The dress was made of dark blue wool with embroidery around the hem and neckline. The chemise felt like linen. There was a matching blue ribbon to tie back her hair, and pretty stockings. She would wear her own boots. She felt very proper and presentable. Almost like she belonged. Imagine someone whose only job was to help you dress every day. Melinda couldn’t fathom it.
Wrapped in a blanket, sipping another cup of wine, Melinda stared into the fire. Things were starting to look fuzzy. She wasn’t a big drinker, so perhaps she was intoxicated. Though when she touched a hand to her forehead, the skin felt hot to the touch. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to insist she was fine and wanted to dress. She better go to bed early.
“Mistress? Mrs. Black says you’re wantin’ to go to bed. Shall I help ye undress?”
Melinda must have dozed off. She wobbled a bit when she stood. “Thank you. I could never undo all these ties by myself.”
The girl helped her out of her dress, leaving Melinda in her chemise. She was starting to like not worrying about undies and bras. The girl laid the ribbon on the table and brush out her hair.
“I’ll fetch Mrs. Black. You’re burning with fever, my lady.”
The girl scurried out of the room. Too tired to care, Melinda crawled into bed and fell into a sleep fractured by nightmares.
Chapter Nineteen
Melinda woke feeling like she’d been run over by a truck. It was an effort to sit up in bed. Legs stretched out in front of him, James slept in the chair, chin resting on his chest. Trying to be quiet, she scooted back against the headboard to get a better look at him. He went out of his way to keep his face hidden. Asleep, she could look her fill.
He didn’t believe her about being from the future. She couldn’t really blame him. If a man showed up at Holden Beach dressed in tights and a long shirt and brandishing a sword, she would’ve called the closest hospital to come take him away. No way she’d talk to the crazy-pants guy. She would have gotten away from him as quickly as possible.
“Thank you for not throwing me in your dungeon,” she whispered, not sure Falconburg had a dungeon but certainly hoping she’d never find out.
He had faint lines around the corners of his eyes. Probably from squinting against the sun. Though she liked to think they were laugh lines. And imagined him laughing and flirting. A hot slice of jealousy burned through her from thinking of him kissing all the pretty women. Bet they threw themselves at him by the dozens.
His face was dark with stubble, and her rescuer looked exhausted, with purplish circles under his eyes. He looked far older than twenty-two.
How many times had that crooked nose been broken? But it was the scar that ran through his eyebrow and eye, stopping beyond his cheekbone, that made her heart ache. He’d been incredibly lucky not to lose sight in the eye. Without thinking, Melinda reached out a finger to trace the scar. He shifted in the chair and she snatched her hand back under the covers.
The door to the chamber opened. Two servants bearing trays bustled in. The sound woke James instantly. His hand went to the sword at his hip. He was out of the chair, sword in one hand, knife in the other, before she blinked. When he saw who it was, he sat back in the chair with a wince.
The smell of freshly baked bread and—was that chicken potpie? It certainly smelled like it. Melinda’s stomach growled. The corner of James’ mouth twitched.
“How do you fare, Melinda?”
He’d called her by her first name. How could something so simple make her so happy? She’d told him he could do so when they’d met, but he’d insisted on calling her “mistress” or “lady” or “my lady.” Or “wench” when he was displeased. What had changed?
“How long have I been sick? I must have had the flu.”
He looked perplexed. Right, the word for flu must not exist yet. But he got her meaning, because he said, “You’ve been abed with a fever for a se’nnight.”
“A week? Seriously? No wonder I’m so hungry.” She threw back the covers. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“You are weak. Stay abed. I will serve you.”
He smelled amazing. Like gingerbread and the ocean. Nope. They certainly didn’t make guys like this in her time. At least none she’d encountered. Melinda leaned back against the pillows and waited. The straw mattress under the featherbed crackled when she moved. He brought her a cup of mead along with the food. She waited until he sat back down before she ate.
“This is so good.” It was some kind of variation of chicken potpie. “Have you been here with me the entire time?”
He kept his eyes on his plate when he answered. “Aye. You gave the servants a fright.” He smiled. She treasured each one, they were so rare.
“What happened? Did I do something embarrassing?”
“You were out of bed trying to climb out the window. Two of the men put you back in bed.” He cocked his head. “They said they’d never heard such words from the mouth of a lady.”
He was trying hard not to laugh. Melinda was mortified to think of the awful swearwords she knew thanks to Aunt Pittypat’s eclectic group of friends.
