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But the worst thing was, she did have a secret to hide.
A big secret he’d never forgive her for. And the trust between them was so fragile now, they wouldn’t stand a chance if he found out that she wasn’t who he thought she was.
And that she had planned to leave him all along. So why was she thinking about the survival of their relationship at all?
But she added a bit of salt to his bowl of stew and an extra pinch of dried parsley to make it tastier for him. She washed his clothes because he was busy questioning every person who’d been in the castle that night—and there were about hundred and fifty. She brought him ale and water when his eyelids were heavy and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
She couldn’t help it.
She’d fallen in love with him.
That realization scared her more than anything. They had been doomed from the beginning. Jenny waited for her on the other side of that tunnel through time, abandoned, alone, and worried.
And no way would she leave her sister alone like her father had left Amy.
How long could she keep this farce up anyway? Sooner or later, Craig would find out that she wasn’t the Amy MacDougall he’d thought she was. And then she’d surely end up like that woman from Elspeth’s story.
Condemned as crazy.
Or worse, killed as a witch.
No. She needed to go.
Now.
The longer she waited, the harder it would be to leave Craig.
But how? Now everyone in the castle was careful and wary. How would she ever get close to the rock again?
Help came unexpectedly.
She had gone to use the latrine, a tiny closet attached to the Comyn bedchamber and protruding into the air from the wall. There was no toilet paper, and she had to use hay. But she didn’t mind. She’d had to go to the bathroom in the woods many times and was used to the simplicity. What she missed, was washing her hands. So she’d brought a jar with water and a bar of soap, and washed her hands right above the toilet hole.
Her business done, she left the latrine to go to the kitchen and start on the dinner, but there was someone else in the room.
Hamish.
He was frowning at the bed, which was now clean of blood—Amy had made sure of it. Still, Craig and she didn’t want to sleep there, and instead, settled on the floor by the fireplace at night. It wasn’t as comfortable, but better that than sleep in a bed where someone had just been murdered.
“Hamish, what is it?” Amy asked.
He glanced back at the door.
“Is everything okay? Does Craig need me?”
“I need to speak to ye, lass,” he said.
“Sure, why don’t you tell me on the way to the kitchen. I need to start the dinner.”
“Nae. I canna risk anyone overhearing.”
She inhaled, uneasiness settling in her chest in an iron clasp. “All right.”
He cleared his throat. “’Tis about what ye were looking for in the underground storeroom.”
Amy’s pulse jumped. Hamish calmly watched her from under his thick eyebrows.
“I was looking for bacon.”
