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

by Cynthia Luhrs

  Melinda felt a little more comfortable driving on the left side of the road, though her sense of direction was abysmal. When she’d gone downstairs for breakfast, the hotel delivered flowers to her room. The card read, Happy Valentine’s Day. Miss you, sis. Love, Charlotte. The bouquet was an assortment of flowers all in pink, white, and red. It was beautiful.

  Lunch was fish and chips from a shop in a tiny town. Melinda thought she was on the right track in her journey, but later on, the signs looked wrong. Somehow she must’ve turned left when she should’ve turned right.

  Instead of a sign for York, she saw a sign for Blackpool. She recognized the name from her map. “Crap on toast. I’m on the opposite coast.”

  A very unladylike word left her mouth as she looked for a place to turn around. Up ahead she saw a side road, turned right, and followed it. It was a narrow one-lane road with deep ditches on either side. She was afraid she’d get stuck if she tried to turn the little car around in the middle of the road, so she drove on looking for a wider place to turn around, hoping she wouldn’t dead-end at the ocean. She could smell the sea. One of her favorite scents of all time.

  Melinda came around a bend in the road. “What are the odds?”

  A partially ruined castle stood on the rise, looking very forbidding and a little sad. It seemed to be abandoned. She didn’t see any National Trust signs or car park areas with a ticket booth, so she found a grassy, flat area and parked.

  Leave it to her to want to go to Blackford Castle and end up—where? It was a Merriweather family gift to be so awful with directions. Thunder boomed, and Melinda took note of the sky and the dark clouds. Looked like it would start storming any minute. She didn’t want to be in the car in a middle of a field during a storm. Not since the accident she’d had in high school when she parked in a field, only to have the car sink up to the roof in mud during a thunderstorm.

  Nope. The castle was a better choice. She grabbed her thermos and map and ran for the gate with the big, sharp teeth hanging down. Right, the portcullis.

  It was cold with the wind blowing, but at least she was dry. That didn’t last long. The rain started to blow sideways, and she would be soaked if she didn’t move. The front door stood partially open.

  She ran for it. “Don’t let me get hit by lightning.”

  The door was heavy. She pushed but it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, she turned sideways, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to squeeze through. No go. She tried again and failed.

  “Third time’s the charm, right?” Melinda unbuttoned her coat, forced all the air in her lungs out, sucked in her tummy, and squeezed through, scraping her cheek as the storm started to howl.

  The cavernous room smelled of the ocean, damp, and dust. That smell when a house sits empty and unloved for a long time. Dim afternoon light filtered in through holes in the wall. She looked up. Good. The roof was mostly intact.

  Lightning made her jump, but illuminated a corner that might provide a better windbreak. Melinda walked past a fireplace large enough to have a party in and stopped to admire the carvings. There were falcons carved into the stone. This place must have been beautiful in its heyday. Why would anyone leave? This was security. If it were hers, she would never leave. Melinda blew on her hands to warm them. Completely preoccupied with her trip, she’d left the mittens behind at the chip shop.

  As she made her way to the far corner, she spied some kind of wooden bench. Grateful she wouldn’t have to sit on the cold stone floor, Melinda sat down and leaned against the wall.

  Surely the storm would be over soon. She opened the map and used the light from her phone to illuminate the page.

  Wow. Talk about a wrong turn. She was on the west coast of England instead of the east. She found the town of Blackpool and saw the Irish Sea. Blackford Castle was too far away to make the drive tonight. Being so unfamiliar with the small roads, she wasn’t comfortable driving after dark. She’d have to find a place to stay and head to Blackford in the morning. Her cheek felt wet. She touched a finger to her skin. Blood. She must’ve really scraped her cheek.

  The smell of ozone filled the air when the lightning struck, making her jump. It seemed awfully close. In the flash, she spied something in the rubble to her left.

  Melinda knelt down on the floor where she saw the glint. There was a small object. If she could just reach it…

  A shock jolted through her as her fist closed around the small, round object.

