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Craig offered Amy his elbow and she put her hand through his bent arm, the touch electrifying even through his thick cloak.

“Do ye enjoy yerself in the castle?” he asked.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Nae. I merely want to know if ye find the household to yer liking.”

She coughed. Everyone seemed to be cooking for themselves, it was dirty, the horses were not taken care of, and basically everyone could do whatever they wanted without any consequences. In essence, it was a giant medieval bachelor pad.

“Ehm, I think you and I both know the household is a mess.”

“Aye. That is what I think, too.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“Because I want yer help.”

“My help?” she scoffed. “Why should I help a man who holds me prisoner?”

He stopped, making her halt as well. He turned her to face him, so close the proximity melted the lower part of her body into Jell-O. He looked deeply into her eyes, overwhelming her with the heated promise in his. Then he took both of her shoulders in his hands.

“Marry me.”

Amy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Marry me. Run the household as my wife. And I will let ye go around unsupervised.”

Amy shook her head. “Marry you? Have you not been insisting all this time that I’m your enemy?”

“Aye. Well not ye personally. Ye belong to my enemy clan. But ye havna done anything—nae yet. Which is another reason. I can keep a closer eye on ye.”

Amy turned around and laughed. “This sounds absolutely insane. Do you hear yourself?”

Craig’s cheerfulness was gone. “I do not jest, Amy.”

These were insane times. Of course, people from the Middle Ages married for all kinds of reasons except love, but now she was a personal witness to the madness.

“So, you want to marry your prisoner to keep a closer eye on her and so that she will do your housework…”

Her words trailed off. Suddenly, she realized it. If Amy MacDougall from this time was engaged to some important Earl or something, this would break that engagement. Amy’s dad would probably be pissed.

“You want to stop my engagement.”

Craig smiled. “We’re enemies, lass. ’Twas Bruce who suggested our marriage to stop the MacDougall alliance with the Earl of Ross.”

So it was political.

“I will never agree to this.”

“Think about it. It will be handfasting, so for one year and one day. Ye will have the privileges of the lady of the castle here. Ye can go everywhere in the castle, nae outside of course. And once the year is over, ye are free to return to yer father.”

Amy inhaled deeply. These medieval times were so strange. Marriages for politics and money and whatnot. Not for love.

Ah, love. She had been married for love. And look where it got her.

Divorce.

So that year and a day didn’t sound like such a bad idea, actually.