Page 40 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

They both studied the bones, puzzling over them.

“Mystery cat,” they said in unison, and grinned at each other.

“Is the food gone?” Rory asked.

“Let’s check.” They moved together inside, Kate careful to lock up behind them, determined to be cognizant of safety. She left the porchlight on, however, and glanced back just in time to see a shadow flash over the steps—a cat in motion. “There, did you see that?”

Rory shook his head.

“The cat.”

“You saw it?”

“No, just its shadow, like before. It’s too fast and never gets close enough to me. But it slept with you, so maybe you’ll have better luck seeing it than I’ve been having.” At the basement door, Kate had to steel her spine while her litany danced through her head. She realized Rory was watching her.

“You are the innkeeper with a capitalI?”

Chagrinned, Kate said, “You heard me earlier? Or are you a mind reader?”

“Not a mind reader.” Rory gave her a gentle smile. “Sometimes I have to talk myself into doing what’s hard too. We all do.”

Resisting the urge to reach for his hand, Kate pushed open the basement door. Rory reached around her to flick the light switch. Instantly, the single bulb swung from the ceiling, casting shadows up and back and circular.

“Is there a draft?”

“Probably from opening up the door.”

But was there? The air felt still, waiting, yet the light swung of its own volition. Why?

Rory stepped down the stairs, Kate trailing behind.

His words, spoken so soft and low, she almost missed the invitation he made.

“Can I show you the past?”

Shivers raced up and down her spine, and Kate almost couldn’t speak. Despite her uncertainty, she managed a breathless, “Yes.”

Rory turned in the shifting shadows, and Kate sensed both camaraderie and gratitude.

Through the depths of her inn, past the hidden room to the tunnel entrance, Rory held out his hand. A small gesture, yet Kate understood the significance. She placed her slender hand in his strong grip. For an instant she felt warm, safe. In the next, reality just tilted and spun. Heat and cold washed over her, tingling from the tip of her head to her knees. Had her feet disappeared? Instantly queasy, she wasn’t sure if she was still standing. She shut her eyes tight at the sensory overload. Her senses reeled, centered, and the present fell away.

When Kate opened her eyes, a young girl, no more than eighteen, was peering into the tunnel. A mobcap on her head, lace dripping from her sleeves, she wore a laced gown with a blue and white-striped full skirt and her feet were clad in sturdy buckled shoes.

“Be ye there?”

A loud voice admonished her. “Miss Prudence, ye shouldn’t be here. Your father would not be pleased.”

A large man loomed in the tunnel entrance, and the girl sashayed back with a frown. “Where does this go?” A man in a tricorn hat shoved past her, carrying a cask.

The looming man answered, “Just the wine cellar, miss.”

Tilting her head, the girl stood straighter and narrowed her eyes. “The wine cellar is back there, sir.” She motioned toward it with her chin. “Explain yourself.” Haughtiness reigned in the set of her shoulders. She was clearly the master’s daughter now.

“Ye are not to be down here, Miss. Why would a delicate lass such as yourself wish to be down here in the cool, dark belly of your home? That be for your servants.”

“They’re hardlyourservants now, are they, Mr…?”

“Kennimoore, miss. And, aye, the servants take orders now from the British officers quartered here.” The man with the cask spit on the ground, and Prudence sidestepped and glared.

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