Page 17 of Draped in Plaid
When Emma was missing, Logan had talked about how he’d been able to speak to her through dreams, that by ramping up his desire, he’d been able to find her somehow across time and space.
Calm down, Moira.
I worked to steady my breaths. Pressed my fingertips into the wood to still the shaking of my hands. I thought of Rory. Tried to conjure up every precious and sensual moment I’d shared with him. Hoping to increase desire enough to call out to him. Hoping the energy I conjured was enough to bring him back to me…
But it wasn’t working. My thoughts were distracted, broken. That’s what happens when you’re in complete darkness and strapped naked to a table.
Still, I tried.
Rory and I in the grove. Rory kissing my neck. Sliding inside me. Rory and I in our bedchamber. Rory and I in the front hall of my house in Edinburgh, when he’d fallen to his knees before me and licked me into an orgasming frenzy.
Rory lifting me into the air and driving inside my body as he pushed my back against a wall.
Rory’s cock in my mouth.
Rory’s cock in my hand.
Rory’s cock inside me.
As much as the memories assaulted me with desire, they did not bring me the one thing I wanted—my husband.
Why was I failing? Why couldn’t I just concentrate?
A door creaked open, footsteps sounded on the earthen floor. Behind my eyelids, I sensed a light. My eyes flashed open and I could see Mrs. MacDonald staring down at me, she’d brought a torch with her that dimly lit the chamber. I could barely make out the walls, or how big it was. There were no windows. No decorations. This was not a cozy place, but the dungeon or cellar I’d imagined it must be.
“So ye’ve finally decided to wake.” Mrs. MacDonald sounded disappointed.
I didn’t answer.
Sharp nails bit into my cheeks as she pinched them before moving to my neck where she felt for my pulse.
“This will be the last time I see ye, chit. I’ve sold ye to an Englishman who is verra interested in ye.” Mrs. MacDonald’s eyes roved over my form. “In your blood. Your line. But ye dinna look so special to me.”
“I am nobody.” Even though I’d tried to keep my voice calm, steady, indifferent, I was surprised at how well I did.
A scraping sound came from her mouth that must have been a chuckle, but sent my blood to chilling. “Perhaps in any other time ye were nobody. But here, ye will be used to produce many royal heirs.”
I swallowed away my disgust, my fear. This is what they planned to do to me? Breed me?
“They should begin their experiments soon.”
Experiments? Breed me how? Copulation wasn’t an experiment was it?
“I hear he’s rather talented for a man of medieval times.” Mrs. MacDonald checked her nails as though she were telling me about her vegetable garden and not some creepy medieval scientist that was planning to knock me up. She waited a moment, wanting me to askwho, and even though I desperately wanted to know whohewas, I didn’t dare inquire. “Well, I really must be going. I hope his experiments aren’t too traumatic. Then again, I dinna truly care if they are or not.” A pouch at her hip jingled as she patted it. “I’ll be rather comfortable back at your place in Edinburgh. Someone let the plants die. I’ll bring them back to life.”
“Where am I?” I risked asked, even though I was pretty sure she’d just give me the runaround.
“Why the place of your birth, dear, Castle Rising.”
I was surprised she’d answered, and risked another. “What year?”
Mrs. MacDonald laughed. “Well, I suppose it wouldna do any harm to tell ye that much. The year of our lord, 1371.”
“Why then?”
Mrs. MacDonald shook her head and clucked her tongue. She walked back toward the door.
My stomach clenched, bile rising in the back of my throat. I turned my head to the side, coughing, trying not to vomit up the nonexistent contents of my stomach.
