When Abby woke up, she was in a scratchy straw bed wearing strange clothes. They looked like something a serving wench from a period drama might wear.
Dizzy and disoriented, she looked around the room. It was small and shabby, barely managing to fit the bed and a small dresser with an oil lamp sitting on it. This was not her apartment. Had her stupid, desperate idea actually worked?
She tried to get up and look around some more but did it too quickly. Waves of vertigo crashed over her and she would have hit the floor if not for the strong arms that came out of nowhere to catch her.
"Easy there, Miss. You're in no condition to be running about," a kind voice stated.
Abby strained to look up at the person holding her and discovered a middle-aged man with silver hair and shockingly purple eyes. The silver hair was one thing but purple eyes?
