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Marjorie blinked. She’d thought she knew what it was, but when she tried to focus on it to answer his question, she couldn’t seem to define it.

“I have a feeling about it,” she said. “I seem to know things about it, but I don’t know how I know them.

” She put a hand to her temple as though pressing against her mind would free the information.

Instead, she realized how much her head had begun to ache again.

“You look pale,” he said. “We can talk of it later. Clearly, you haven’t forgotten everything.”

“No, I haven’t. I just can’t seem to find it. It’s as though all the information I gathered was dumped in a dark well, and I can’t reach it. Sometimes some little fragment bubbles up to the surface, but I can’t see through the darkness to understand the context or what it means.”

“Sounds as though your brain box was shaken up when you bumped your head. It may take a few days for things to set themselves to rights.”

She didn’t have a few days. She had to find a magistrate tonight if she was to prevent Burrows from betraying England. Had she suspected he was a traitor before? Was that why she hadn’t liked him at first? Why had she changed her mind?

“It’s been a long day. You should rest.”

She nodded. Although she’d done little but sleep all day, she was quite tired. Besides, the sooner she retired, the sooner he would retire, and she could escape.

Unless...what if she was wrong about their separate chambers? What if he came to lie beside her? That would make sneaking out much more difficult, but if she waited until he was deep in sleep, she thought she could still manage.

Marjorie rose from the table and went back to the bedchamber.

She closed the door and looked through the wardrobe until she found another set of linens.

She stuffed one of the pillowcases with clothing and shoes.

She heard Simon’s steps coming nearer and shoved the pillowcase under the bed then quickly climbed under the covers. He tapped on the door. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” She tried to look as though she were about to fall asleep.

He opened the door a crack. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll say goodnight.” He began to close the door.

“Is this how you usually say goodnight?” she asked. Devil take her! Why had she asked that? She’d wanted him to leave, and now he was opening the door again.

“No, but nothing about this situation is usual. You don’t remember who I am. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

And for some reason, she felt guilty. No, she didn’t remember falling in love with him or marrying him, but his memories hadn’t been altered. He can’t have imagined their honeymoon would play out like this. “You must be disappointed in...this turn of events.” She gestured to her head.

“I’m certain it’s only temporary,” he said with a sad smile. “You’ll remember soon enough.”

“I hope that’s true. And, this might be quite forward”—his brows went up—“but I wouldn’t be uncomfortable with a goodnight kiss.”

He stared at her. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. This would be a goodnight and a goodbye kiss. She probably shouldn’t kiss him, but she was about to turn him in for treason. If she kissed him now, he’d be less likely to suspect her of having figured out his secret.

At least that was what she told herself.

The truth was this was her last chance to kiss him, and she really wanted to know what it felt like. “We’ve no doubt kissed many times. Perhaps a kiss will spark a memory.” She rather hoped it did, and she hoped that memory was why she had married a turncoat.

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

She looked at him, waiting. He seemed uncertain of what to do. Odd, considering he should be familiar with kissing her. Had she been too bold in suggesting the kiss? Perhaps he didn’t care for boldness in women.

Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision and crossed the room.

He bent down and put a hand on her shoulder.

With the other, he cupped her cheek. His hand was warm and large, and it smelled of the bread they’d been eating.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes and looked into his.

Her heart was pounding now, and she could hear his breaths coming a little quicker.

In this moment—whenever he touched her—she didn’t have any questions as to why she’d married him.

There was an obvious attraction between them.

Simon moved closer and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was chaste and innocent, and she wanted much, much more.

She let her eyes drift closed and kissed him back in the same innocent manner.

He inhaled and the hand on her shoulder tightened.

She opened her eyes again and gazed into the dark pools of his.

“Sleep well,” he murmured.

“Goodnight,” she said.

He withdrew, and it took all her willpower not to pull him back.

She had to keep repeating to herself that she wanted him to go.

Finally, he closed the door, and she heard his footsteps retreat.

She blew out the lamp, but she didn’t lie down.

She remained sitting so she didn’t risk falling asleep.

She had to wait until the house was quiet and then she could make her move.

She didn’t have a clock in the chamber, so she wasn’t certain how long she sat and waited.

It seemed hours passed before the only sound she heard was the settling of the house and the persistent crash of the waves on the shore.

Carefully and quietly, she eased out of bed and knelt at its side.

She fished out the pillowcase and emptied the contents on the bed.

Using touch, she found the garments she wanted and donned them as best she could.

She didn’t have everything tied and laced perfectly, but it wouldn’t matter.

Simon had hung his greatcoat on a peg by the front door.

She’d put that over her dress on the way out.

Then all she had to do was make her way inland, toward whatever village was nearby, and ask the first person she encountered where the magistrate lived.

Was she terrified?

Yes.

Was she an idiot?

Probably.

Did she have confidence she would succeed?

Absolutely. In fact, she felt more in her own skin now than she had since she’d awakened in the cave. Clearly, this sort of subterfuge was not something new to her.

Marjorie went to her bedchamber door and eased it open. Thankfully, all was blackness, and she relied on the map of it in her mind to make her way into the sitting room. The entryway lay to her left. Just a few steps and she’d grasp the coat, open the door, and be away.

She turned left. Behind her something scraped, and a shaft of light appeared on the wooden floor. Marjorie froze.

“Where do you think you’re going?”