Page 16 of Draped in Plaid
Chapter Five
Moira
I was trapped.
Locked up somewhere.
Chained.
But I had no idea where. It was dark. Cold. Dank. Smelled musty and old. A cellar maybe or a dungeon.
I was bound at the wrists and ankles by a thick leather strap, and I lay on top of something hard. A table maybe. I scratched at the surface. Wood.
A splinter dug beneath my middle fingernail and I bit my lip, breathing hard from my noise, but not wanting to make any louder of a noise. Damn, but it hurt like a bitch, jabbing right up through my nail bed, and I couldn’t even use my other hand to dig it out. I used my thumb, scraping at the pointy splinter until the pain eased and I’d hopefully gotten most of it out.
Tears ran from my eyes, down my cheeks, soaking into my ears.
I buckled, yanked at my restraints. The table rattled back and forth, but it wasn’t wobbly enough that I might break it and set myself free.
I could hear sounds all around me… Echoing screams from far away. Voices calling a name I couldn’t make out. Thumping. Creaks of wood. Whispers of a breeze.
There was no one else in this hellhole with me. At least not the same room.
I didn’t even remember how I got here, strapped down. The last thing I recalled was Mrs. MacDonald knocking me to the floor in my chamber. Being paralyzed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what was going to happen, and knowing exactly who the woman was. Then everything had gone dark. She’d poisoned me with something. Knocked me out.
“Rory,” I whispered, my lips dry, cracked. My throat was parched. It was hard to swallow. Hurt to talk.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I silently begged for Rory to come to me. To save me. To untie me and pull me from the dark misery.
I could picture him, long dark hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate. Skin golden from the sun and long, muscular limbs that could hold up walls, or take me down to the floor. He was all man. All brawny, sexy Highlander. And when I closed my eyes and he whispered in my ear, he made my heart soar, my joy sing.
I yanked again at the restraints. Wanting to get out of here. Away from this place. Back to him. But there was nothing but the eerie echoes of my own hard breaths and the leather stretching against the wood table and iron rings. This could have been hell.
Was I dead?
No, I didn’t feel dead.
I felt… consumed. As though I were waiting for some invisible force to come and finish whatever had been started.
I was cold.
I was naked. My thumb brushed against my bare thigh and I shivered, gooseflesh running over every inch of me. Not just cold. Freezing. So, this couldn’t be hell. Something likehell’shell.
What was happening?
Why was it happening to me?
I blinked open my eyes, staring into the darkness, trying to make out shadows or shapes and seeing nothing but a bleak void.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to push the panic away that had seized me, paralyzing me.
Rory. Rory. Rory. I need you!
My breaths were coming quick and fast, my heart pounding in my ear. I was nauseous. Dizzy. Completely freaking the fuck out.
I had to calm down.
