Lachlan kept pace.

Neither had voiced what Jamie thought was on both of. their minds. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could reclaim their reputations.

They stopped only to rest their horses, and when they did, they did it in silence. Despite their common goal, trust was fragile thing between them.

Late in the second day they reached Edinburgh. They separated. Lachlan could not risk being seized by the crown or the Campbell in retaliation.

He had changed clothes, and Jamie noticed how well he fit into his new role of minstrel. He had a fine voice and a true ear for the lute.

Lachlan would disappear into Edinburgh. Jamie had suggested a tavern where he should stay. It was an establishment that Jamie could also visit without questions being asked.

As an adviser and confidant of the king, Jamie's father was staying at Edinburgh Castle, and Jamie would lodge there.

Jamie watched Lachlan take one road, then he took the other. He would lie to his father, and to his king. His stomach clenched. He was not at all sure he could do what was demanded of him. He had always been in awe of his father. He had never consciously lied to him.

Would the lie be reflected in his face?

He started up the steep road to the castle.

Felicia found a dress that she could put on herself. Robina, she thought, had probably been pressed into service elsewhere, now that there were so many Macleans flooding into the keep. In any case, she could do this for herself.

She combed her hair, a much easier task now it was so short, then she opened the door. She was surprised to find there was no longer a guard.

She went next door. Alina was sitting up, Baron lying down next to her. The dog barked, and Alina gave her a shy smile. All the fever was gone, and a pair of crutches were next to her bed.

Felicia pulled down the sheet covering her and looked at the wound. It was still ugly, but there were no red streaks.

"I think you are going to be just fine," she said.

Alina's smile broadened. "Moira said that, too."

"I see you have crutches."

"Aye. Lord Lachlan made them for me."

Felicia should have been surprised. Lachlan was said to have betrayed his clan. And yet he had found the time to design and make crutches for a child.

The puzzle deepened.

Lachlan cared about Alina. He cared about Inverleith. Though he tried to affect detachment, Felicia had always believed it came from a deep sadness that she had never totally understood.

And now someone wanted her to believe he was a traitor.

She simply didn't believe it.

But neither had she believed Rory Maclean could just walk away after last night. For a moment, she had wanted to throw something at him after he'd said he would take care of her.

As if she was a thing. Not a person who thought and cared and loved. But as a debt.

She was not a debt. She had done what she'd wanted to do. She had made a conscious decision to seduce him. She had wanted a taste of a world she thought she might never have again.

"Will you tell me the end of your story?" Alina asked, jerking her from her disturbing musings.

The story! She had no ending for it. She had thought then there would be a prince on a white horse. Her prince, however, had apparently put a price on her and then walked off.

"Perhaps tonight," she said.

She knew she would be alone.

She knew he would not be back.

Yet she could not blame him. He had never promised anything. He had, in fact, been fighting himself. That much had been obvious. She had invited everything.

So why was her heart breaking?

Jamie's father was in a towering rage.

"I will make them pay. By God, I will make them pay," Angus Campbell roared. "And you, lad, how could you leave her?"

"Would you rather pay ransom for both of us?"

His father glared at him. "Walking into a trap. Damn it lad, I thought I taught you better." Then he turned his ire on Felicia. "And how was she taken? Why did the chit not wait for my escort as she was told?"

"I imagine because she was not enthralled with your choice of a husband," Jamie retorted. "Is that why you sent me to London? You knew I would disapprove."

"It does not matter whether you approved or disapproved," his father said. "You do not make the decisions for this family. Or for Scotland."

"I do not ken your meaning."

"The match was not my making. It was the king's. He will be in rare fury." Then a sly smile crept over his face. "Mayhap it means the end of the Macleans. He will not like his will challenged."

"Then he will not like what I have to say," Jamie said.

His father narrowed his eyes. "What do you have to say?"

"James wants an alliance between the Campbells and Morneith to strengthen the clans against King Henry," Jamie started cautiously.

"Aye, we have information that Henry plans an invasion."

"Possibly with Morneith's assistance."

His father stared at him. "If this is to help your cousin..."

