Page 22 of Draped in Plaid
“What happened?” I asked.
“We’ve no time. Take us to 1371,” Rory said.
I nodded, and the five of us clutched hands. I dialed in the time and place. A breath and no more, we were in the same chamber, cleaned and redecorated. The walls were whitewashed and beautiful, colorful tapestries hung from the walls. Sconces were lit, and a fire blazed.
At the sound of a muffled cry, we turned to find a young maid staring at us. The duster fell from her hand as she clasped her face. She backed up a step, her complexion paling, and then fell over in dead faint.
“Ballocks,” Logan groaned. Gathering the fallen woman in his arms, he deposited her onto the bed. “We’ll have to bind her, else when she comes to, she’ll try sound the alarm.”
“Aye,” Rory said. “With Moira being kept prisoner here, the guards are bound to be on high alert. If this lass says she saw five people appear before her eyes out of thin air, they’ll come searching for us.”
I reached beneath my gown and tore several strips from my chemise, handing it to the men. “You’ll need to gag her, too.”
Heaven help me for thinking it, let alone suggesting it. The poor lass didn’t deserve it, but we had to make certain we were safe. She’d be found eventually, no harm done.
Shona too ripped a few strips from her chemise, and tucked a balled up bit into the girl’s mouth, while the men tied her ankles and wrists.
“I’m sorry, lass,” Emma said. “But it is for our good, and yours.”
“Where was Moira in your dream?” Ewan asked.
“A dungeon. It was dark and she was tied to a table.”
I shuddered, remembering years before when Logan had been abducted by the MacDonald, and I’d found him in a similar fashion. Tied to a table, beaten. I glanced over at my husband and he was staring at me intently, recalling every moment of his captivity. They’d nearly broken him.
The muscle in his jaw ticked and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him. I eased closer, needing to feel his heat. Knowing he would need to feel mine.
“I searched the dungeon in 1351,” Rory said. “I know exactly where it is.”
“We’ll follow ye,” Logan replied.
I slipped my hand in his and we left the room following behind.
The way his grip tightened the closer we got to our destination, I knew that he was thinking about his time as a captive. The torment he’d endured. Days, weeks, months, he’d suffered. Those days had changed him, made him tunnel inside himself, more so than he already was. But now, he was mostly back. Still sweet, tender, loving. However, every once in awhile, I saw the shadows cross over his face as he went back to that place. Much like when I was reminded of my life with Steven.
“We’ll be home soon,” I whispered to Logan.
He gave my fingers a squeeze, letting me know he’d heard me, but his lack of response had me wondering if he believed me.
We made our way throughout the castle easy enough. Pre-dawn, most of the servants had yet to rise, and maneuvering the stairwells and corridors was easier than we imagined it would be.
Rory held up his hand. Ewan and Shona stopped in front of us. Rory turned around, his serious face cast mostly in shadows.
“We’re almost there. This is the staircase that leads down to the dungeon. There is a door there, it wasna locked twenty years ago, but that doesna mean it willna be locked now.”
“I can pick the lock if it is,” Ewan said with confidence.
“Let’s go,” Logan said.
We slipped down the stairs as silently as we had the rest of the castle, and stopped short at the base when Rory.
“Who’s there?” A man with an English accent shouted.
His voice was hauntingly familiar. My blood ran cold. My heart kicked up a notch. Who was it? I couldn’t immediately place the voice in my mind, but my body seemed to recall vividly whom it belonged to. I leaned against the cold stone wall, my fingers trembling in Logan’s grasp. Nausea swept over me. I closed my eyes, heard his voice all over again, images of my past swarming up to slug me right in the stomach.
I knew exactly who it was.
But I didn’t want to believe it.