  Chapter Six

  February 1327—England

  James Rivers, otherwise known as the Red Knight, blew the errant hair out of his eyes and surveyed the surroundings.

  “Lord Falconburg, welcome to my humble keep.”

  Lord Rudley trembled at the sight of James and his men. He smiled on the inside. Truth be told, he liked the effect he had on men. His disfigurement made him even more fearsome.

  James nodded at the man as he dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting boy. The boy seemed transfixed by his face. James winked at him, and the child smiled. At least one small child wasn’t afraid of him. The rest seemed to run and shriek whenever they caught sight of him.

  His warriors made themselves comfortable. They would leave in the morning if all went well, adding a few more to their company.

  He followed the man inside the keep, noting the faded tapestries and threadbare rugs. No wonder the man was so eager to wed his daughter to the renowned Red Knight. He was in sore need of gold.

  A serving girl took one look at his face, shrieked, and dropped the tray of wine. The cup shattered and wine ran across the floor like blood on a battlefield.

  “She’s a nervous one, my lord.” Lord Rudley twisted his hands and looked as if he were about to start weeping.

  Other servants crossed themselves, young girls shrieked and ran from the hall, while several small boys seemed to be growing. James looked over his shoulder and counted five. As most boys, they were fascinated by scars. He knew if he bellowed they would jump in fright. He yawned, anxious to be on his way.

  An older woman, one not easily scared, brought wine. She poured and left without uttering a word.

  “I will depart in the morning. Will Eleanor be ready to travel?”

  The man stammered and stuttered. “She will want to take her lady’s maid along.”

  “I expected as much. Most ladies seem to travel with a great deal of belongings. My men will ensure she is well guarded.”

  A commotion sounded from the direction of the kitchens. James heard shrieking and the sound of breaking pottery. The girl in question came running into the solar.

  “Father, I will not wed the beast. I would rather die.” The girl skidded to a stop as she caught sight of him sitting in a chair by the fire. Her mouth opened and closed several times, her eyes grew round, she made a strangled sound in her throat, and then she fainted in a small heap in the center of the room.

  With his injured leg, James couldn’t catch her in time. He cursed under his breath as her head banged against the stone floor.

  Her father looked disgusted. “She is high-strung, nothing more. The priest is waiting.”

  More likely she was terrified of him, but the amount of gold James had offered ensured her father would give her to him. James snorted. For the amount of gold he was offering, her father likely wouldn’t care what James did with the wench once he left the keep. He could only imagine the rumors about the unwholesome goings-on at Falconburg.

  The girl’s maid helped her up. Eleanor blinked several times. “Was I dreaming? Did the beast carry me away to his dark lair?” She trembled as a small mouse or rabbit caught in the gaze of a hungry falcon.

  Then she looked at him. Stared at the scars on his face. James knew what was coming and put his fingers to his ears.

  She let out a piercing shriek, jumped up, and fled her father’s hall.

  “No! I will not marry the beast. I cannot bear to look upon him. He will torture me. I would rather die.”

  Lord Rudley looked sheepish
. “She will wed you, my lord. I will beat her until she says aye.”

  James wouldn’t allow the girl to take a beating.

  “She is young. I will not live with a wife who screams and faints every time she sees me.” James stood. “Makes it rather difficult to produce an heir.”

  Lord Rudley pleaded, “Do not go. In time she will come to accept you. There is no need to break the betrothal.”

  James knew Eleanor would never look on him with anything other than revulsion. “I believe the betrothal is broken.”

  He made his way out of the keep, averting his eyes from each person he encountered so he wouldn’t have to see the look of horror on their faces. ’Twas a new experience for a woman to scream in terror when she saw him. James was used to women throwing themselves at him. He was in a foul mood. He wanted children, needed an heir.

  Mayhap he could find a wife who liked living in the dark. Or a blind wife. He called for the horses.

