Felicia searched her memory. "There was once a young maiden who lived with her father in the woods," she said. "He hunted for food and found fuel for the fire.

"But she was very lonely. There were no children to play with, nor as she grew older, no young man to seek her out. One day, she took a walk and found the most beautiful waterfall she had ever seen, and she started to go there every day.

"She made friends of the forest animals who ventured to the waterfall, including a young fawn and its mother. There were hares, and squirrels who would eat from her fingers. And birds that would fly down and flutter around her. Even a wolf joined them. It seemed there was a truce around the magical waterfall.

"And she learned from them. They showed her how to find the choicest mushrooms and greens and onions. Yet she wondered who would come and share the magical kingdom with her.

"Then her father hurt himself with the axe, and she had to stay and take care of him. There was little food, and she did not know how she could feed them.

"The animals waited for her to come to the waterfall, but after several days without her, the deer decided to find out why. She very cautiously ventured near the small croft, knowing that the girl had warned her many times that her father hunted animals and she must remain hidden during the day."

Alina's eyes had brightened as she listened intently. "What happened?"

"Sofia--her name was Sofia--went outside. A tear fell from one of her eyes as she told the deer what had happened. The other animals gathered around, wanting to help, but none knew what to do. They did not care for the hunter, but they had come to love Sofia, who was so kind, and they did not want to see her so sad.

"Then the deer turned and ran away. The hares, though, stayed, knowing they were safe. The birds took perches around the croft. The wolf joined them, ignoring the hares that ran back and forth in distress.

"They were all guarding Sofia ..."

Felicia heard the door opening softly, and she saw Lachlan in the doorway. The flickering lights of the candle cast shadows across his face, giving the usually open face a dark, secretive look.

"I thought you might be here," he said, then cast a look at Alina. "And how's my favorite lass?" he asked.

Alina's eyes sparkled with pleasure. "I am much better, milord."

"I am not 'milord,'" he corrected, "I am Lachlan. And I am very pleased to see you looking so well."

"I want to have my hair cut like Lady--" she stopped herself, obviously not quite sure what to call her visitor.

"She does look charming," Lachlan said easily. "But for now I thought she might like to see the foal she named."

"She was telling me a story," Alina protested.

Felicia leaned over her. "You need some rest. I will tell you more tomorrow."

"Will you sing a song first?" Alina pleaded.

Felicia looked at Lachlan. "Mayhap Lachlan would play the lute for us as well."

"Oh, yes," Alina said, her face glowing. "Please."

Lachlan looked as if he were about to refuse, then he ruffled Alina's long, dark hair and leaned down.

"Lady Felicia looks charming, but I truly like your long hair." He straightened up. "I will be back."

In minutes he returned with the lute in his hand. He started strumming a tune.

She meant to sing along with him, but something about him stopped her. He had always seemed alone, somehow apart from his clansmen. There was an impenetrable sadness about him, one he tried to hide behind a light-hearted facade.

He looked at her, and for a moment his eyes were bleak, but then they seemed to smile again. "You were going to sing," he reminded her.

She did, and wondered whether her own confused emotions were evident as well.

Rory forced himself to stay away from the Campbells.

Instead he went to the box in his chamber where he kept the opium. Before he left again for the sea he would give more to Moira, making sure that she understood its power.

He broke away a very small piece. It would go in the wine of the man guarding the Campbell tonight.

He then went to the window and looked out. Night had replaced dusk, and the sky was dotted with stars and framed by a part-moon. No clouds tonight, no mist. Only clear, cold night.

Fires burned in the courtyard; small groups of soldiers huddled together. Women and children were using the great hall to sleep.

The sound of pipes reached him, the plaintive wail matching his mood. The sound usually stirred him. It was as wild and untamed as the Highlands and its soldiers. Now it merely deepened the loneliness.

He was frightened for Lachlan. For his clan. And for Felicia, if his poor plan failed to work.

He wanted to go to Felicia's room, to push away the uncertainty that plagued him. It was one reason he asked Lachlan to do so.

Could Lachlan carry out the masquerade? Would the Campbell turn on them? Would Morneith be so foolish as to walk into their trap? Was his information true, or had it been a French attempt to sow even more distrust between the Scots and the English?

Beneath him, the fires revealed two figures leaving the tower and moving toward the stable. He recognized his brother's lanky form and Felicia's smaller, graceful one. He wished he could see the pleasure in Felicia's eyes as she watched the foal. It was a gangling animal already showing signs of beauty and breeding.

He found himself moving toward the door, then down the stairs, and toward the stable. Lachlan would be a buffer between them.

He greeted the clansmen he knew, realizing how many he did not know, how long he had been gone. But each looked at him with trust.

God help him keep it The door to the stable was cracked, and he slid inside and walked toward the stall holding the mare and her baby. He stayed back as he heard her talk softly to the foal.

"Bonny lass. All legs and eyes, but you will be such a fine filly. She is, isn't she, Lachlan? She is quite exceptional."

"Aye, she is. And do not forget she is yours. Rory gave her to you."

"But that was before he knew who I was."

"Rory never breaks promises," Lachlan said. "It is a fault as much as a virtue."

"Why?"

"Because life is never black and white, all one way or another. Circumstances change, and what seems so clear one moment may not be so clear another."

Rory sensed that Lachlan was speaking as much about himself as about Rory. But it was an arrow hitting its mark. He had lived in a self-imposed isolation because he had been helpless to save those he loved. And he had judged others by his own rigid standards.

"He is lonely, is he not?"

"Aye, I believe so."

