Down the Rabbit Hole

“Aye. I’ll see to it, m’laird.”


Stung by his insults, it was on the tip of Beth’s tongue to protest, but she realized she didn’t have enough energy for even that small effort.

As she began to sway and drop to the floor, she was once again lifted in those strong arms. She heard the man’s muttered oath as she was carried up a rough, winding staircase and into a room with massive wooden beams overhead and a long balcony offering a view of a midnight sky sprinkled with millions of stars.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her voice sounded strange in her ears, like a child whispering down a long, hollow tube. “I’ve never fainted before.”

“’Tis the bump on her head, m’laird.”

“Let’s hope so. More likely, she’s escaped from some poor fool’s tower, where she’s been hidden away because of her affliction.”

“I’m not mad.” Beth wanted to stomp her foot, but being in the man’s arms, all she could do was thump her fist against his shoulder.

He looked down at her, and she could see a glint of humor in his eyes.

Was he laughing at her? That thought only added to her fury.

“Ah, Glenna.” The man spoke to an orange-and-white kitten who was busy setting a fire on the grate. “Fetch a nightdress for my . . . guest.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The kitten hurried away and a young, red-haired serving lass returned with a soft woolen gown with a high, prim neckline, long, tapered sleeves, and a skirt that fell to Beth’s toes.

The man stood facing the fire, allowing the lass and housekeeper to minister to Beth until she was settled into a soft pallet. Then he walked to her side.

His tone was gentler than before. As though he’d decided upon a temporary truce. “Sleep now. Tomorrow will be soon enough to explain your reason for being here.”

She could feel his eyes, dark and fierce, pinning her with that look that seemed to see clear through to her soul.

Her own eyes felt heavy. And though she had a hundred questions still unanswered, she was too weary to ask them. Where had she landed? What sort of place had rabbits and kittens that turned into human form? Why was everyone here treating her as the odd one, when it was clear that she was the only sane one among them? Or could it be that this castle was in some other dimension? An alternate universe? Could she be suffering some sort of mental breakdown?

Snug and warm, her head still pounding from the fall, she drifted into a restless, dream-filled sleep in which the apron-clad groundhog was offering her tea and scones and telling her to beware, and a plump gray rabbit was sponging the blood from her head and pouring it into a tankard for her to drink, insisting it was good for her.

The whole world had gone mad.


*

Beth lay perfectly still, listening to the sound that had wakened her. The whispering of the wind? Or voices? Voices, she decided. They sounded very near, but when she looked around, the room was in darkness except for the dim light from the hot coals on the grate.

“You promised to find someone to do the deed.” A woman’s whisper, low with anger, drifted on the breeze.

“I found a hunter.” The man’s tone was soft, placating. “I’ve secured a place for him here with the other guests. But I don’t trust him.”

“Why?”

“Now that he has seen the splendor of this place, he is demanding more gold than he’d first agreed upon. He threatens to reveal our secret unless we double our offer. I need to find another to do the deed.”

“Fool! There’s no time left. It must be done before we leave. If my debts are made public, my husband will refuse to pay. I fear he’ll leave me this time. I’ll be a pauper.”

“As will I, if I don’t soon make good on my promise to Judith’s father.”

“What foolish promises have you made now?”