  James slapped his captain on the back. “Eleanor finds me objectionable. There will be no nuptials.”

  Wisely, his captain remained mute.

  James touched a hand to the long scars running down the right side of his aching face. ’Twas fortunate he had not lost the eye.

  Now no fair lady in the realm would wed the beast of Falconburg. The name bestowed by a nameless serving wench while he lay burning with fever in some cursed inn. The cheek. Court news took ages to travel the lands, but a name? James swore viciously under his breath. Seemed every lady of breeding knew it well.

  He used to be considered handsome. Women flocked to his bedchamber. Now, no woman would plight her troth to him, not even for the considerable amount of gold he possessed. Once again he touched the wicked-looking scar as if it were a talisman with unnatural powers. Another scar started at the corner of his nose and ran down through the outer edge of his mouth to march across his chin and down his neck.

  Not long after he and his battled-hardened warriors left the keep, they were surrounded by ruffians. James had wanted to avoid the forest, but knowing it was the faster way home, he’d ignored the warning in his gut.

  Men dropped out of the trees without making a sound. He admired the skill. Though not the blade presently pointed at his throat.

  “What have we here?”

  James spoke in a quiet voice. “I am the Red Knight. Take your men and leave and I won’t put you and your men to the sword.”

  A few of the ruffians laughed, while others talked amongst themselves, worried looks crossing their faces. He knew his reputation. He was only surprised their leader had not heard of him. His fame had spread since his last battle and subsequent scars.

  Women might fear him, while men stood in awe of his scarred countenance. Some flinched and tried to hide the reaction. A hideous warrior made the minstrels swoon as they composed ballads to his fearsome reputation. If only they could conjure him a wife. Now he was destined to spend the rest of his days alone. A hermit in his castle. The rumors of unsavory doings would soon follow.

  Out of the corner of his eye, James saw one of the men nock an arrow. Without thinking, he unsheathed the tools of his trade. ’Twas what he was known for, fighting with two swords. The name, the Red Knight, came from his blood-soaked armor and sword during battle. Even in the aftermath, his skin would be stained red for days from all the blood.

  The skirmish was brief. He cut down the first with one thrust. And ran three more through while the men finished off the rest. Disgusted, James looked down at the motley group of men. Many of them looked hungry. They’d obviously been living in the forest, preying on unwary travelers. They chose the wrong men to trifle with this day.

  Tired, his shoulder aching from the arrow wound, James shifted in the saddle. He wore silk under his tunic, as arrows could not pierce silk. The tip went in, taking the silk with it, and could be pulled out without leaving any fragments behind, thereby decreasing the chance the wound would putrefy.

  He was distracted thinking of the look of horror on the girl’s face when she had looked upon his visage, and it had cost him. ’Twas disappointing, to say the least. He frowned at the wound.

  “You’ll find another,” his captain said.

  James didn’t pretend not to understand. They’d spent the past fortnight traveling throughout the realm searching for a bride. It seemed even a castle full of gold wasn’t enough to entice a woman to spend the rest of her life gazing upon his ruined face.

  He was the last of his name. James wanted a large family. Sons to carry on when he was gone. A woman to love. Now he would have none of those things.

  Almost home, he urged the horse forward.

  Chapter Seven

  Melinda wiped greenish-black mud off the object. A gold ring lay in her palm, a big, fat sapphire winking up at her. With the hem of her coat, she rubbed the band. It was engraved with flowers, the work delicate. There was a nick halfway through the band, as if something sharp had sliced into it.

  Outside, the storm raged, the sea crashing against the rocks, sending salty spray into the broken wall. It seemed no matter where she sat, Melinda was destined to be soaking wet by the time she left.

  Something about the ring captivated. She slipped it on, watching it spin around. Too big. She tried the ring on her thumb.

  “Ouch.”

