Felicia should have been a lad. She was stubborn and adventurous and had endless curiosity about all things. She had a special love for astronomy, which had amused him. So had her competitive spirit. In a rare moment of whimsy, he had agreed to teach her sword-play. He had not expected her to practice for hours, and days, and even months. If she had more strength in her arms, she would be formidable. As it was, she could give an average swordsman a contest in the short run.

He did worry about her. She would make a poor wife for most men. She disliked womanly activities. She challenged ideas and thoughts and perceptions. It would take a rare man indeed to appreciate her.

He smiled as his thoughts shifted back to Janet. She, too, surprised him endlessly. She listened and absorbed far more than anyone thought, even as she was gracious and knowledgeable about running households. He was amazed at how much he wanted to see her again. How he had ridden so hard to return to her.

His body hardened as he thought of their wedding night. They had exchanged stolen kisses, nothing more. But she had never shied away. She was eager and receptive, and he yearned to teach her the depths of passion.

A furlong or more and he would be home. He wondered if Janet was still there. He knew she had planned to stay only a few weeks, and he'd been riding night and day to get home.

He heard the sound of hoofbeats ahead.

He guided his horse off the road and into the woods, then stepped back out when he recognized Campbell colors.

"Lord James," said the leader as he pulled up his horse. "We did not expect you."

"You seem in a hurry?"

The leader looked uncomfortable.

Apprehension filled him. "You have bad news?"

The leader looked at the man beside him, then shifted in his saddle. "Lady Felicia has disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared?"

"She seems to have spirited herself away."

"Why would she do that?"

The man swallowed hard. "I am not sure, my lord. I know only that she apparently took Lady Janet's place in the escort to take her home. The escort... ah ... lost her."

"Why would she take Janet's place?"

The man shrugged helplessly.

"Come man, tell me."

"I only heard the rumors."

"What are the rumors then?"

"Her uncle pledged her hand in wedlock to the Earl of Morneith."

"Morneith?" God's teeth, but he understood his cousin's flight. He knew Morneith. How could his father have condemned Felicia to a man like that?

"And there has been no sign of my cousin?"

"Nay."

"For how long?"

"Eight days now."

"God's blood," he said. "You have no idea where she might have gone?"

"Nay."

"And did Lady Janet aid Lady Felicia's flight?"

The guard shrugged. "Lady Felicia drugged her and took her place."

"They look nothing alike."

"It was a cold, rainy morning."

And he knew his cousin. She would venture anything.

"Has Lady Janet returned home?"

"Aye."

"And my father does not know about my cousin?"

Again silence.

They were obviously afraid to deliver the bad news to his father. That came as no surprise. His father did not like incompetence.

"And William?"

William was his father's steward. He might not be much longer if Felicia was not found. William would be very aware of that. He apparently was praying that he would find Felicia before he had to report her disappearance.

"We have searched the countryside," the soldier said. "We have scoured the forests, sent messengers to the Camerons and other clans. We even searched Maclean lands since they are near Camerons. She has just... disappeared."

"You think the Macleans could be responsible?"

"There has been no demand for ransom, but it is possible."

Fear spiked in his chest. Felicia had been more than a cousin to him. She had been sister and friend. He had vowed as a lad to always protect her. God help anyone who tried to harm her.

"I am returning to Dunstaffnage to have a word with William," he said.

"We will continue to search the caves south of here."

"Maclean properties?"

The man spat on the ground. "We already visited them."

Jamie stiffened. "And found nothing?"

"Nay, naught but cattle."

"I would not like anything to happen to my cousin because of something Campbells did."

"Macleans are nothing. They would no' dare to take a Campbell."

Jamie did not think so, either. The Macleans had weakened over the past years, but neither did he want to revive a feud. King James wanted the clans united to prevent any aggression by the English. He had made it clear that he would not tolerate private feuds.

"Continue your search," he said. He went around them and, with a slight flick of the reins, urged his horse into a trot, then a canter toward Dunstaffnage. He wanted to learn more from William.

He had to find Felicia.