A silence then, and he could see in his mind's eye her fingers stroking the foal. He hurt inside. More than hurt. He felt his soul bleeding. Loneliness was a writhing snake within him. His brother was leaving on what could be a fatal mission. Felicia was forbidden. His older brother was missing.

He stepped out of the shadows and approached them.

Lachlan looked surprised, then slightly amused.

Felicia looked startled, then wary.

'Did he look so fearsome then'? Rory looked at her. "I came to take a ride," he lied. "I could not but help hear part of the conversation. The foal is yours, my lady. There were no conditions."

"Thank you," she said, then, "May I go with you?"

"It is cold, my lady."

"I have been cold before. About ten days ago, in truth."

"But that was not your choice."

She looked up at him. "That is not entirely true," she parried. "But I would enjoy a ride."

"I intend to ride hard." Another fabrication. He would not risk his animal by riding fast at night, not without a need to do so.

"I am a good rider."

He did not doubt it. He knew he should say no, but she had been a prisoner here for too long. He also knew she would not try to escape as long as her cousin was here.

Which would not be very long at all.

Could he deny her a few hours of pleasure? Even at a cost of a few hours of agony for him? Rory glanced up at Lachlan for assistance. He found none.

"I will saddle the horses," Lachlan offered.

Rory could have hit him.

"My--Janet's mare is here," Felicia said eagerly. Her eyes were brighter than he'd seen them since he'd discovered who she was.

Rory tried one last time. "The wind will be fierce along the coast."

"Of course," she said, looking at him as if the comment was beneath him.

He shook his head. She was as unlike Maggie and Anne as anyone could be. Both of them had relished peace. Felicia Campbell relished challenges.

He knew it was a mistake, but at the same time it seemed safe enough. A short ride to the cliffs and back. A bit of freedom for both of them.

He needed to get away from the keep and the concerns that tortured him. She needed a release from what must seem a prison to her.

If there were second thoughts, they had no time to surface. The stable lad brought Rory's favorite gelding to him, and Lachlan saddled Felicia's mare.

He helped her mount, then mounted himself.

They walked the horses to the gate, and Rory ordered them opened.

Once outside the walls, he guided them toward the point that overlooked the sea. The moon was bright enough to see the joy on her face as the cold wind buffeted them. She was as at ease on a horse as he was, and that was rare for a woman. But the exhilaration, whether it came from the ride itself or the freedom she felt, was obvious.

He felt it, too. It was something all too rare, this wild, uncomplicated surge of pleasure, the sharing of it with another person. He turned on a path that led to the sea.

They stopped on a cliff, and he dismounted. He helped her down from the mare. The moment he did and felt a surge of excitement, he knew it was a mistake. Yet he had known from the moment they left the gates behind that this would happen.

The wind blew the hood of her cloak off her head, and the short hair curled tighter in the damp wind that swept off the sea. The sea below was frothing, dancing high against the land.

He had been here days ago. He had been alone then, and lonely beyond bearing, and for some reason he'd felt the need to bring her here and fill the great gaping wound that had been his heart.

Now warm blood surged through his body, and he felt alive for the first time in many years.

She was close, probably too close, and she moved into his arms just as they opened to her. Both moves, he knew, were instinctive rather than planned, an inevitable joining.

It was what he had feared, and what he had needed.

It was why he had tried to stay away from her, yet agreed to allow her to accompany her on this ride.

He'd told himself she needed it, deserved it, but it was as much his own need that had spurred his action.

But none of that mattered as he looked down at her and saw her upturned face. Her eyes reflected the stars above, and her hair was bathed in moonlight.

He touched her face with his fingers, tracing the stubborn jut of her jaw up to the thick lashes that framed her blue eyes. Her short hair curled around his small finger like fringes of silk. Tenderness flooded him, as he ran his fingers through her hair, then pulled her to him.

She melted into his body as if she belonged there.

He bent his head and rested it on her hair, drinking up the scent of roses mixed with the tangy perfume of the sea. It was intoxicating.

She moved and looked up at him with wide eyes full of expectation and wonder and bewilderment. So many emotions. He understood all of them, for they battled for his newly found heart as well.

His lips touched her cheeks, caressed them, then moved down to her lips. They met his as eagerly has he sought hers.

A wave hit the cliff and sent mist spraying against them. His arms tightened around her, his heat igniting hers.

And on the cliff that overlooked the sea that had birthed a legend--and a curse--decades earlier, Rory sought to defeat it.

Some destiny had brought them together. If not destiny, then the devil. He was not sure which. At this moment he did not care. He only knew that she had become his lodestone.

Their lips joined with a fierceness that nothing could break, a natural joining of something right and destined.

She responded hungrily, opening her mouth to his, her hands embracing him with the same frenetic desperation as his. Need begat a passion so deep and strong, he felt as if fire were consuming him. Their mouths savaged each other with a wild need to touch and feel and taste. To claim something that was forbidden, to make the impossible possible.

Need burned all the way through him, until nothing mattered except Felicia Campbell and the way she made him feel. Whole and alive. So very alive.

Her body melded against his, and he could feel every curve though her cloak. His body tensed, reacted, and hers responded by moving even closer until he felt he would explode with need. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to be swept away. Electric tension vibrated around them, enclosing them in a private world of their own.

He did not want to let go. Instead he crushed her to him. His hands stroked down from her hair, along her back as his tongue entered her mouth, probing, seducing, and she met each exploration with an eagerness that surprised and delighted him. More than delighted. She touched a place in him that no one had ever reached before, the deep private part of him he'd always kept barricaded against invasion, even from Maggie.

He released her lips and moved his own along the contours of her face. He felt her breath, warm and quick. Lightning leaped between them, jagged and violent, blinding with intensity.