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

by Cynthia Luhrs

Chapter Seventeen

  James would not tolerate a shrewish tongue or disordered curls. And especially not eyes the color of emeralds. His gaze fell upon the ring lying on top of the desk. ’Twas a family ring. The large sapphire reminded him of her. Mysterious and full of hidden depth.

  Flowers and vines carved into the band reminded him of her wanton curls. His finger had healed crookedly and the ring would no longer slide all the way down. He hoped in time it would fit again. James tried it on his right hand. It slipped over the knuckle, fitting perfectly. He laid it back on the desk with a thud. No—he would not wear it again until he was whole. His boot hit the wall, and James cursed. Mayhap he would never wear the ring again. Her face would likely haunt him for a very long time indeed.

  The cheek of the lass. Melinda Merriweather had run off and gravely insulted him by stealing his favorite warhorse. She’d spent the previous night in her chamber. James had left her alone to her womanly thoughts but when he didn’t see her the next day, he inquired of the servants. No one had seen her. A small boy from the stables came forward.

  “I’m awfully sorry, my lord.” The boy looked at the ground, kicking at the dirt. “Mistress Merriweather said you wanted her to take your horse for a ride. I knew you didn’t let anyone ride him, but she can be very fearsome.”

  James rolled his eyes. He could imagine her standing there, hands on her hips, intimidating the boy into giving her what she wanted.

  “The horse went willingly? He did not bite her?”

  The boy nodded vigorously. “She gave him carrots. He liked them very much.”

  James should have known she’d find a way to leave. He snorted. The bloody horse could be bought with a simple carrot. Melinda was a full day ahead of him. Several of the men rode with him as he set off on his second-best horse to find her. She was no doubt headed for Blackford. James would have to show his deformed face. Listen to William’s taunts. He scowled. Let him yap like a dog. James would take his head.

  One of the men rode back to James. “My lord, ’tis passing strange—the tracks lead in the wrong direction.”

  He could not keep the smile from his face. She was traveling north, not east. If Melinda continued, she would eventually arrive in Scotland. He could not imagine she meant to travel to the land of barbarians. The smile turned to a frown. Unless she were a spy and plotted to meet her master.

  “We follow.” Was it too much to ask for a meek and quiet girl? One he could get with an heir and a spare, then leave her behind tending his home whilst he went back where he belonged, to battle.

  What else was there? He craved the thrill of battle. The clanging of swords. If James was no longer a warrior, he was nothing. The wounds on his body healed slowly, paining him greatly. He shifted in the saddle to ease the ache, grateful when they stopped to eat midday.

  James eased himself off the horse, his left leg giving way. He managed to catch himself and leaned against the horse until his leg would hold his weight. He would not fall in front of the men. They knew what had happened to him. Had seen the terrible injuries. Renly and three others had carried him from the battlefield.

  ’Twas the most grievous insult to be told by the healer and his sovereign he could no longer fight. To know he was less. Would never be whole. All that was required of him now was to provide men and gold as his sovereign required.

  They traveled the rest of the day, following the tracks.

  Renly chuckled. “Seems the lady is going in a circle.”

  The tracks ended at the cliffs. For a moment James could not breathe, imagining her broken on the rocks. He dismounted and walked to the edge. Relief swept through him. There was no sign of her or his horse. No sign they had fallen over the edge in the dim light. No fallen stones or debris. The tide was rising, and it would be dark soon.

  His best tracker stood before him, discomfited. “The lady traveled in a circle. Wandering, as if she had no idea where to go.”

  So she wasn’t riding for Scotland. It seemed she didn’t know where she was going. Blackford was the opposite direction. Couldn’t they find their way in the future? James shook his head, unwilling to believe her fantastical tale of time travel.

  One of his knights approached. “There are trees near. We can make camp.”

  There were other tracks nearby. James peered down at a set of tracks. Renly knelt down.

  “’Tis the big black. See the mark here? He got it…in the last battle, my lord.”

  It went without saying he meant the battle where James and his horse were injured. So his horse was nearby and traveling with others. Had Melinda met her master? James would discover the enemies plotting against him. What coward sent a woman to do their work?

  “We follow. Find the lady.”

  The men mounted up, keeping silent, following the tracks. They came to a small clearing. James signaled the men to keep quiet. They dismounted and tied the horses to the trees, making their way on foot. James sent up a prayer his leg would hold. For he intended to destroy his enemy. And Melinda? James didn’t hold with killing women. He wasn’t sure what to do with her. A small part of his mind told him to make her his own, the spoils of the fight. But he could never trust her. And he needed a woman unafraid of him; one he could trust.

  There were five men. One with a broken nose, another with a black eye. Melinda’s handiwork, no doubt. Pride swelled in his breast. The lady had a temper to match her hair. But where was she? He saw no sign. His horse stood with the others, ear twitching. The animal raised his head and let out a low nicker. James shook his head and the horse went back to eating.

  His men approached stealthily so they surrounded the men. James stepped into the firelight. The man with the black eye leapt up, drawing a sword.

  “You dare to steal from the Red Knight.” James pointed to the horse. “Where is the rider?”

