleans, but mayhap Moira was right.

It did not matter, he told himself. He could not risk his clan's future for a reluctant lass.

"I will judge her fitness for travel myself," he said, leaving Moira and taking the stone steps two at a time. The sooner he returned the lass, the better.

He reached her door and heard the sound of the lute inside, then his brother's voice. He was singing a song.

Lachlan used to do that for Maggie. His brother had been but a lad but half in love with Maggie himself. But then every man had been. Rory leaned against the stone wall and listened. It had been a long time since he'd heard his brother play. Not since Maggie died. He wondered what had prompted it.

And then he heard Lachlan's words about Maggie, and his heart seemed to stop.

Lachlan saw him as he left Felicia's room, and he closed the door behind him.

"It has been a long time since I heard you sing."

"You have been gone a long time."

"Not long enough." He changed the subject. "How is our guest? Do you think she is ready to ride?"

"No," Lachlan said. "She barely ate. She is pale. You do not want to deliver a sick hostage."

"She is not a hostage."

Lachlan shrugged. "Why not send a message to the Camerons? Tell them that our men found her wandering and lost."

"I considered that. But I did not want to invite Camerons inside the walls until I was sure what she would say. And to deny hospitality would be to admit guilt. On the other hand, an escort of Macleans would signal our goodwill."

"You will have to charm her," Lachlan said lightly.

Rory looked at him suspiciously. "Not you, too?"

"Oh I have no intention of asking you to seduce her. Merely to make her sympathetic to the misguided efforts of our kinsmen. That might take a few days."

"We cannot wait that long."

"They probably think she is lost. They will be hunting her in the hills and caves. In the meantime, you can be pleasant to her."

"A day," Rory said. "No more."

"I have no doubt you can accomplish much in that time," Lachlan said before turning toward the stone steps.

Rory took a deep breath. Unfortunately, Lachlan was right. If he wished to keep peace with the neighboring clans, he would have to enlist his prisoner's assistance.

He opened the door.

Janet Cameron was sitting on the bed, brushing her long, unruly, red hair. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

He bowed. "My lady. You look far better than you did when you arrived."

He suddenly realized how that sounded. So much for charm. "I mean your health appears much improved."

She smiled suddenly, and he was surprised at its power. Her entire face lit. "I was wet, my lord. I must admit I felt like a drowning rat."

His gaze met hers. "Would you like us to take you home today?"

"I am very weary from the journey. Your men ride hard."

"We can send word to the Camerons."

"I would prefer to borrow a horse tomorrow and travel on my own. That way, no blame will come to you."

"You care about that?" He did not tell her Moira had already conveyed the offer.

"I like your brother. I would not wish harm to come to him. My family is offended easily. But if I were just lost..."

Not that she did not wish harm to him. She had specified his brother. An inexplicable jealousy struck him.

He realized that she was holding her breath while awaiting his answer. Did she truly care that no violence came as a result of Archibald's actions?

"You cannot travel alone. The Campbells ..."

"I am betrothed to a Campbell," she said. "They will do naught to harm me."

He shook his head. "I will accompany you."

The light in her sapphire blue eyes dimmed. The room seemed to grow darker with it gone.

He wanted to ask whether there was a reason she did not rush to the keep of her family. But he didn't. It was best he did not know. He could allow nothing to affect his decisions. Nothing but the welfare of his clan.

Charm her, Lachlan had instructed.

That from his brother who seldom indulged in guile.

Perhaps he, too, realized the stakes this time.

"Will you have supper with us tonight?"

"I have naught to wear."

"Moira will find something."

"Then aye."

"I must warn you. Moira is the cook and--"

"I know," she replied and the light was back in her eyes. Her lips twitched.

"Since my father died, there has been little order. Moira is Archibald's aunt, and she needed the position. We needed a cook. I have decent wine, though," he added quickly. A little too quickly, he thought.

Charm, Lachlan had insisted.

