"Me point is that ye can trust me. Even when ye're vulnerable, even when I could take advantage, I willnae." He moved toward the washbasin. "Though I'll admit the temptation was and is there."
"How reassurin'," she said dryly, but some of the tension had left her shoulders.
He splashed water on his face, reached for a cloth to wash under his arms and neck, before turning to face her. "We need tae talk."
"About what?"
"About the elders. About their demands fer proof of consummation."
Her knuckles went white around the pillow. "What about it?"
"They're pressin' harder. The only thing that can stop it is proof of consummation. Me councilmen are insistin' we provide evidence that the marriage has been completed proper." He kept his voice matter-of-fact. "They want the beddin' sheet."
"But we havenae done anythin’."
"I ken. Which is why I'm goin' tae give them one anyway."
She stared at him, confusion flickering across her face. "How?"
"How dae ye think?" He moved to where his dirk lay on the table. "Blood is blood. They willnae examine it too closely as long as there's enough of it."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Ye're goin' tae cut yerself."
"Aye. Quick slice, press the sheet tae it, problem solved." He picked up the blade, testing its edge with his thumb. "They gettheir proof, yer faither loses his grounds fer annulment, and ye get more time before we actually have tae dae it fer real."
"Wait." She set down the pillow and moved closer. "Where are ye plannin' tae cut?"
"Palm, probably. Easy enough tae explain away if anyone asks."
"That'll look obvious. A palm wound." She stopped, her face flushing.
He studied her, noting the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "Then I guess the abdomen is better."
“Aye, it’s less obvious."
"Practical." He set the dirk down and reached for the hem of his shirt. "Though I'm startin' tae think ye just want another excuse tae see me without clothes."
"Dinnae flatter yerself."
"Why nae? Ye were certainly enjoyin' the view last night when ye thought I wasnae lookin'." He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Go on then. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Ye're insufferable."
"Aye, but I'm nae wrong." He picked up the dirk again. "Now, how deep are we talkin'? Because I'd rather nae actually injure meself if I can avoid it."
"Just shallow. Enough tae bleed but nae enough tae need stitchin'." She moved closer, her healer's instinct apparently overriding her discomfort. "Here. Like this."
Her fingers traced a line across his lower abdomen, just above his waistband, and he had to suppress his reaction to her touch. "That's the spot?"
"Aye. Quick slice, nae too deep, press the linen hard." Her voice had gone professional, clinical. "It'll bleed enough fer their purposes."
"Right then." He positioned the blade, then hesitated. "Ye might want tae look away fer this bit."
"I've seen worse."
"Suit yerself." He drew the blade across his skin in one smooth motion, sharp pain flaring as blood welled immediately. "Christ."
"Press the sheet tae it. Now." She grabbed the linen from the bed and thrust it at him.
