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“Since I marrit a MacDougall now,” Craig said, cringing about lying to his clansman, “I thought maybe ye kent some of them. Did ye ever go to MacDougall gatherings? Visit yer relatives from yer grandmother’s side?”

“Once or twice, while Granny was alive. A couple of cousins also visited, I reckon.”

“Are ye still in contact with them?”

Lachlan’s face sobered. “Nae. Dinna ken where they are or what they do. Dinna want to, either. Not after what Alasdair did to Marjorie. Do ye need something from the MacDougalls, cousin? Say a word and I’ll find the shites.”

Guilt stabbed Craig. Lachlan seemed to be completely innocent, honest, and oblivious to Craig’s suspicions.

Could the relative he’d known his whole life plot such treachery?

Losing his grandfather and having seen what the MacDougalls did to Marjorie, Craig had sworn to never be so naive and trusting, and to never let another MacDougall betray him or his family.

He just couldn’t allow himself to completely trust Lachlan.

The truth was, he couldn’t allow himself to trust anyone.

“Nae, not now, cousin.” Craig squeezed Lachlan’s shoulder. “I’ll ask ye again if I need to. ’Tis good to ken for now.”

“Aye. Then let me congratulate ye on yer marriage personally and wish ye many years of health and happiness.” He took two cups from the table, gave one to Craig and clunked it with his. “Let us drink.”

Chapter 13

The next morning, Amy woke up with a headache and stomach cramps. Her period had started. Thank God for the tampons she had in her backpack. What did women even do in the Middle Ages?

She didn’t have anyone to ask. Clearly, she wouldn’t ask Craig.

Craig had come to sleep in the bedchamber last night, but he hadn’t gotten into the bed with her. He’d slept by the fireplace, covered in sheepskins and furs. In the morning, he’d left before she’d woken up. So she had privacy to dress. Somehow, it was comforting to have him in the room with her. Being a stranger here, not just from another continent but another time…

It was lonely.

She was used to being alone back in Vermont, but this was different. She couldn’t be herself. Every day here, she pretended. She watched what she said and how she behaved.

But today was a new day, and all she needed to do was get one step closer to the rock in the storeroom. One step closer to getting out of here—which seemed even more important now that Craig thought she wanted to kill him!

So there was a killer in the castle, someone who meant business… And that was all her clan’s doing—well, her ancestors, anyway. Which meant Craig was in real danger.

She wanted to help him, but what could she do about it?

It wasn’t her life, and it wasn’t her business. Her business was back in her own time, helping Jenny out, making sure her little sister didn’t feel abandoned and alone taking care of their dad. Amy had better get out of here as soon as possible.

She was now Craig’s wife and the lady of the castle or whatever, so she needed to run the household.

A perfect excuse to visit the underground storeroom, to check what was available for meals.

She marched through the courtyard into the eastern tower. She opened the door and froze. Two guards stood by the entrance to the downstairs.

Why would Craig put guards here? What were they guarding? Not the rock, surely…

“Mistress.” One of them nodded, watching her carefully.

“Hello, gentlemen.” She bit her lip. Based on their confused expressions, they had no idea what “gentlemen” meant. Never mind, she thought. Shoulders straight, chin high, continue pretending you know what you’re doing. “I need to see what’s downstairs in the storeroom, to plan for the meals.”

They looked at each other, frowning.

“Now,” she said.

“Canna let ye in, mistress,” one of them said. “Lord was strict about that.”