James chuckled. “The men have taking a liking to your more inventive curses. I daresay there were many they’d never heard before.”
She put her hands over her face, her cheeks hot. “I’m so sorry I caused any trouble. I don’t remember any of it. All I remember were terrible dreams.”
He looked grave. “After…my injuries, I too dreamt of terrible things while the fever held me close. Do not fret. I sent the men away and stayed with you.”
James took her hand in his. She went still, feeling the rasp of the calluses on his palm as he stroked her hand. The muscles in his arm flexed beneath his tunic. The man was about six foot three, and every inch muscled. After seeing him in the lists and fighting to rescue her, she knew where the muscles came from.
James caught her staring at his scarred hand and snatched it away. She opened her mouth to protest then shut it. Calling attention to it would make him feel even more embarrassed. He’d obviously been a man used to showing affection. It was sad to think his injuries changed him so much. She would’ve liked seeing him before.
Strike that thought, said the green-eyed monster inside her. Melinda had the feeling before his injuries he wouldn’t have given her the time of day. Well, he might have flirted with her like every other pretty woman he encountered. He probably fended off women lined up ten deep. Had his injuries softened him? She knew it was idle speculation. Usually she was a pretty good judge of character. Not counting a couple of ex-boyfriends. It seemed poor taste in men was another Merriweather curse. Aunt Pittypat married eight times before she passed.
“Will you tell me how you were injured?”
He leaned back in the chair. “’Twas during a battle. My injuries were so grave the healer said I would surely die.” He crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “I was too stubborn to die.”
James stopped speaking as a servant came in to clear the dishes.
“Do you require anything else, my lord?”
“That will be all.”
When the man left, shutting the door behind him, James finished his wine. He stared into the fire for so long she wondered if he’d forgotten.
“After I healed enough to ride, I rode to claim my betrothed. She ran screaming from her father’s hall. Before…there were many women who wished to wed me. I traveled to meet each eligible maiden. They were terrified by my face. Even here at Falconburg there are those who fear me.”
Melinda’s heart broke in two. She heard the pain in his voice, wanted nothing more than to make it go away. It wasn’t pity; she was angry at those who’d destroyed his face. The violence made her think the wounds were inflicted on purpose.
“No woman in all the realm will wed the beast of Falconburg.” The look of surprise must have shown on her face, for he said, “’Tis what they call me.”
“They’re hateful, silly women. Your looks are merely an outer shell. Looks fade as we
age. They are ours to keep for only a short time. It’s what is inside that counts.”
Melinda could’ve said more, but she had a feeling she should give him small doses. If she told him she found him attractive, he wouldn’t believe her. Lucy was her priority. Part of her yearned to see what would happen with James. A relationship? Something more? They’d only been together a short time, yet she knew more about him than anyone she’d ever dated. They spent all day together.
Melinda felt she’d known him forever. He was solid and steady. Not a man who would go chasing after another woman. A huge point in his favor: he listened to her, asked what she thought. And he didn’t tell her a hundred times a day how beautiful she was. For that alone, Melinda would be forever grateful. Carl used to tell her she was like a painting, something pretty to look at, but of no substance.
Chapter Twenty
Three long, frustrating days passed before the healer pronounced Melinda healthy enough to travel. James stayed by her side night and day. She learned about his childhood, fostering with another family. While he told her it was normal for children to foster, she thought it sounded a bit sad and lonely. Melinda couldn’t imagine being separated from her sisters at such a young age. Of course, he hadn’t had a choice. To have your entire family taken from you at age two. The difficulty in remembering their faces and voices. Melinda was so thankful for the time she’d had with her family. She only hoped in finding Lucy they could go back. Not leave Charlotte alone in the world.
Yesterday James had walked with her through the gardens. New life appearing in the first flowers and plants. Tomorrow was April Fools’ day. She’d been here almost a month. As she sat bundled up in blankets watching James and his men train in the lists, she had to admire the ferocity and grace with which they fought. Kind of like ballet with swords.
Back home… It was odd to keep thinking of it as the future. For it seemed now her future was here in the past. People always complained how busy they were. How stressed out. And the difficulties they faced. She shook her head. They had an easy life compared to these times. It wasn’t like you could run to the grocery store and pick up a few things if you ran out. Here if you ran out during winter, you were out until spring.
