Beloved Imposter by PATRICIA POTTER Read Free Book Online

sending you home as soon as you are well rested.”
    She shivered, and he was not sure whether it was from fear or the cold Highland wind that blew through the bailey. All her clothes were damp. Her eyes regarded him warily.
    He had heard of Janet Cameron. There had even been talk of an alliance between her and Patrick. He also knew that she was pledged to Jamie Campbell. He tried to tamp the fury bubbling inside. The Campbells most assuredly would retaliate. That meant more Maclean deaths.
    The lady did not reply. He could not blame her. She had been stolen by men she did not know, forced to ride long and hard in wet, cold weather.
    Any gentle maiden would be stunned with fear.
    He turned to Archibald. “She will be returning. Rest your horses and prepare to ride on the morrow.” He turned back to the woman. “My cook will make you comfortable and find you warm clothing. We have no lady’s maids, but there are scullery maids that can assist you.” He did not like feeling awkward and in the wrong. It didn’t matter that others had put him there. He was responsible, God help him.
    She still didn’t speak. Why did she not rage at him? The silence made him feel even worse.
    Even in Edinburgh, he had heard of Lady Janet Cameron’s beauty. He searched for a hint of it, but it eluded him.
    He told himself that if he had been hauled across many miles in a cold Scotland mist, he, too, might look worse than he would like.
    He bowed. “I am Rory Maclean, Lady Janet. I assure you this is a mistake,” he said, afraid she hadn’t understood his earlier attempt to explain. “You will not be harmed in any way, and I will see you returned immediately.”
    Her gaze did not waver as she regarded him, but he could read little in it.
    “Your men were considerate,” she said. She spoke in a low mellow voice. Only the slightest tremor was audible.
    “As well they should have been,” he said abruptly, his anger barely under control. But he did not wish to frighten her. “I will see to your comfort and send word to the Camerons,” he said.
    She swayed slightly at that. She was obviously exhausted.
    He took her arm and guided her toward the great hall, but her foot slipped in the mud. He caught her as she started to fall, and her body leaned into his as she struggled to remain upright. She looked up at him as the hood slipped from her head.
    Despite her reputation as a beauty, her face was plain except for her eyes. Her face was more square than oval, her mouth too wide, and her nose small, like a button. He could tell little about her hair, but a dark red ringlet curled tightly against her face. Although it wasn’t beautiful, it was an intriguing face, an appealing one.
    What was extraordinary was her controlled expression. There was no hysteria, nor apparent anger, and that stunned him.
    She should be angry. Fearful. Indignant at the very least.
    He picked her up to avoid getting her skirts muddier than they already were and confirmed his earlier impression that the bulk was more cloth than body. Her clothes smelled of damp wool, but there was another scent as well. Light and flowery.
    It reminded him of another woman. Too much. A jolt of heat struck him.
    He saw a satisfied smile on Archibald’s face and knew it was long past time to have a discussion with his captain of the guard.
    A clansman ran ahead and opened the door.
    Rory entered and set the lady back on her feet, ignoring the stunned look on her face. He wondered whether she had felt the same jolt that he had. But no, that was ridiculous. He had been long without a woman. ‘Twas only natural urges.
    “Moira,” he bellowed and noticed that Janet Cameron flinched slightly.
    “She will see to your comfort,” he said, anxious that his reluctant guest feel safe until he could send her home without bringing harm to her reputation or his rebellious clan.
    He would send word ahead to the Camerons.
    Then he caught himself. He needed to know the exact circumstances of the