She opened the door to Alina's room. The child was alone, and sleeping. Felicia touched her forehead. It was cool to the touch. Her breathing was easier.

Hopefully the pain had subsided as well.

Not wanting to wake her from much-needed sleep, Felicia sat down in a chair, and waited.

Rory accompanied James Campbell up the steps to the kitchen. Ignoring her wide-eyed stare at the Campbell, Rory ordered a maidservant to bring food and goblets up to Patrick's old chamber. He led the way up the steps to the third level. He stopped at his chamber to fetch the jug of wine as the Campbell waited in the doorway, and then he opened the door of the chamber next to his.

It was as spartan as Rory's own. His father had believed that comfort would lead to softness. But it was certainly an improvement over the dungeon.

Once inside, Campbell looked around the room. There was a small window set deep in the stone walls, a narrow bed, wardrobe, and chest for clothes. A small, battered table with two uncomfortable-looking chairs completed the furnishings. Wall brackets with candles were set into the stone walls.

The fireplace looked as if it had been unattended for decades. Ashes still littered its floor. The smell of dust was heavy in the room.

Rory was in no mood to apologize. Instead, he lowered the jug of wine to the table. "Sit down," he said.

Campbell started to say something, a protest most likely, then apparently decided better of it. He sat.

"You will stay in the room for the time being," Rory said. "There will be a guard outside."

"I gave my word," the Campbell protested.

"Aye, but forgive me if I do not wish to rely entirely on it," Rory said wryly. "It's for your protection as well. Several of my clansmen would enjoy plunging their dirks into you."

"I fear no Maclean."

"No? Well, 'I' fear the consequences if you were slain in Inverleith." Rory knew he probably should not have admitted the last, but if there was any solution to this devil's mess, it would be only with the Campbell's help. "Not only for Macleans," he added, "but for Campbells."

The Campbell raised an eyebrow as if in doubt.

"I have been away, but even so I know James is worried about Henry, and war looms between the two countries. James does not want the clans fighting amongst themselves. It would require a protracted siege to take Inverleith. You know it, and the king knows it. He would not want two armies poised against each other if Henry invades."

The Campbell was listening.

The next part would be more difficult. Much more difficult.

"And then there is your cousin."

The Campbell's mouth thinned.

"Did you know about her betrothal to the Earl of Morneith?"

"She told you?"

"Aye." He did not say that he had forced it from her just moments earlier. "Did you know about it?"

Anger jumped into the Campbell's eyes. Until that moment, any emotion had been held well in check.

"You did not object to sacrificing her?" Rory said contemptuously.

"I did not know. I think--" He stopped suddenly, as if realizing he was being baited into saying things he did not intend to say.

"And if you had known?" Rory bored. He had to know more about James Campbell before he ventured further.

"I would have found a way to prevent it."

"Even at the risk of committing treason?"

The silence was broken only by a knock on the door. Rory strode over to it and took a tray laden with fruit, cheese, bread, and a roasted chicken. It smelled far better than anything that had come from the kitchen since he'd arrived. There were also two goblets.

He ignored the frown on the face of the clansman delivering it.

He took the tray to the table, poured wine into both goblets, and handed one over to the Campbell. Perhaps spirits would loosen his tongue.

But this time Campbell did not take it. Neither did he touch the food.

"What do you want?" Campbell asked abruptly.

"Just as you claim not to have been involved in raids on our villages, I personally was not involved in Lady Felicia coming here. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Personally?"

"My kinsmen became a little too enthusiastic in finding a bride for me."

Light suddenly dawned in the Campbell's eyes, and he started to rise. "Janet?"

Rory had told James Campbell at the croft that he had thought Felicia was Janet Cameron, but he had not explained how she had come to Inverleith.

"Aye, they thought she was too good for a Campbell."

Campbell swore softly, too softly for Rory to cipher. He did hear the word 'cur'.

"Far better a Campbell than a Maclean," James Campbell said in a more audible voice. "Their wives have a way of dying early."

It was a direct hit.

"At least they do not need to flee from their families."

Another hit.

"Be sure that you will be held responsible," Campbell said, ignoring the jab.

"Ah, you want to make me responsible for what my kinsmen do, when you refuse to take any for your clan raiding my people."

A muscle throbbed in the Campbell's throat, but he said nothing.

