Page 10 of Draped in Plaid
An intense screaming carried from beneath the floorboards. Someone was filled with agony.
We looked from one to the other, and I scooted closer to Logan, feeling his strength seep into my bones. My nose tickled. I pinched it to hold in a sneeze, eyes watering. Outside I could see it was a gloomy day. The guards on the walls looks half asleep and the people who worked in the bailey moved with the slowest pace I’d ever seen. The walls were vast, long and high. I could see where the castle jutted out in wings. We were in a large, impressive fortress.
“That wasn’t Moira,” Shona said, seeming to read each of our minds. “Someone else is screaming.”
The sneeze won out, coming quick and loud, disturbing the dust in the air. We all froze, waiting for the guards on the wall to turn and look up at us, or for someone to throw open the door and demand to know what we were doing there. “Let’s go find her.”
“’Twould be best if we split up,” Logan said.
Logan blew out a breath, but it was Rory who spoke.
“Logan’s right, we should split up. I’ll go alone, Shona and Ewan ye go together and Logan, ye and your wife go together. ’Twill be faster with three groups searching for Moira than all of us together. Easier to hide, too.”
“But we’ve only one time controller.” I slipped my hand into my husband’s grasp, our fingers twining. Where I was cold, he was infinitely warm. A furnace always running. “When it comes time to leave, we’ll need to be together.”
“We’ll agree to meet back here every hour. The room looks abandoned enough, it should be a safe hiding spot,” Logan said. “And if one of us should not return at the hourly check, we will wait a quarter of an hour and then come searching for ye. We leave no one behind.”
I trembled slightly, afraid of what we might find. The screaming continued, echoing hauntingly throughout the castle walls and then fading into a low moan before quieting and starting all over again. Where were we and what had we come upon?
I leaned closer to Logan and he squeezed my fingers. “’Twill be all right, love,” he whispered.
I prayed he was right.
“Be careful, Rory. Ye’ve got no one to guard your back,” Logan said. “Why do ye not come with us?’
“Nay.” Rory shook his head. “’Twill be faster. I’ll be fine.” Rory’s eyes were hard with determination. He nodded curtly, and then they headed for the door.
The screaming continued, louder, in the hallway, but clearly not on this level of the castle.
Rory turned left down the corridor. We watched him as he slowly turned the handle on one chamber door and peeked inside. A subtle shake of his head told us there was no one. We did the same, finding yet another dusty, unused room. As he continued in the opposite direction, the four of us headed for the stairs, parting on the level below. Logan and I inched down the corridor while Shona and Ewan continued their descent on the stairs. Carved into the stone above the archways was the crest of the English throne.
Our earlier suspicions were confirmed—we were no longer in Scotland.
Voices came from the far end of the dimly lit corridor. A draft caused the torches hanging in sconces to flicker and cast dancing shadows on the wall.
There was a scream, a moan, encouraging murmurs. This was the source of the noise we’d heard above.
Eyes wide, I looked at Logan. If anyone came out of that room, we’d be caught. My heart kicked up its pace, mouth went dry, palms grew slick. Our hoods were tucked up around our faces.
At that moment, a few female servants rushed toward the room with steaming pots of water, none of them paying us any attention. A second set with clean linens, herbal smelling containers. Again, they ignored us.
“Whatever is happening in that room,” I whispered, “is significant enough that we are invisible.”
I shuddered as the screams continued, making my ears ring. A second later, a few servants rushed from the room with bloodstained linens.
No guards stood outside the door.
No courtiers milled in the corridor.
We were definitely in a great castle, I could tell by the sheer size of it, but it seemed to be empty of anyone who mattered. A place of exile.
Another servant rushed from the room, her gaze catching mine. Relief flashed over her features. Rushing forward, she gripped my hand.
“Thank goodness you’ve arrived. Queen Joan has been asking for you. They’ve come early.” The servant was Scottish, despite us being in an English castle.
I shook my head, trying to tug away from her grip, but she didn’t budge, instead pulling me forward. I looked back to Logan and he nodded, mouthing, “Go.”
He followed behind us to the door but the servant frowned at him. “You’ll need to wait here. Keep watch on things.”
