Knight Moves: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 2) (8 page)

“Thank you for rescuing me. They were going to… Well, it doesn’t matter now that I’m safe.” She wrapped her arms around herself and, realizing she was freezing, James unclasped his cloak and settled it around her shoulders.

She placed a hand on his forearm. Heat from her touch traveled up his arm straight to his battered heart.

“I was wondering, could you tell me what day it is?”

His captain answered, “’Tis the fourteenth of February, my lady.”

“I hope you won’t think it’s weird, but could you also tell me the year?”

Renly gaped. James blinked. From her clothing, he surmised she was highborn, yet from her speech he wasn’t sure, unless she hailed from a distant land. But to ask him the year—mayhap she’d hit her head during the encounter. He decided to humor her.
 

“’Tis the year of our Lord 1327.”

“Oh. Um… Am I in France?”

How could she not know what country she was in? Was the girl witless? It would be his fate to meet such a fetching wench and have her be feeble. Perchance if she was, she might be the only wench in all the realm that would consider marrying a beast such as he. For she had not blubbered and run after looking upon his face. Certainly ’twas a good omen.

“Nay, lady. You are in England. On my lands. We are not far from Falconburg Castle.”

She heaved a great sigh of relief.

“Oh good. I know Falconburg. I was there earlier today.” Then she slapped a hand over her mouth, as if she shouldn’t have said such a thing. And all manner of alarm swept through him. Had she been sent by one of his many enemies? Perchance sent to taunt and torture him.

She reached out a hand to touch his face, and he flinched.

“You’re hurt. A cut.” She touched a finger to his eyebrow and held it up. It came away red. He reached a hand up to his face.

“’Tis naught but a scratch. Nothing to worry yourself over, my lady.” She would plague him. All women were afraid of him. He knew an enemy had sent her, for she showed no fear to get him to let down his guard. He must watch her and uncover whatever intrigue she was plotting.

“How did you come to be on my land, lady? Where is your escort?”

She was saved from answering when the falling snow turned to stinging sleet. The men were all mounted and ready to ride, except for his captain. Renly boosted the girl up onto James’ horse. He cupped his hands. James nodded, grateful for aid. His leg burned from kneeling so long, his shoulder pained him, and his head ached.

He sat behind her with a groan. “You can tell me how you came to be on my lands unescorted and in the clutches of bandits when we reach Falconburg. You need a warm drink and a bath.”

She was shivering. James wrapped his cloak around them both, pulling her against his chest to let his body warm her. She stiffened for a moment then relaxed.

James knew they were merely a short distance from the castle, yet it seemed to take a fortnight to reach home. She reached out to touch his face without recoiling in horror. Every other lady in the realm ran screaming. Did she truly not care what he looked like? James was suspicious of this woman who did not fear him. Was not affronted by his visage.

Truth be told, she vexed him. The fact she seemed to find him not pleasing but perchance acceptable made James wary.

What was she doing at his home? Had the men they encountered been a ruse? She needed to be careful, for he had encountered those men before. They would have assaulted her then left her for dead or killed her when they’d slaked their needs.

The lady traveled with no companions. James and his men saw no sign of anyone else. He expected to find a carriage or a horse, perhaps belongings. Yet they found nothing. ’Twas as if she’d sprung up from the grass fully formed and ready to cause him trouble.

The wench in question had fallen asleep against his chest. She breathed in noisily through her swollen nose, sounding like one of his dogs. Her hair was soft like silk against his chin. She was tall for a woman, and shapely. He felt her curves as she leaned against him. Found himself staring at her legs. What kind of woman went about wearing men’s hose? And her tunic. He had never seen such fine garments. He shifted in the saddle, trying to ease the pain in his hip, and by moving he woke her.

“Holy cow! Is that Falconburg?”

James was perplexed. She’d told him she came from his home earlier in the day, and yet her reaction bespoke of never seeing the castle before.

“Aye, lady.”

She craned her head up to look at him. “It’s quite breathtaking, isn’t it? My name is Melinda. Melinda Merriweather.”

He was filled with pride that she found his home pleasing. “I am James Rivers. Lord Falconburg. You may call me James.”

“I can’t believe I’m really here.”

She seemed filled with joy at seeing his home. Being with him. And James was intrigued. He vowed to find out everything he could about Melinda Merriweather.

So far she’d lost the sapphire ring she’d found in the rubble, been abducted by a group of smelly men, knocked around a bit, and just when she thought she was going to die,
he’d
showed up.

Melinda had been so busy trying to escape that it took her a moment to process what was happening. The man, James, was unlike any man she’d ever seen back home. His thick black hair reached his shoulders and looked like it was long overdue for a trim. Yet it was his eyes that held her. They were a clear green that reminded her of the ocean. But on a man that would just be silly. And what a waste. She knew women who would kill for his eye color.

Melinda wasn’t sure if her body shaking was from the cold or the adrenaline wearing off. She’d never experienced anything of the sort before. The closest she’d come to violence had been when some teenage boy stole her parking spot during a downpour, making her ruin her favorite heels. Maybe coming to the past wasn’t the best idea. She frowned. No matter. Even with everything so far, she’d do it again if it meant finding Lucy.

She’d really done it. Gone back in time. Melinda made a face. She thought knights were supposed to be chivalrous. James hadn’t even helped her up on the horse; he just stood there watching her with a weird look on his face. She felt like an incompetent child as she tried to climb into the saddle.
Come on, it’s not like everyone goes around riding horses every day. I’d like to see you drive a car.
Barely, just barely, she managed to resist sticking her tongue out at her savior. Not very grateful behavior, but then again, he made her feel like a child scolded for coloring outside the lines. When that man, Renly, had helped her up, she wanted to hug him.
 

