Page 29 of Draped in Plaid
“Let’s go,” Logan said. “I think I hear someone coming.”
We huddled in our usual circle, save for Moira who was still in Rory’s arms.
“No!” Emma frantically patted at her skirts, her eyes wide as saucers. “It’s gone!”
“What?” Logan asked.
But I knew what she meant instantly and my blood ran cold.
“The time key… It’s not in my pocket. It must have fallen out when Steven grabbed me.”
“Damn,” Logan growled. “That bloody bastard!”
“Let’s remain calm. We’ll just have to go get it,” Rory said.
Footsteps sounded outside the door and we all froze. Logan had been right. Someone was coming. There was no place to hide in this torture chamber. Beneath the crack of the door, whoever was on the other side, was sure to see the torchlight shining bright.
The men drew their swords and thrust us ladies behind them, prepared to fight for all of our lives.
Inside my womb, the bairn kicked, he or she, too, wanted to fight.
Moira slipped her hand into mine, and I grabbed hold of Emma’s. We needed all the strength we could get as the footsteps drew closer still.
Please just be one or two guards. Three or four even. Ewan, Rory and Logan can take on six or even eight, but let there be no more than that…
The handle creaked and then the door pushed open, revealing the figure of a man and at least a dozen guards behind him. He was tall, wiry thin, and his hair was jet black, save for the streaks of silver at his temples. Like a monk, he wore a long black smock, but the pendant hanging from the thick metal chain at his neck was not a cross, something else I couldn’t decipher, a symbol I’d never seen before.
“Ah, welcome, friends,” he said. “Get cozy. I’m afraid you’ll not be going anywhere.”
