Beloved Imposter by PATRICIA POTTER Page B

and for very different reasons than he could possibly imagine. Feeling very much at a disadvantage in the bed, she attacked. “Is it your custom to invade a lady’s bedchamber?”
    He looked startled at being challenged. “You have not demanded to be taken home.”
    “You already told me you were sending me there. Did you lie?”
    He scowled. “I do not lie.”
    “You just kidnap brides.”
    “A mistake was made. My men believed you were in trouble. You were alone.”
    “Archibald said you needed a bride.”
    His expression did not change as the lie was exposed.
    He shrugged. “Archibald has fantasies. I hope Moira has made you comfortable. I will personally escort you to your father tomorrow. We will leave at dawn.”
    She merely nodded.
    “If there is nothing else I can do, I would leave you to your rest,” he said stiffly.
    “There is nothing.”
    He did not leave immediately. Instead, his eyes studied hers even as she did the same. She found it difficult to tear her gaze from his compelling face, his watchful eyes. She doubted he missed much.
    It did not make sense. None of it did. Why did his clansmen feel they had to go to such extraordinary measures? Their lord was not ill-favored, though there was a sense of aloneness about him. Most women, she was sure, would find him appealing.
    She flushed as warmth washed through her. Blithely ignoring reason, she did not want him to go. She wanted to know about this Maclean. It was madness, she knew.
    He was an enemy. And she was plain Felicia Campbell. Pledged to a monster.
    He hesitated at the door as if he wished to say more. Again their gazes met, held, and she felt a rush of her heartbeat. She had a wild desire to feel his arms around her again. For that brief moment in the courtyard, she had felt safe. More than safe.
    She didn’t understand her conflicting feelings. She had the desire to linger, to learn more of him, while he expressed nothing but an urgency to rid himself of her. Reason told her he had likely known of the abduction and simply had been disappointed in her.
    In spite of reason and his insistence that she leave on the morrow, she thought she saw a flash of awareness in those wary eyes, a glint of masculine interest.
    Impossible.
    She only wanted it to be true. More the fool, she.
    “I wish you a restful night, my lady,” he said again.
    She closed her eyes as he left the room, but his presence lingered, a strong masculine power that made her wish she were not a Campbell and that she had Janet’s fair countenance.
    Wishing would not make it so. She could not change the facts. She must have mistaken the sudden glint in his eyes.
    She had to think of a way to prevent her departure in the morning. She could not be taken to the Camerons and exposed, and ultimately returned to her uncle.
    She had to find a way to leave the keep alone. Undetected. There must be a private exit somewhere.
    She would find it. She had to.
    Chapter 5
    Janet Cameron was the most puzzling female he’d ever met.
    Rory went down to the great hall to sup, even as the lass remained in his thoughts. It was the first time in several years that a woman had raised more than a fleeting physical reaction in him.
    He didn’t understand why. Though she had been hailed as a beauty, she was more intriguing than lovely. No quaking lass, she.
    Her face was interesting, if not beautiful. None of the parts went together—the wide eyes, the button nose, the square chin—and yet they were appealing to him. The bulk of her clothes had been deceptive. The robe had swayed when she moved and could not conceal the graceful outlines of her slender body.
    God’s breath, but those eyes held challenge.
    She was as unlike Maggie as any woman could be. Maggie had been gently rounded and her nature had been kind, She had been a dreamer who saw the best in everyone. She liked everyone and expected everyone to like her. They always had.
    She’d loved flowers and sun-filled May days. She rejoiced in