The good captain had also helped James up on the horse. She scooted forward to give him space. He was huge. They both just fit on the horse. Melinda kept looking at the ground. It seemed a lot further to fall from way up here. In reality, she knew there was plenty of room on the horse. It was more the feeling of him behind her, his thighs pressing against hers. Riding together was intimate.

Maybe he was some kind of spoiled entitled nobility? Though he didn’t seem jerky.
 

“Oh my gosh! It’s not a ruin.”

As they approached the castle, Melinda heard the voice of Aunt Pittypat in her head.
Better shut your mouth before you swallow a bug, sugar.

James looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. She didn’t bother to answer. She was too busy looking at everything around her. She could hear the ocean pounding against the rocky shoreline. And as they approached the castle, she could see small freshwater lakes. A fish jumped, breaking the reflection.

“Are those saltwater or freshwater?”

 
He looked to where she was pointing. “The meres are freshwater, fed from a spring. They are stocked with fish to supply the kitchens.”

She could see the main gates reflected in the water. The castle dominated the landscape. It was all very medieval and forbidding. Good luck to the enemy trying to breach these walls. Talk about awe-inspiring.

As they rode through the portcullis, she looked up at the spikes. It was a strange feeling, knowing she’d looked at the same spikes in her own time, where the castle and outbuilding were ruins. Now everything looked…not new, but lived in. The whole scene was nothing like she expected. Where were the starving, smelly people and half-rotten vegetables? A small half-laugh, half-sob escaped. Everything she knew about medieval life was gleaned from books, movies, and television. Would it be enough to help her navigate through the times?

The map she’d looked at when she sheltered from the storm showed Blackpool. Falconburg Castle wasn’t far from the village. And Blackpool was about two hundred and fifty miles from the Scottish border. She kept trying to orient herself for when she could set out and look for Lucy. Know which way to go.

Hopefully this man would help her. If he wouldn’t go with her, at least he might lend her a horse and some supplies so she could find her sister. Blackford Castle, the last place Lucy was seen alive. If Lucy wasn’t there, where on earth would she look? It wasn’t like she could open up a web browser and search for Lucy Merriweather.

Melinda turned her head side to side so many times, taking in everything as they rode into the castle proper, that her neck ached. She had to give whoever had built the thing credit. By riding through those freshwater ponds and the Irish Sea on the other side, it basically turned the castle into an island with only one approach. Talk about intimidating your enemies.

Melinda wasn’t sure how she went back in time, but however she did, she was ever so grateful. She sent up a word of thanks to whoever was listening.

“I don’t mean to repeat myself, but what year did you say it was?”

He looked at her as if she were an annoying toddler before answering. “The year of our Lord 1327.”

Elated, Melinda fist-pumped the air.

“By the saints, are you unwell?”

Maybe a bit too exuberant a reaction.

“I’m fine. Just happy to be here.”

She’d really done it. If only she knew how. Did it have something to do with the storm? She wasn’t sure. And then the more obvious question…could she get back to the future? Charlotte would be beside herself when she found out yet another sister had gone missing and was now presumed dead.

What would the authorities say? That she’d committed suicide—filled with grief over losing her sister, did herself in?
 

James’ men dismounted. Instead of dismounting, he sat there waiting like some warrior king, and she wondered, what for? Was he one of those guys who had to be all Lord of the Manor?
 

“My lady?”

One of the men held out his hands, and Melinda let him help her off the horse. She was unstable for a moment after riding for so long, but found her balance and stood, stretching out the kinks. She turned in time to see the same man helping James off the horse.

And then she knew.

She should’ve guessed by the horrible scars on such an otherwise strong and handsome face. He’d obviously been injured recently. She could tell by how badly he was limping. She felt like a complete witch thinking such mean thoughts about him when he obviously couldn’t help her. What kind of doctors did they have nowadays?
 

A plump older woman came bustling over and the courtyard erupted into chaos.
 

“What have we here?”

James finished speaking with his men and came over to the woman. “This is Melinda Merriweather. See she has a bath and something hot to eat.”

Before Melinda had a chance to thank him, she was bustled inside. A bath would be heavenly. She didn’t care if every person in the castle was put to work heating the water; she was dying to get warm.

“Come along, child. You may call me Mrs. Black.”

“Melinda. Melinda Merriweather.”

She followed the woman up several flights of stairs. The woman pushed open a heavy door. It was some kind of bedroom. She didn’t have time to look around, as she was ushered into a small alcove off the room. It contained a large wooden tub with some kind of cloth padding. Smart. Then the user wouldn’t get splinters in their hiney. Small boys filled pots from a pipe sticking out of the wall. They poured the water into a huge black cauldron over a hearth. The fire crackled, and she could feel the warmth thawing her bones.

As she waited for them to finish heating the water and filling the tub, she looked around the bedroom. She expected Spartan and cold, no color. But this. The room was colorful and smelled of herbs. The fabrics were sumptuous, with beautiful rugs scattered over the stone floor and a couple of tapestries on the whitewashed walls. No smelly straw or threadbare blankets. James obviously had money.

“Mistress? Your bath is ready.” The woman sent the boys out and handed her what looked like a lump of soap, a square of linen, and a comb made out of bone.

“Thank you.”

A young girl walked in balancing a tray of food and drink. Melinda sniffed. Wine and beef stew? Who cared what it was? She was ravenous.

“I don’t want the water to get cold.”

“Mrs. Black said eat a few bites and you’ll feel better.”