  The rest of his men stepped into the firelight, hands on the hilts of their swords.

  The man with the broken nose spat. “The wench is dead.”

  Red rage washed over James. Instinct made him draw his blades. With one fluid motion, the man no longer had a head. He flipped the blades up, resting them on his shoulders.

  “What happened to her?”

  One of the other men reached for a bow and soon found himself with a blade to the chest courtesy of one of James’ knights.

  Three ruffians remained. One tried to run and was cut down. James was in no mood to take prisoners. For killing Melinda, they would all die this night. He was within his right to kill them for stealing his horse. He wanted to make them suffer for taking the one woman left in the realm who could look him in the eye without flinching. The man with the black eye dropped his sword.

  “The witch wasn’t worth the trouble. We took her horse and left her to die as an evil one should. Cleansed by salt water.”

  Ice formed across James body. They’d drowned her?

  He pointed a blade at the man’s neck, noting the red drops welling under the tip of the blade. James brought the sword up, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

  “Tell me now and I’ll grant you a quick death.”

  The man gulped. “She’s in the cave. We tied her to the wall. By now the tide is high. She is drowned. The witch tried to put a curse on us.”

  James ended the man with one thrust of the blade. As he sheathed his swords, he looked around. The five men lay dead around the fire.

  “Take the horses.”

  There was a fallen tree nearby. James stepped on it to mount the horse.

  “To me.” He urged the horse to a gallop, his men following. Was he too late? Had he failed her? James wouldn’t think on it. He urged the horse forward, faster.

  The wind shifted and he thought he heard her cry out. He and Renly scrambled down the side of the rocks. The rest of the man stayed with the horses in case any other danger was close by.

  He heard his captain suck in a breath. “James, ’tis too late. Look to the entrance.”

  James eyed the op
ening of the cave, the water close to the top. He turned to Renly. “If I do not make it out, take care of the men.”

  James removed his cloak, leaving one of his swords and knives behind. He took the other sword and knife and dove deep into the water. He couldn’t see very well; the salt water turned everything a murky green. The water chilled him through as he swam through the opening. He came up with his head a few feet from the roof.

  “Melinda!”

  He heard coughing.

  “Over here.” Her voice was weak.

  She struggled to keep her head above water. James went under, could feel both her hands and legs fastened to iron rings set in the wall. With the knife, he cut the ropes binding her legs and came up for air.

  “Please don’t let me drown.”

  “Take a deep breath.” James watched the next wave wash over her face and knew he was out of time. He dove again, cutting through the ropes binding her hands.

  She was sinking. James grabbed her around the waist and swam, using all his strength. Strength he didn’t know he had left within his body. He pulled Melinda through the opening. Renly and the men waited to help. One of the men threw a rope down. James tied it around Melinda’s waist and they pulled her up. James climbed up the rocks, ignoring the pain burning through his body. As he neared the top, two of the men reached down and pulled him over the edge. He lay there gasping.

  Melinda was as pale as the moon. She wasn’t moving. James rolled onto his knees and crawled over to her.

  “Don’t go, love. You must wake.”

  He turned her on the side, pounding on her back, as he’d seen done to men who almost drowned in the past. Living by the sea, one learned to swim as a child. Everyone knew someone the sea swept away to a watery grave.

  She started to cough and retched up seawater. James continued to pat her on the back until she expelled all the water.

  He tried to lift her up, but his leg gave way. “Bloody hell.”

  “Let me take her,” his captain said.

  Another man helped James up on the horse. ’Twas all he could do to stay upright in the saddle. Renly lifted Melinda, helping her onto the horse and James pulled her close.

  “Don’t ever do that again. Methinks you almost killed me, lady.”

  She tilted her face up to him.

  “Don’t worry. I have no intention of ever drowning.”

  He stroked her hair.

  “Did the men. Did they—defile you?”

  She rolled her eyes at him, teeth chattering.

  “I’m fine… Well, other than almost drowning. I told them I’d put a hex on them and make their man parts fall off if they touched me.”

  His men crossed themselves. James threw back his head and laughed. A rusty, grating sound, but a laugh nonetheless. Seemed only Melinda Merriweather could make him smile.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sound emanating from James’ mouth startled Melinda. Was he choking? No. It was a laugh. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh, and it sounded like a cross between a rusty door squeaking and a hippo with a cold. The goofy sound coming out of such a serious man’s mouth made her laugh as well. She sneezed three times and wished for a never-ending box of tissues.

  “You are traveling north, lady, not east—unless you planned to travel to Scotland?”

  Melinda twisted in the saddle to look at him. Once she knew he was watching her, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  “I’m the absolute worst with directions. It’s something of a Merriweather curse. All of my sisters have a terrible sense of direction. One time, Charlotte, she’s my youngest sister, was on her way home and there was an accident. In taking a detour, she got lost and ended up two towns away.”

  She pulled the cloak more tightly around her and sneezed again. Her head ached and she couldn’t feel her toes. Part of her was detached, taking in the scenery, and the other part wanted a hot bath and to sleep for a week. In her mind there was nothing worse than having a cold. She’d rather be sick for a few days than deal with a cold that could last for a week, easy. Melinda knew she was the most awful patient. All she needed was a good meal, a cup of spiced wine, and a hot bath. She’d sell her soul for a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice. A good night’s sleep and she would be fine. There was no time to get sick; she had things to do and places to go.

