Page 9 of Draped in Plaid
Chapter Three
Emma
Castle Rising
England, 1351
I collapsed onto a cold, stone floor, drained of energy, and yet my insides sparked with vibration. I had to wonder how much of a toll time traveling took from my body.
How exactly did it work? Did our bodies break apart into a zillion particles only to be put back together? Or did we fall through a funnel, riding the tidal wave of dimensions?
My friends groaned around me, finding their bearings as I was. There was no time to consider more on the science behind time travel. And not that it would matter anyway. I knew it was real. Had done it myself many times.
Besides, there were other more urgent concerns.
Blinking open my eyes, I stared up at the rafters of a dusty chamber, cobwebs creeping along the corners of the walls and dust floating on the air. Tapestries hung limply, and the furniture looked as though it hadn’t been used in a hundred years, sagging and bowed.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice sounding weak.
I rolled my head to the side to see Logan beside me, his dark hair splayed over his handsome face. A face I welcomed seeing every morning. He blinked open his eyes, dark as storm clouds, they reminded me of passion and love and triumph.
I couldn’t help but smile. In that short moment in time, we stared at one another, none of the other bullshit we were dealing with there. Just the two of us.
“We are here,” he said with a chuckle.
I shook my head and laughed softly at his lack of answer.
Logan stood, a tall mountain of a man above me. I sighed, stretching as I stared up at him. He held out his hand and I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. My bones felt heavy as I sat up. I pushed to my feet, and flexed my fingers and toes, forcing my body to wake.
My husband pulled me into his arms, and kissed me, soft, tender and filled with promise. Drawing me completely from whatever fog I was in.
“My love, we made it yet again,” he said.
“And in one piece.”
“Thank the time gods for that.” Again, he kissed me, holding me close, and I snuggled against him, closing my eyes and breathing in his heady, masculine scent.
The others slowly awakened, hauling themselves to their feet and shaking off the cobwebs.
“I feel so tired,” Shona murmured. “I don’t remember this from before.”
I shook my head, keeping to myself my earlier concerns about how many times, and in quick succession, we were time traveling and the toll it must be taking. “Me either.”
All three men rolled their shoulders, cracking their necks. A chain ofpop pop pop.
Logan walked slowly toward an arrow-slit window, careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked beneath his steps.
“There are guards on the walls. No plaids. They look to be English.”
“We’re at an English holding then?” Rory said, a curse under his breath.
I shuddered. Our mission to retrieve Moira had just gotten a million times harder.
“Merchants and servants also look English.”
“Is it possible…” I started.
“We’re in England,” Shona finished. “I feel it in my bones. This is what McAlister meant about taking us back to the beginning. To the place where we were conceived, I suppose? Or maybe born.”
