"You grabbed me," she replied. "You shouldn’t have grabbed me."
"I ken that now." He got slowly to his feet, looming over her like a skyscraper over a hotdog cart.
She examined him in the gloom. He was much taller than her, strong arms that bulged out of the end of a short sleeved tunic that was covered in mud. His hair was messy, half covering his face. He seemed a mix of Highlander and caveman. "Who are you?" she asked. "What are you doing down here?"
"I’m Lennox MacGregor and I might ask you the same question."
"I came down here to find out where my Mom’s gone. What are you doing in here?"
"I’m being held prisoner. Och, I ken what’s going on here. I’ve gone mad."
"What?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Let me guess, you’re the skeleton come back to life, right?"
"Skeleton? What skeleton?" She looked around her, spotting the table next to her for the first time. "That’s a skeleton. Is that real? That can’t be real, can it?"
"Tis as real as me." He prodded the skeleton and then her arm. "Are you real though?"
"Do you mind?" she said, grabbing his hand and pushing it away from her. "Who do you think you are poking me like that?"
"I told you. I’m Lennox MacGregor, son of the Laird of the MacGregor Clan. Who are you?
"Rose Winter."
"You’re not Scottish, Rose Winter. Are you being held prisoner with me?"
"I’m not a prisoner at all. I only came down here to find out about my mother. Do you know anything about her?"
"What’s her name?"
"Anthea Winter. Have you seen her?"
"I do not ken that name."
"Then Maureen had no idea what she was talking about. If you’ll excuse me." She walked over to the door and pulled it open. It fell over onto the floor. All that was behind it was solid wall. She ran her hand over the wall, feeling the dampness of the mold and lichen. "All right, very funny. Where’s the door to the courtyard gone? Why’s there just a wall here?"
"Because you’re in a dungeon."
She shook her head. It had to be a dream. She had gone back to her old house and fallen asleep and this was her brain’s way of showing her that she could never escape her past. She was stuck with it just like a prisoner in a dungeon. She took another look at her fellow captive. Why had she dreamed someone who looked like he’d come out of one of her books?
"You are a fair lass," Lennox said. "Did the rat send you down here to taunt me? Is that it? See if the rumor about Highlanders is true."
"What rumor?" she asked, still feeling her way along the wall, looking for the doorway back upstairs.
"That we take women without consent. That may be the English way but it is not ours."
"That’s good to know, thanks. Look, I’ve got stuff to do so you’ll just show me the way out of here, that would be immensely helpful."
"The only way out is up there." He pointed at the trapdoor above their heads.
"I’m dreaming, I’ve got to be dreaming. I can’t be in an oubliette."
"Only one way in or out whether you give it a French name or not."
"Explain to me how I came through that door then." She came to stand next to him, looking up at the trapdoor.
"I dinnae ken but I suspect witchcraft had something to do with it."