  When she told him how awful she was with directions, James actually smiled, a full-on smile with teeth showing. It transformed his face. And he had straight white teeth. Melinda ran her tongue over her own teeth, thinking of all the yellowed smiles with rotted or missing teeth she’d seen since arriving. She’d heard the whispers around the castle. Seen the small girls running from him. Didn’t they realize how their behavior must hurt his feelings? Just because he was a warrior didn’t mean the man didn’t have feelings. Melinda would break down and cry, likely never leave her house again, if people ran screaming from her. But James seemed to take it in stride, at least on the outside.

  She leaned against his chest, the vibration of his heartbeat calming her.

  “Why do you hate William? Is he really so terrible? Though after what happened with the last guy Lucy fell for, I better reserve judgment until I hear the story. It was all because of him she ended up in the past.”

  A fit of coughing racked her body before she could ask another question. James helpfully pounded her on the back. Hard enough to send her sliding off the horse. He caught her before she went over.

  “Apologies.”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right. Will you tell me about him?”

  Sitting in front of James on the saddle, Melinda felt him flinch. Yes, she was curious about his past, and the longer he took to answer the more her imagination filled in the blanks. What if Lucy was with another man like Simon? Or held here against her will?

  James spoke in a low tone, his breath warm against her ear.

  “I was but a babe when it happened. William killed one of my brothers during a battle. My other brother said ’twas done on purpose. William stabbed my brother in the back. What happened on the battlefield that day unleashed a feud between our families. It ended when William and his men killed my parents, my brothers, and sisters. A servant hid me in the chest in the bedchamber. ’Tis the only reason I was spared.”

  She put a hand on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. To grow up without family is a terrible thing. And to know the man responsible is free. I would want him to pay for what he did.”

  “William Brandon will pay.”

  “My sister is with some old man? We have to save her from him. She wouldn’t be with a horrible man unless he’s holding her against her will. Do you think he forced her to marry him?”

  The story James told her ratcheted up her worry. She needed to leave in the morning for Blackford Castle.

  “How long ago did you lose your family?”

  “A score of years.”

  “Is that ten?”

  She could feel the vibrations through James’ chest as he spoke. She liked listening to his voice. The accent was yummy, but it was the depth of his voice that made her feel safe.

  “A score of years is twenty, lady.”

  “I was right, then—William Brandon is a dirty old man.”

  James actually chuckled. “He is forty…mayhap forty-five years old, though I’m told he’s in remarkable health for a man his age. Still fights for the king in battle.”

  Melinda couldn’t imagine being with a man twenty years older than she. And there was no way Lucy would. She didn’t like older men. Always dated men her own age or very close. Something didn’t add up.

  “What would you do, lady? Would you slay an entire family?”

  For a moment she didn’t answer. Her ex-boyfriend Carl used to say he loved her looks, so she didn’t need to speak. He thought she was dumb, never asked her opinion. James asked her what she thought. Seemed interested in the answer.

  “I think you can only guess what you would do. Unless you’re actually in
the situation. I would like to think I’d be rational enough to talk through what happened. But I’m not sure. I have a bit of a temper.”

  James laughed again, his odd-sounding laugh. “Aye, lady. You have a fearsome temper.”

  She elbowed him in the stomach and smirked when he let out a grunt. Another fit of coughing racked her body.

  “The thing is, we don’t know why William killed your brother. Maybe William is a jerk and relishes killing people. Then again, could there have been something else going on? We weren’t there, so we don’t know the truth. I swear, I will take your sword and kill him myself if he’s harmed my sister.”

  Back at the castle, James tended to the horses while Melinda sipped a cup of spiced wine and nibbled on a bit of bread. The fires burning in the kitchen made it toasty, but she couldn’t get warm. Mrs. Black told her to stay put while the servants heated water for the bath. Her head hurt, she had the sniffles, and she kept coughing and sneezing.

  Given how many times she’d ended up soaking wet outside in the cold, Melinda shouldn’t be surprised she’d caught a cold or maybe the flu. She’d hoped the cold virus was different in the past and she’d be immune. Wishful thinking. If only she had Aunt Pittypat’s tried-and-true, never-fail hot toddy recipe. A cup of hot tea with a splash of whiskey, a spoonful of honey, and squeeze of lemon always worked wonders. Drink the concoction several times a day for a couple days and she’d be back on her feet feeling healthy again.

  Her aunt would’ve loved traveling back in time. She was always up for new adventures. Melinda could picture her on the battlements under a full moon, dancing naked. Wherever her aunt was in her journey of the afterlife, Melinda knew she was having the time of her life. She reached to her neck, touching the necklace. Her aunt had never been one for material possessions. The necklace was all she had left. It was very precious to her.

  Melinda soaked in the tub until her skin looked like a raisin. Mrs. Black brought her another dress. The gray one was ruined after ripping on the rocks and being in the salt water.