"Just rumors."

Jamie said little until they reached the anteroom of the Campbell rooms. Lachlan was in the chamber next to this one. His father would probably stay with the king, especially as long as Morneith remained.

Jamie had some of the very good wine he had served Morneith. He poured a full measure in Ian Stewart's goblet, then one for himself.

"My father thinks highly of you," he said.

"I am honored."

"He said you are extremely loyal to the king."

Ian placed the goblet on a table and gave him a piercing stare. "Of course."

In for a pence, in for a pound. "I have reason to believe Morneith has been paid by the English to betray King James."

Ian's hand jerked, knocking the wine over. "That is a dangerous charge."

"But not as dangerous as a traitor in court, or on the field. What if part of an army suddenly turned in the midst of battle?"

Ian paled.

"I am not making charges easily. The information came from France, which has spies in the English court. I wanted to make sure before I said anything. I engaged him in conversation, told him that we had friends in common in the English court, and mentioned Buckingham's name. I also told him I wished the same arrangement he had, as well as some of the gold he'd received. The next night, four men ambushed and tried to kill me."

Stewart's face was grim. "If this is true, I will kill him myself."

"I need your help. Dugald Cameron overheard the conversation. He will testify to it. But it is not enough. The words could be interpreted in different ways. My father also believes it, but the three of us are linked together. I am betrothed to Cameron's daughter. We need a witness who is not connected to us. I heard you have the king's ear."

"I try not to take advantage of it."

"Which is why my father suggested you."

"I will do what I can," Stewart said, "but we must be careful. There can be no question as to his guilt, or his armies might rise against James."

Jamie outlined his plan.

Felicia turned and looked at Rory as they reached Edinburgh.

His face was tired and drawn, and she knew hers was probably the same. It was usually a four-day hard ride from Inverleith to Edinburgh.

They had made it in three by changing horses frequently. Rory had enough coin to purchase a horse for Felicia. They had traded for fresh mounts along the way.

When they stopped for a few hours to sleep, they were both exhausted. The first time they slept apart, but the second time the wind was cold and wet, and she fitted into his arms. He had wrapped them both in the plaid he had brought along, and despite his betrayal she had felt she belonged there.

Yet he said nothing about love. He worried about her. He felt responsible for her. He lusted after her. She had come to believe, though, that he did not, could not, love her because of his past. He had mourned two wives. He'd made it clear he did not want another.

She was angry. Angry and hurt and disappointed. And yet she was still drawn to him. Every time he helped her mount or dismount, she felt that raw longing and burning heat he always ignited in her. She found herself glancing at him far too often.

But now they had reached Edinburgh. Her uncle was here. Lachlan and Jamie were here.

All she could think of, though, was losing the man next to her. Thoughts of how empty her life would be overrode the anger, the resentment.

He turned his face toward hers. "You will not marry Morneith," he pledged.

But even that did not matter now. She knew she could never have Rory, Laird of the Macleans.

*Chapter 29*

Rory had never been at court, nor did he know many who had. His shipping offices were in Leith, not Edinburgh.

He could not move openly as the Maclean laird. As far as he knew, King James and Angus Campbell thought he held Felicia. He was very aware of the fate of the first Maclean who had harmed a Campbell lass, the one who had chained his wife to a rock. He had been stabbed to death in his bed.

It was growing dark when he found an inn near Edinburgh Castle. He engaged but one room, knowing it would seem odd to request a room for an apprentice. He also did not want to let her out of sight, not out of distrust, but out of worry for her. The fear of her coming to harm during her flight was still too vivid for comfort.

The room was small and dark. A smoky fireplace filled one side of the room, a narrow bed and a table another. He would be sleeping on the floor this night.

"What do we do now?" Felicia asked.

He had to find Lachlan. He had the name of the tavern Lachlan mentioned in the message that was sent through the acting captain of the 'Lady.' He hesitated to take Felicia to a tavern, but he hesitated even more to leave her alone. Only God knew what she would do, and perhaps not Him.

"We are going to a tavern," he said.

Her eyes lit. "I have never been to one."

"I would hope not," he said, and she grinned at him, her anticipation at doing the forbidden overcoming her earlier anger.

He tried to scowl at the anticipation in her eyes, but the truth was she only endeared herself to him even more. She had an appetite for life and a curiosity about all things that never ceased to delight him. He thought how much he would love to show her foreign cities. In his mind's eye, he would see the wonder in her face as she saw Paris, India, Gibraltar.

He wondered if she would enjoy the sea as well. He suspected she would love it as he did, and he pictured her aboard his three master, her hair blowing in the wind, and her cheeks rosy from the wind and sheer sensual pleasure of the sea. He never would have entertained that thought about Maggie or Anne.

But Felicia was made for adventure.

It astonished him that he had such thoughts, that he saw her in his future at all, much less at his side in his voyages...

The innkeeper gave them directions to the tavern. The night was cold again. A fine mist filled the air. Felicia shivered at his side, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. He tried to ignore the reaction of his body. He could not afford distraction. Not now.

At the tavern, he asked the barmaid about a troubadour, while Felicia waited in the shadows, her gaze darting all around the large common ground.