"Nay. I heard the information in London," Jamie lied. "Morneith has been promised land and title to turn on King James."

"I cannot believe it. His family has been a supporter of the Scottish crown since the Bruce."

Jamie shrugged. "Mayhap he feels his fortunes rest more with the English than his own king."

"What proof do you have?"

"Demned little," Jamie said. "But I have names of men he has contacted. I have terms I was told he wanted."

"You would not be telling me this to stop the wedding."

"Risk treason? Nay. I would not. I was riding back from London to tell you of what I heard, when I discovered Felicia was missing. And why."

For a second, his father averted his glance, then he went on attack. Jamie had known he would. Angus Campbell always did when he was in the wrong. He blustered. "If you have no proof, there is nothing but your word. And the word of a stripling next to Morneith's has little value."

Resentment filled Jamie at the description of him as a stripling. He struggled to control his temper. "And if it were true?"

"If it were true, I would hang the man myself," Angus said.

"Do you wish to know?"

Angus bristled. "I am loyal to King James. If there is someone who intends to betray him ..."

His voice faded away as if he were still unsure what to believe.

"You know his reputation," Jamie said.

"I know he is a libertine, but I have never heard anyone question his loyalty," his father said. "Who told you this calumny?"

"A friend of Buckingham's at the English court. He despised Morneith," he lied. "He wants war no more than we do."

"It is to English benefit to turn Scot against Scot."

"Aye, I understand that. But the Macdonald's lands were mentioned, and Maclean's, as the reward."

His father's eyes gleamed at the mention of Macleans, but the glow soon died. If the tale was true, the only way Morneith would get the land would be the defeat of King James, and that would mean the defeat of Campbells as well. Still, Jamie realized that Rory Maclean had been right. His father would have never believed any words that came from the Macleans.

"It could be a scheme of the Macleans to divide us," he said.

"Aye, I considered that. I still do."

"How did you escape?"

"The youngest Maclean. He was not pleased about his brother's return or Rory Maclean holding Felicia as a hostage. I promised him protection."

"You had no right to make such a promise. It is not binding on me."

"Aye it is. It is the word of a Campbell."

His father ignored that. "I will go to James about the rumor."

"Nay," Jamie said.

His father looked startled.

"Morneith would simply deny it," Jamie said.

"Then what..."

"I will tell Morneith privately that I know of the agreement, that I heard it from one of the participants. I will tell him of the sum agreed upon as well as the lands he would be granted."

"If you are right, he will kill you." A hint of worry crept into his father's voice. Or was it skepticism?

"Not if I tell him one other person knows. I will ask for a sum of money not to tell you or the king. I will arrange to meet him someplace where a king's man can overhear."

"Morneith is not a stupid man," his father said.

"Nay, but he could not risk not knowing exactly how much a danger I am. His head is at stake."

"I do not like it," his father said.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I can confront him."

"Then he will have time to get word to his English friends and find a way to bury all evidence of his bargain."

His father looked at him with a new awareness. Or wariness. "Does this have anything to do with your cousin?" he asked again.

"The betrothal makes me all the more determined to reveal the man as a traitor," Jamie admitted, "but it does not change the danger he presents to King James."

His father stared at him for a long time as if searching beneath the words. He was obviously weighing his own alternatives.

"How was she when you left her at Inverleith?"

There it was again, the small accusation. "She said she was being treated well. She looked well." He did not mention her shorn locks.

"And you? Did they hurt you?"

"A few bruises and cuts. A wet, cold cell."

His father's jaw clenched. "I will send soldiers tomorrow to fetch your cousin."

"Inverleith cannot be breached."

"Then I will starve them out. The king will assist me."

"You will be starving your niece as well," Jamie persisted, "Let us wait until we know about Morneith's motives."

"Their abduction of a Campbell is a challenge," his father said. "Our honor is at stake."

"You could pay the ransom."

His father's face reddened. "Not to Macleans. Have you lost your wits, lad? Do not let your affection for your cousin affect your head. I will send someone to William immediately and instruct him to prepare for a siege."