"I knew nothing about the interception until they appeared at my gates," Rory continued. "And then the lady was strangely reluctant to return when I volunteered to return her to the Cameron family. I had been gone ten years and had never seen her. She allowed me to believe she was Janet Cameron. And I could certainly understand her reluctance to avoid her marriage to the Campbell heir."

Campbell started up off the chair, then sat back down. He struggled to remain emotionless, but Rory could see the anger teeming inside him.

"And now we both seem to have a problem." Rory left the words hanging in the room as he took a sip of wine.

"Continue," Campbell said in a steady voice laced with steel.

"You do not want Felicia to marry Morneith. I feel responsible for her current predicament. If not for me, she might well have reached you. She might have had a chance then, but now too many people know a woman thought to be Lady Janet is here. Obviously she could not be in two places at one time. It will not take long before everyone knows the woman is really Felicia Campbell."

Campbell looked hopeful. "I can still take her away. To France."

Rory shook his head. "If she simply disappeared now, the Macleans would be blamed, possibly for murder, mayhap for treason. I cannot allow that to happen."

Campbell stared at him. "You have something in mind, or you would not be talking to me."

"I have a question first. Why has there not been an outcry about Lady Felicia's disappearance?"

Campbell hesitated again. It was obvious that he was reluctant to say anything, to give any information to an enemy.

Rory played his trump card. "I can always turn her over to the crown."

"Fear," Campbell said after a moment's pause. "The steward, William, knew that he would be held responsible. He was hoping to find her before my father discovered she was missing. They have been searching everywhere."

Including, Rory knew, Maclean villages they destroyed, but now was not the time for more accusations. "How long before he reports her disappearance?"

"An escort was due either today or tomorrow to take her to Edinburgh for the betrothal ceremony."

"What will your father do when he discovers she's not there?"

Campbell shook his head. "He does not like to be disobeyed. Neither does the king."

"What would he do if he learned Morneith was a traitor?"

Campbell's gaze speared him. "You have proof?"

"I know Morneith. More than that, I trade in Paris. I hear much. The French have numerous spies in the English court. Morneith is a traitor as well as a lecher."

Campbell sat straighter in his chair. "That is not proof."

"Nay, it is not. And I doubt that French spies are willing to risk their necks, and more, to help convict the man. But there may be a way to trap him."

Now Campbell did take a gulp of wine.

Rory sat in the chair opposite him, his gaze meeting the Campbell's directly. He wanted to see everything in that face. He had to decide whether the man was up to a dangerous game, whether he could be trusted. If not, he would be sent back to the dungeon until Rory could develop another plan. He could not risk the Campbell's escape.

"He is said to have killed his last wife," Campbell said.

"He most likely did. He likes boys. Young ones."

The Campbell leaned over the table, his hands clenching. "You know this?"

"That is the rumor. I always pay attention when the French discuss the English, and the Scots."

"She's a Campbell. Why do you care?"

"Unlike you, she did not ride onto Maclean land of her own free will. I would have little compunction about holding you hostage, but I do not make war on women. Even Campbell women." He kept his voice emotionless. He knew that she would never be 'just' a Campbell woman. She had seized a part of his heart, and he had not realized it until he'd thought he would lose her.

But he had lost her, or lost what he thought she was.

Even if they found a way to destroy Morneith, her uncle would never permit a marriage to a Maclean, and he could never forget the terrible heritage of his family.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Campbell finally said.

Rory shrugged. "You do not. Just as I do not know I can trust you."

Campbell said nothing. He took a piece of fruit and ate it, then tore off a chicken breast. "It is better than my earlier meal."

"I told them to feed you. I did not specify what."

"Moldy bread and water."

"I believe they were reluctant to give you even that much."

"They indicated as much." His gaze met Rory's. "You propose a trap then? When did you come up with this, ah, scheme?"

"On the ride back from the croft. I had to learn a few things first."

"About me?"

"Aye."

"And have you?"

"I have not discarded the idea. Yet."

"I have not agreed."

But he had. Rory saw it in his face. And, despite what he had said, so had he made up his mind.

It was not so much out of choice as it was of necessity.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, both weighing each other. Rory knew he was being judged as he was judging the other man. Neither obviously had certainty.

They both knew they were risking treason. They both knew they were doing it because of the same woman.

"Does Felicia know what you are planning?" Campbell asked after they had finished.

"Nay. And I do not think she should. I do not want to give her hope that could be dashed."

James Campbell raised an eyebrow. "You care about Campbells?"