  She pulled the ring off and looked at the drop of blood welling up on the inside of her thumb where the ring had cut her. She pulled out a tissue from the pocket of her coat and wrapped it around the jagged edge of the ring. Melinda couldn’t say why, only that she needed to keep the ring close. She slid it back on her thumb, feeling the blood soak through the tissue, warm against her skin. The scent of copper filled the air, mingling with the salt spray.

  Lightning struck so close she saw flashes of the pattern when she blinked. Her hair stood straight out. Her whole body felt like static electricity, alive and sparking. Random thoughts skittered around her head. How she must look like Medusa, with the corkscrew curls standing out all over her head instead of snakes.

  A terrible sound of tearing metal filled the air. It was similar to when she’d been waiting at an intersection and two big trucks collided. An entire side of one of the trucks completely shorn off. Talk about a horrible screeching sound. It made her teeth ache long after the accident was over. Flashes of light filled her vision and she heard what sounded like voices.

  “Who’s there?”

  She felt numb, as if she’d been outside in the snow for a very long time. The sounds and lights grew brighter, louder, and she shut her eyes, wishing they would go away. A sensation of being pulled under, like the undertow sweeping her beneath the waves, filled her. Melinda struggled, to no avail.

  It was so quiet. Why couldn’t she hear the ocean beating against the rocks? Melinda opened her eyes and sat up, brushing snow out of her hair. Wait. There was snow on the ground?

  She turned her head from side to side. She was no longer inside the ruined castle. In fact, she couldn’t even see the castle. She stood up, wobbled, then stretched her hands out wide to regain her balance. After a deep breath, she turned in a slow circle. Where was the road she’d driven in on? Not only that, where was the car? The castle? What on earth was going on?

  A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and Melinda sat down before she fell over. A raven cawed, landing beside her in the snow, the black feathers stark against the white. He looked at her, cocking his head.

  “Want to tell me where I am?”

  Lovely. She must’ve hit her head when she fell to be having a conversation with a bird. The bird cocked his head again, cawed, and took to the air. Okay, maybe she wasn’t the best company. She shivered. Melinda looked around for her coat but didn’t see it. She remembered using the warm garment as a blanket when the storm hit. She’d wrapped it around her to keep warm. Great, no money either. It was in the pocket of her coat. Teeth chattering in the bitter cold, she stood and started walking. The fluffy snowflakes looked beautiful. They didn’t get much sn
ow in Holden Beach. In the distance she thought she heard the ocean, but which direction was it coming from?

  Maybe she’d rolled down the hill when she fell? Melinda turned and began walking in what she thought was the direction she’d driven. Grateful she’d worn warm clothes and tall boots, she pulled her hands into the sleeves of the oversized sweater and stopped. Melinda looked at her left hand. Where was the ring?

  The beautiful ring. Given its size, she knew it belonged to a man. Melinda didn’t care for jewelry on men, though she could imagine this ring on a strong hand, its owner rugged and tall. She ran a finger over her thumb, felt the small cut, and knew she hadn’t imagined the ring. Melinda looked around, thinking the ring would stand out in the snow, but didn’t see it. It was too cold to spend the day looking. She’d freeze to death.

  As she walked, she swore the landscape looked different. More wild and untamed. Melinda didn’t know how long she walked, but certainly long enough that she should have found the road. Seen another car. At least moving kept her warm. Maybe she should change direction? While she stood still trying to decide which way to go, she heard thunder again. But different. Not a storm.

  Men on horseback rode straight for her. And it looked like they were in a hurry. She squinted, because something looked out of place, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. As they came closer, she could see what bothered her. The men were dressed in some kind of leggings, long shirts, and long cloaks. And were those swords? She blinked three times. Yep, swords.

  Her heart beat in double time as the big question flashed in neon lights. Had she done it? Really gone back in time? The rest of her thoughts were cut short as one of the men unsheathed his sword and swung at her head.

  Common sense, or fear, or whatever you wanted to call it, kicked in at the last moment, and Melinda dropped to all fours. When she could breathe again, she stood to give them a piece of her mind. Five men surrounded her.