She nodded slowly.

"Moira will check on you during the day and bring several gowns. Select whatever you like."

"Thank you, my lord."

He looked at her as her hands continued to plait her hair in one long braid. Wisps of red hair escaped and curled around her face. She looked young and innocent and uncertain.

And fetching.

Not beautiful, but appealing.

Too appealing.

He stepped outside without another word and closed the door behind him. It was only then that he wondered whether his guileless younger brother had been in on the scheme to see him wed again?

If so, he would be disappointed.

Sorely so.

*Chapter 7*

Felicia knew she had to be careful. She could not appear to have recovered too quickly, and she had to evade Moira's overprotective mothering as well.

She had to do more exploration. She had to find a way to escape. But every time she stood, Moira seemed to appear and suggest she return to bed.

Toward late afternoon, Moira disappeared. Felicia managed to dress herself in her own garments, which had been washed and returned.

She put on the sorely used pair of slippers and quickly snuck out before Moira returned. She moved quickly down the stone steps, darting into a corridor when she heard the sound of boots coming from above. When it felt safe enough, she managed to open the heavy door.

She found herself in a large bailey. She had been here only at night before, and her room looked out over the sea. Now she studied the interior of the keep.

Heavy gates were open, and riders galloped in. The great doors groaned as they closed behind them. She darted into the afternoon shadows, hoping no one would notice her, and watched as they dismounted and went through the same door she'd just departed from.

Her gaze skipped to a door in the wall. A guard stood immediately above it. She turned toward the stable and walked inside. Grooms were busy with the newcomers' horses, taking off saddles and halters. She went down the long line of stalls, finally finding Janet's little mare. She wished she had something from the kitchen to offer when the mare nuzzled her hand for a treat.

"Later," she assured her. Such an errand would provide another opportunity to visit the stable.

In the meantime, she studied the interior. Four boys were working the horses. Were they always here?

One of them caught her eye and came over to her. "Milady, can I help ye?"

"I was just thinking my mare needed some exercise, but you seem very busy."

He looked regretful. "Ye canna leave the bailey, milady. Archibald, he said nay."

"I do not care about leaving the bailey. I just wish to exercise the mare. I will stay within the walls."

The boy looked skeptical. "I will ask Archibald, but first I must help cool down the horses. Lord Rory feels strongly about his beasts."

That said something about Rory Maclean. She turned away and let him get back to work. She walked down the line of stalls until she reached the end. There was an extra large stall in which a black mare moved restlessly. She was obviously close to foaling.

Felicia held her hand out, and the mare nipped at it. One of her fingers bled, but Felicia held no malice. Ordinarily she would have disciplined the mare, but had she been as swollen and as uncomfortable, she probably would nip, too.

She watched as the grooms started bringing in water from the well for the watering buckets, wondering if she could befriend one of them. She feared not. The lad she had spoken with seemed to have a healthy respect for authority. She supposed the others did as well.

Still, there might be one ...

She 'had' to find some way to leave.

The groom returned and regarded her curiously. "Archibald said you were no' feeling well."

"I am improved," she said, "and needed some fresh air. I feel like a prisoner."

"I canna help that, milady. But someone might accompany you on a ride tomorrow."

"I would be most grateful." She hesitated, then continued. She wanted to form a bond with the lad. "The black mare is ready to foal?"

"Aye. Tonight, Lachlan says."

"I would like to watch," she said wistfully. She had always loved the sight of a foal taking its first few uncertain steps. It had always seemed a miracle to her.

The lad looked at her in shock. " 'Tis no sight for a lady," he said.

She had seen more than a few foals born. Neither Jamie nor the grooms at Dunstaffnage had this quaint idea of what a lady should do.

But would Janet have made such a comment? She had to remind herself that as of two days ago she 'was' Janet. Fair and modest. Certainly not someone mucking in straw and blood. She had to stop making mistakes.