*Chapter 10*

Totally exhausted by three days with little sleep and most of that caught while riding, Rory reached the walls of Inverleith in mid-afternoon.

After finding the lads yesterday morning, he'd helped build a temporary shelter for the few remaining villagers before leaving with the boy at sunset. He then rode most of the night.

The horn announced his arrival. He was surprised--but grateful--when he saw grooms awaiting them. It was the first time he had seen any efficiency.

John, his arm in a sling to keep pressure off his shoulder, rested against him. Rory knew from his own past injuries that the lad was probably in agony with every movement, but John had not complained.

The boy's father had remained behind. He did not know how to ride, and Rory wanted to get John to the keep as quickly as possible. Alex stayed behind as well, as did Ian, who was to stay with the villagers until Rory could send additional men.

Rory slid down from his mount. Ignoring the growing pain in his arm from the slingshot, he lowered John who stood unsteadily for a moment.

Douglas appeared, and his gaze moved from Rory to the lad. "You found them then?"

"Aye, both boys are alive, though John here needs Moira's skills."

"The other wounded are in the great hall," Douglas said. "I will fetch Moira, or the Cameron lass."

"The Cameron lass?" Rory had tried not to think about Janet Cameron these last hours. He'd thought he would not see her again. Lachlan had been told to return her home.

"Aye, she has been helping with the wounded."

"Lachlan was to take her back," he said, his voice harsh, even as he found himself unexpectedly eager to see her again.

Douglas shrugged. "The fever returned, and then the wounded came. She has healing skills, and we needed her."

"God's eyes, does no one heed my orders?"

"I did not feel we should endanger her," Douglas said, "no' with Campbell raiding parties roving about. They might well attack before they knew who she was. And we canna lose any more men, not if you want the villages guarded."

Douglas paused, then added, "And we needed Lady Janet. She was helpful in treating the wounded.

The wee lass might lose her leg, and she clings to Lady Janet. I could not send her away, even if we could spare the escort."

"We will need far more men than we have if the Camerons join the Campbells to attack us."

"Just another day," Douglas insisted. "Alina needs her."

"God's blood, a soft spot, Douglas?"

"She's but a wee lass," Douglas defended himself. "And there have been no alarms about a missing Cameron lass. They are perhaps still searching for her somewhere in the hills."

"She leaves tomorrow," Rory said. "I will take her myself. I would today but..."

"You look as if you need rest." Douglas's gaze went to the bloodied sleeve of his shirt. " Tis your blood and not the lad's?"

" 'Tis nothing. One of the lads thought I was a Campbell."

"I will have Moira look at it."

"Nay, the lad comes first. I will see Lady Janet."

"Aye, my lord."

Rory was suspicious when Douglas used the title. He did not care to be manipulated, and he had discovered in the weeks he'd been back that when Douglas used the title, he usually had a purpose in mind, one that Rory would not like.

But he was too weary at the moment to question him further.

He put his hand on John's shoulder and led him toward the door.

Already alerted, Moira was waiting as he and the lad entered. She quickly undid the wrapping around the lad's wound and looked at it. "I think I can sew it together," she said. "We have no need to burn it."

She had a clansman fetch another pallet to join those of a half-dozen other men on the floor.

She turned to Rory, her gaze resting on his sleeve, which was now rust-colored with dried blood. "Now yer turn, milord." She rolled up the flowing sleeve of Rory's shirt and looked at his arm. His gaze followed hers. The small wound was ugly-looking, the skin around it red and angry.

"What happened, milord?"

"A slingshot," he replied wryly. "Finish with the lad first. You can tend mine later."

Her eyes narrowed, but she merely shrugged. "As you wish, my lord."

"Is Lady Janet in her chamber?"

"Aye, or in the chamber next to hers. Milady insisted that the young lass and her mother stay there. More comfortable, she said."

'Insisted'. He smothered a smile. His father was probably turning over in his grave at the thought of crofters occupying his bed.

He thought about bathing first, but some unwanted urge directed him to her chamber. He knew he looked like a brigand. His cheeks were rough with new beard, and his hair was uncombed. He smelled of horse sweat and blood.