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And before she could do anything, he dragged her out of the underground chamber.

Chapter 18

“What were ye doing there?” Craig roared.

Irvin had eventually found Craig in the lord’s bedchamber, where Craig had gone looking for Amy after finishing his stew. He’d thought she’d join him in the great hall, but she had never showed up. Now he knew why.

Craig saw red. To the devil, he didn’t remember the last time he’d been so furious and felt so betrayed.

No.

Wait.

He did.

When Alasdair MacDougall had kidnapped and raped Marjorie.

Amy gaped at him, sorry, confused, disappointed.

“She was looking at a rock with some sort of pagan carving and a handprint,” Irvin said.

“I never noticed anything like that.” Craig shook his head.

“Thank ye, Irvin,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go.”

When the man left, Craig turned to his wife.

“What is he talking about?” he asked, coming closer.

She kept silent.

“Were ye looking for the—” He turned and kicked the bed to stop himself from finishing the sentence.

He couldn’t throw information around.

“For what?” Amy said.

“For a way to escape,” Craig finished, lowering his voice. He turned to Amy, who looked as guilty as a thief caught red-handed. “Were ye?”

She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“I was just looking for salt pork,” Amy said.

“There is no pork in there!” Craig yelled. “And why did Hamish let ye in?”

“I tricked him.”

Craig bowed his head, closed his eyes, and exhaled. “Were ye looking for an escape or not?”

She kept silent, only stared at him with her big, beautiful eyes.

“Find yer courage, Amy,” he pressed, and she lowered her head guilty. “Tell me the truth. At least once in yer life!”

She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes hard, full of tears.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I was.”

Craig shook his head slowly. Oh, his guts seethed with vinegar. He itched to punch something. Where was a good fight when he needed one?