I already feel light-headed, and now I know why women in the past didn’t exercise. It’s hard to just walk in this shit. Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I lift my head and turn from side to side in an attempt to find the dining room.
Pressing my lips together, I stumble with the next step, not because I have tripped, but because I see a man standing just a few feet in front of me. He isn’t Colt. He’s the stranger from the horse. The dark-complected man with the bright light eyes.
“Logan Whitecotton, ma’am, may I escort you to supper?”
I blink, my eyes sliding down his well-fit uniform, then lift them up to meet his own. They aren’t light blue the way that I assumed.
His eyes are white.
They hold no color at all.
You can’t even differentiate between the whites of his eyes and his iris. There is only white and the black of his pupil, nothing else. You would think that it would be startling, that it would be maybe even gross, but it’s not.
It’s oddly beautiful.
“Birdie Collins,” I breathe as I reach out and slip my arm through his offered one.
I’ve never been escorted anywhere, ever. It feels a little over the top, a little fancy, especially for just dinner. I’m sure that it shouldn’t, but it does.
This whole thing is completely surreal. I don’t know what to think at this point. I don’t know what to expect next. I’m in a whole new world that I don’t understand.
The dining room comes into view and I gasp. It’s fancy, like not just a little fancy, but seriously fancy. There are china dishes set, real silver looking silverware, with matching silver serving pieces.
I can smell fresh baked bread and my stomach grumbles at the scent, I honestly don’t remember the last time I ate a full meal, and the fruit and cheese from earlier are completely gone and now I’m starving.
Entering the room, I hear a throat clear. Turning my head, my heart stops beating in my chest at the sight of the man who is rising from his seat at the head of the table.
His blue eyes meet mine and I watch a muscle tick in his cheek as he narrows that blue gaze on me. My hand falls from Logan’s arm and I press my lips together, unable to take my eyes from his.
“Come and sit,” he grumbles as he takes a step back, then lifts his hand, motioning to the chair in front of him, the one to the right of his.
Dipping my chin, I try to behave like I’ve seen all the fancy historical ladies in the movies do. I literally have zero real-life experience to handle any of this at all. I’m going off of movies and hoping he doesn’t decide that I really am a witch and burn me at the stake.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I sink down into the chair. He pushes it in and I place my hands in my lap, unsure of what to do next.
“You’ve met Logan Whitecotton?” Colt asks.
Nodding, I turn my head and tip it back to look up into his blue eyes. “I have,” I breathe.
He nods once, giving me zero explanation on who this uniformed man is as he turns from me and makes his way back to his seat. I watch as he sinks down in his chair, then turns to look across the table from me to Logan Whitecotton whose white eyes are staring right at me.
This isn’t a friendly dinner.
This is going to be an interrogation.
Chapter Six
BIRDIE
The dinner table is alarmingly quiet. The silence is uncomfortable and the way both men are staring at me, I don’t know that it will suddenly become comfortable anytime soon. I try not to fidget or shift in my seat. Instead, I keep my hands in my lap and continue to look forward.
Martha appears and I breathe a sigh of relief, but it is short-lived because she isn’t here to break the tension at all, she’s here to serve dinner.
I shift my gaze toward her, silently pleading for help, but she just gives me a sad expression and places the soup bowl down in front of me.
She disappears a few moments later and I’m alone with the two men in awkward silence once again. Reaching for my napkin, I place it on my lap and then reach for a spoon.
“Bon appetite,” I whisper before sinking my spoon into the warm soup.
I’m not sure what kind of soup I’m about to eat, but I’m hungry enough to eat almost any kind, so I try not to think about what it could actually be. As long as it’s not human, I think I’m going to be okay.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Logan asks.
Lifting my eyes, I bring the spoon to my lips and take a small taste. It’s a broth of some kind, and it’s not half bad. With a little wiggle in my seat, I begin to eat.
“About?” I ask.
“You, where you hail,” he murmurs.
Shifting my gaze toward Colt, I look to him for permission. I don’t know if I want anyone knowing anything about me, especially since Colt already thinks I’m some kind of witchy woman, which wouldn’t be half bad if I actually was because then maybe I could get home and find my sisters.
“Arizona, United States,” I say with little fanfare, mostly because I pretty much figure he’s going to be like Colt and act as though he knows nothing about it, and maybe he doesn’t.
I mean, I guess I could be in some kind of alternate universe, or maybe, just maybe, I got in one of those time warps and I’m back in the eighteen hundreds. That actually might make more sense. You know, like that show about the lady going back to medieval Scotland.
Wait.
That didn’t happen here, because even though they may not have known Arizona
