"I care nothing about rank or power," she said.

"Then we are two of a kind."

"Are we?" she asked suddenly. Was it possible that Lachlan would, could, help her?

"I must leave," she said urgently. "Will you help me?"

"I thought you were reluctant to return."

"I do not wish to go home. I wish to go to London."

His eyes widened with surprise. "London?"

"I have friends there. They will help me."

"Do you hate James Campbell that much?"

"Would 'you' like to be traded like a horse?"

"Nay, no more than I like expectations of what I should be."

"Will you help me then?"

"You cannot travel alone safely."

"I can travel as a lad."

He studied her for a long time. "Aye," he said softly.

"No more questions?"

"Nay."

She knew what she was asking of him. He would be going against the orders of his chief. His brother.

For her? For reasons of his own?

Or could he be trusted at all? She did not know him that well, nor did she have much experience at judging the motives of others.

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

"Because you are desperate," he said simply. "And I have been, as well." He did not elaborate, and his tone warned her not to pry further.

"I do not wish any harm to come to you."

"I know," he said. "My brother no longer knows how to love. Or laugh. Or be happy. But he would not punish me for doing what I think is right."

She prayed it was so.

"When?" She wanted to leave now. Before Rory Maclean returned and she lost her resolve.

"On the morn. Moira has already announced that you are ill. You should stay in today." He gave her a crooked smile. "And you can take the stones from the bed. They are no longer needed."

His smile widened slightly as he regarded her, and she knew guilt must be evident on her face.

"You are not the first to think of such tactics," he said.

She wondered why he--the son of a powerful earl--had also resorted to trickery, but while he usually wore an amused smile, she was quickly learning there were depths to him and as many shadows as followed his older brother.

"We will leave for your home with a small escort," he said. "No one will wonder that I would lose you."

His expression went straight to her heart. As she had always felt out of place, so, apparently, had he.

"Thank you."

"I think this afternoon you can go down and see your foal, though."

"She is not mine," she said.

"Rory gave her to you."

"He will not be so generous when I do not do his bidding."

"He keeps his word. He will send her to you when she is old enough."

"You admire him."

"Aye, I do. He follows his own star."

"So, I think, do you."

He shrugged. "I am nothing."

Before she could reply, he left her, the words leaving a sad echo in the room.

*Chapter 9*

Felicia stayed away from the foal as long as she could. She did not want to say good-bye.

She coveted the foal with all her soul. She had never had a horse of her own. Everything at Dunstaffnage belonged to her uncle.

But it was not her foal. And never could be.

Not wanting appraising eyes on her at the table in the great hall, she took supper in her room. She asked Moira for only bread, cheese, and soup, saying the fever had sapped her appetite. She had learned that these items were the least offensive of all the food.

How she would like to help Moira improve the life here. She liked Archibald, and even the tight-lipped Douglas. Every man and lad had been kind to her.

And the household was in deep need of care.

She ate, then put on her cloak and went down the steps. She passed by the kitchen. Several servants were darting in and out. She found two apples and a knife. She cut the apple in quarters, then passed the great hall where some Macleans were eating. Their number was much fewer than it had been the previous night, and, unlike other meals, there was none of the customary hum of conversation or boasting. Macleans were dead this day.

A shudder ran through her. She had always believed there was only one side to the feud. No more. An innocent village had been attacked. Rory Maclean might well be engaged in a battle with troops from Dunstaffnage. Thank God that Jamie wouldn't be with them.

She could not bear the thought of the Maclean and Jamie crossing swords.

'The Maclean does not mean anything to me.'

She repeated the words over and over, but she soon realized saying them did not make them so. She did care. A suffocating sensation tightened her throat as she realized how much.

'How could that happen so quickly?'

Jamie and Janet had known each other for years, but it was not until Jamie's father pressed him to take Janet for a wife that he offered for her. She had no doubt that he cared deeply for Janet now, but it had not been immediate.

