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He put the point against his heart. Amy’s stomach flipped.
“Take it,” he said. “Kill me. Now.”
“Craig—” she said, her voice trembling.
“Then yer mission will be complete. Yer father will rejoice. Ye can marry the Earl of Ross.”
She shook her head. Her chest tightened further, making it hard to breathe. “Stop it this minute! I don’t want to kill you.”
His arms fell, and he put the dagger back into his belt.
“Oh nae, wait. Ye canna kill me yet. There’s one more thing ye need, do ye not? That is why I am still alive, aye?”
“I don’t need anything from you except freedom.”
Craig chuckled. “Ye can pretend really well. Aye, MacDougall blood, what can I say.”
He stepped away from her and looked her up and down. “So ye deny it? Ye deny writing this?”
He held the paper out, but it was too far to read the tiny script.
“I didn’t write anything, and I sure as hell didn’t send this. I don’t want you or anyone dead.”
“Why is it that ye wanted access to the whole castle, Amy? Is there something specific ye’re looking for?”
Her body went as stiff as wood, and Amy exhaled to relieve the tension. What did he know? Did he suspect she was looking for the rock? Was he even aware of it? If he thought she was a witch or something, surely he’d kill her. Or lock her away somewhere dark forever… A tremor went through her, and she moved to the fireplace to warm herself.
Get yourself together, she commanded. He isn’t locking you up again. Not yet.
She turned to him, her head high, her shoulders straight.
“I have absolutely no idea where this message came from, what is in it, or who wrote it. I do not want to kill you. I’m not a murderer, I save people’s lives for God’s sake. And I know you don’t trust me—you have no reason to—and I don’t know how to prove my innocence. But I have nothing to do with this.”
His heavy, piercing gaze bored into her. It was as though he saw beneath her skin. She held his eyes, even though hers burned and she needed to blink.
Then he smiled, and a sense of relief went through her.
“Mayhap, it was nae ye who wrote this. That would be too easy.
“But it doesna mean ye’re not involved,” he continued. “So I will be even more careful. We will sleep together in one room because we’re marrit now. And because I need to know what ye do and with whom. Ye’re under my watch now, Amy, understood?”
Amy sighed. “What’s not to understand? But if you sleep here, you can’t sleep in the bed—understood?”
“We are man and wife. I have every right to take ye. Ye’re mine.”
The ground shifted under her feet, heat suddenly flushing through her.
“Do not even dare,” she said. “You promised, nothing will be done against my will. I do not give my permission for sex. I do not want you, do you hear?”
His face turned dark. “Aye, Amy.” He walked away from her, then turned for a moment. “Dinna fash, I wilna touch ye. Not now. Not ever.”
And he left the room, leaving her breathless…and strangely disappointed.
Chapter 12
Amy didn’t return to the great hall, and her seat felt empty next to Craig. In fact, he felt empty. His mind was not here, not now, but with her, up in the tower. It was their wedding night. The night they were supposed to consummate the marriage.
And his bride didn’t want anything to do with him. Which was exactly what he should expect from this marriage. And he shouldn’t want anything to do with her, either.