"I have not seen him in several days," the proprietor said with a shrug.

Rory felt a tightening in his chest. If Lachlan had succeeded, the news of Morneith's treason would be everywhere. Something had happened to him.

He should never have trusted Jamie Campbell. Nor should he have thrust such a mission on Lachlan. He damned himself, and he damned the Campbell.

He nodded to Felicia, and she followed him out the door and into the street. The fine mist was still falling.

"He will be all right," she said.

"God help your cousin if he is not."

She was silent as they returned to the inn. He was bedeviled by possibilities. What had happened?

He could not seek out James Campbell. The Maclean laird would make a fine prize if he had misjudged the Campbell heir, and his clan would pay dearly if he were taken for ransom. Was Lachlan already a prisoner?

"He would not betray you," Felicia said, obviously reading his thoughts.

"You thought he had betrayed 'you'," he shot back, once more inexplicably jealous at her defense of the Campbell.

She frowned at him. "'You' tried to make me think that."

He ignored that observation. When they arrived back at the inn, he asked the proprietor for a quill, ink, and paper to pen a missive. He wrote quickly, then asked for wax to seal it.

'Now to deliver it.'

"Will you promise to stay here?" he asked Felicia.

"Nay. I want to go with you."

She had the cap on, and she looked up at him with those expressive blue eyes and defiant chin. He was not going to win this particular battle. He had, in truth, won few battles with her.

They walked from the inn toward the castle. As he neared it, he noticed the large numbers of soldiers guarding it. The king must be in residence. He stopped one and asked if he could send a message to one of the guests inside. He offered a pence as payment.

The guard accepted both note and payment and disappeared into the castle.

Rory turned Felicia around and walked away. He could only hope that the message would be delivered. And that he was not walking into a trap. He would watch from a distance and make sure Jamie was alone before joining him at the chapel.

Jamie was with Lachlan when the message arrived.

He took it from the messenger and broke the wax. He read it hurriedly. 'I am in Edinburgh and must meet you. St. Margaret's Chapel tonight. Your cousin is with me'.

It was a demand and a warning.

What in God's name was Rory Maclean doing here?

He looked up from the parchment and met Lachlan's gaze. "What is it?" Lachlan asked.

"Your brother is here."

"I knew he would grow impatient," Lachlan said. "But I thought we would have more time."

"Felicia is with him."

Lachlan winced.

"He wants me to meet him, and I will have to do it. I am meeting with Morneith tomorrow night. I do not want interference."

"You cannot go out alone. Morneith will be waiting for you."

Jamie swore. "If I do not, your brother might well show up here. He or Felicia. And I cannot take Campbell men with me. If they realized the Maclean was here ..."

He looked at the message again. Blazes take the man. He could ruin everything. And how could he even think of bringing Felicia? His blood ran cold. If Morneith knew ...

"I must go."

Lachlan struggled to a sitting position. "I will--"

"Nay. I know this castle. I can find a way out."

He left before Lachlan could utter another protest.

He called in a Campbell servant, changed clothes with him, and stepped outside the room. No one in the corridors. He stayed to the shadows, walked down to the servants' area, and waited until several were ready to leave. He joked that he was trying to avoid a certain, persistent lady. They leered at him, obviously enjoying the discomfort of a lord, but they surrounded him and in minutes they reached the courtyard and left through the gates. Once well through the gates, they separated, but not before Jamie gave each a coin. He knew if they were paid, they would be more than agreeable to participate in such a ruse again if needed.

He nodded at the soldiers guarding the gate and continued down the steep road. With the King in residence, the streets were crowded, making it easy to blend in. He did not think he was being followed.

He reached the church and stepped inside. No one was about, so he selected a pew and sat down.

He did not know how long he waited before he was aware of a presence behind him. He leaned back on the bench.

"Where is Lachlan?" came the Maclean's voice at his ear.

He turned and looked around. Rory knelt behind him, his head bent as if in prayer.

"I was attacked by four men," Jamie replied in a low voice. "Morneith, undoubtedly. I had contacted him and suggested that I knew a great deal about his meeting with the English. I was going to tell Lachlan about the meeting but he noticed men following me, and he followed them. When they attacked me, he joined in the fight and was wounded. He is in my rooms at Edinburgh Castle."

Rory absorbed the information, fear for Lachlan settling in his gut. "How is he?"

"He may lose an arm. He has the best of care. One of the king's physicians."

Jamie heard an intake of breath, then a curse. He waited a moment, then asked, "Where is Felicia?"

Rory was silent.

"It is time we trust one another," Jamie said.

"She's safe," Rory said simply.

"Why did you bring her to Edinburgh?"

"She escaped from the castle, stole a horse, and planned to return to your father to prevent any more bloodshed. I found her on the road to Edinburgh. I knew that if I returned her to Inverleith, she would try to escape again, and I have little doubt that she would succeed." He sighed heavily. "I told her everything, and even then I realized she would try to get here, this time to help you.

"Bringing her with me was the only way to keep her from doing something reckless. At least now I can keep an eye on her." He paused. "And I had not heard anything from you."

"Morneith was with the king on a hunting trip," Jamie said. "He just returned. There was nothing to report."