Was it the appeal of forbidden fruit? Of all the men in the world, a Maclean would be the most impossible match for her. She sighed. It could also be, she admitted, that no one had ever before displayed any interest in her. Perhaps any man's kiss might have had the same effect.

She reached the stables and stopped first to feed Janet's mare the quarters of one apple, then she continued on to the stall where the new mother and baby were stabled.

The mare smelled the treat and nickered softly, then moved to take the apple from Felicia's hand. The baby followed on long, awkward legs.

Felicia reached over and stroked the foal's long, silky neck. She truly was beautiful. Her eyes were huge. "You are going to be a fine mare," Felicia said. "I wish ..."

The loud piercing sound of the alarm horn cut through the night. Riders approached!

Felicia's heart pounded against her rib cage.

Rory Maclean had returned. Or was it a party searching for her? Would the Campbells send a party here? Certainly not after raiding a Maclean village?

It had to be Rory. Her heart tripped at the thought of seeing him once more, even though she knew it would make escape even more difficult. Would he still entrust her to his brother?

She left the stables and entered the great hall, taking the steps up to the ramparts. There she joined the sentry and looked down.

She counted ten horses, each carrying two people. Several horses dragged litters behind them. Men and women walked beside them.

The order was given to open the gates. She quickly descended and ran out into the bailey as tired horses and exhausted Macleans--men and women, several carrying bairns--entered. Macleans poured from the great hall and other buildings.

Moira and Robina joined her, as Archibald approached them. He was walking, holding the reins of a horse following behind him. He stopped, wearily, walked around to the saddle, and assisted a woman and young girl in dismounting.

"We have wounded," he said to Moira who quickly moved to check each litter.

"My brother?" Lachlan asked Archibald as they helped villagers dismount.

"He stayed behind to search for several villagers who ran when the Campbells raided the village," Archibald said. "The healer was killed, and crofts burned. There was no shelter left for these people."

"Take them into the great hall," Lachlan said.

"I can help Moira," Felicia said. "I learned much from the healer at..." She stopped herself before she said Dunstaffnage.

Moira obviously heard and looked up. "God save ye, milady," she said gratefully.

Lachlan's startled expression gave her pause. Was it because she had stopped in mid-sentence, or because she had claimed to know healing?

But Lachlan said nothing. Instead, he picked up a young girl from a litter and carried her inside. Moira was occupied with a villager who had a huge gash in his shoulder.

Felicia followed Lachlan into the great hall. Lachlan gently lowered the girl onto a table, and Felicia leaned over to look at her.

The child could have been no more than eight years old. Her leg was bloody and crooked. She regarded Felicia with pain-filled eyes, yet did not utter a word.

"Her name is Alina," a woman who had followed them inside said. A small dog whined and tried to jump up on the table.

"How was she injured?" Felicia asked.

"A Campbell on horseback ran 'er down when she ran out to get the dog. Did it on purpose, he did. I would have left the cur, but Alina would no' hear of it."

'A Campbell deliberately ran her down.'

Pain twisted inside Felicia. Was it a man she knew?

She looked at the ugly wound. The bone had obviously been broken.

Moira joined her and stooped down to look as well. "Ye are a brave lass," she told the child softly.

"Will I lose ... my leg?" Alina asked in a quavering voice.

Felicia looked at Moira. If there was no infection, there was a chance the leg could be saved, but that was unlikely. At the very least, she doubted the lass would ever walk properly again.

"I do not know," she said honestly.

Approval flickered on Moira's face. "There are herbs for poultices in the kitchen," she said.

"I can mix poultices, if Robina will show me where they are."

Moira looked unsure. "Why do you no' stay with the young lass while I go and show Robina what to do?" Before Felicia could protest, Moira was out the door, pushing Robina ahead of her.

The dog whined and tried to move closer to his young mistress.

"What is your dog's name?" Felicia asked, trying to divert the lass from her pain.

"Baron."

"A noble name."

Alina's mother snorted. "He is nothing but trouble, that one."