James had told her of the years of bad harvests and how he tried to keep his people fed. She couldn’t imagine going hungry. Sure, she’d gone on a few crazy fad diets, been so hungry she’d looked longingly at cardboard, but it was different. Hunger by choice wasn’t the same when you could simply get in the car and drive to the store. Melinda knew there were children at home who went to school hungry. Relying on backpack programs and the local food pantry to ensure they had something to eat on the weekends. But here. She could see firsthand what it was like not to have enough.
It was harder living in the past. At the same time, there was a sense of purpose and peacefulness. The days had a rhythm. And while she’d always been a proponent of technology, Melinda found the lack of it strangely exhilarating. It was nice not to constantly check in and see what everyone else was doing on social media. Here no one called on the phone, wanting something. If you needed to talk to someone, you went to see them or you wrote a letter. And letters could take ages before they were delivered, depending on the various hands they traveled through to reach their destination.
When she’d asked James if he’d heard back from the spy he sent to Blackford, he sat her down and explained how long it could take. She hadn’t realized how long it took to do the simplest things. With a car, one could drive coast to coast in less than a day. The thought of traveling by horse to Blackford had her rubbing her backside.
“Mistress? My lord is ready.”
She touched her necklace for good luck and followed the boy out of the solar, into the cold.
Melinda patted the big black horse. “I brought you a carrot. Now don’t be jealous, I brought a carrot for my horse. I have to treat him nice too.” The horse flicked his ear and nosed her hair. She kissed the side of the horse’s face and whispered, “But you’ll always be my favorite.”
She eyed the dark brown horse. He wasn’t as big as the black. James said the animal was even-tempered and wouldn’t throw her. Comforting thought. She leaned close to the horse, whispering in his ear, “I hope bribes work with you too. How about a nice, tasty carrot?”
The horse happily munched his treat. A good sign. One of the boys helped her up on the horse, and she looked around the courtyard of the place she called home. Excitement filled her.
Finally. She would find out if Lucy was at Blackford. And if she wasn’t, where was she? She knew deep in her gut that Lucy made the scarf. What were the chances people were crocheting here in England before it had been invented? Not likely.
If she found Lucy and they couldn’t get back? Somehow they would leave clues for Charlotte and hope she would find them and also have the ability to travel through time. Melinda still didn’t know how she’d done it. She’d ask Lucy what she thought. Between the two of them, they ought to be able to come up with a theory for Charlotte.
It was a punishing day riding through the rain. James watched Melinda for any sign she was unwell. She never complained. Not even as they rode through a stream and several muddy roads. He admired her spirit. The time he’d spent with her while she was unwell with fever, James would never tell anyone how he worried he was she would die. Melinda Merriweather was the only woman in the realm who looked upon him without making him feel she pitied him. She never flinched from his face.
Might she consider the beast of Falconburg for a husband? Hope had left him long ago, until she came into his life.
The ground was muddy and slow going for the horses. It would likely take them a fortnight to travel to Blackford. Plenty of time to think on his meeting with William Brandon.
James would not take Lord Blackford’s head until Melinda found out if her sister were there. If she was Lady Blackford, she’d been so for a score of years. He’d seen many unhappy marriages. He stole a glance at Melinda. If her sister were anything like Melinda, James thought she would not accept remaining with a man who wasn’t kind to her.
“Halt. We make camp here.” It was early afternoon. James would’ve pushed on for several more miles, but Melinda looked tired. He still didn’t believe her tale of traveling through time from the future, but he did know she was unused to riding. Children sat a horse better, yet she laughed and talked with his men, getting to know each one. The Red Knight and his fearsome warriors reduced to babes around the enchanting Melinda Merriweather.
“Thank the stars. I think my butt is numb.”
His knights chuckled as Melinda stretched to ease her sore body.
James’ leg did not pain him as much. He could now mount and dismount his horse without assistance. If only the scars on his face would disappear. William would take pleasure out of seeing the damage done to him.
When James had finished telling Melinda the story of his family, he wondered why Lord Blackford didn’t seek him out and kill him. He knew James lived, was the Lord of Falconburg. Blood feuds lasted hundreds of years. It made no sense why his enemy would leave him alive these many years. Was it possible there was more to the story than his father’s trusted advisor and servants had told him?
“I made sandwiches.”
He looked at what Melinda held in her hands. It appeared to be two pieces of bread stuffed with cheese and fresh meat from the boar they’d killed and roasted before leaving Falconburg. James took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and nodded.
“’Tis good. An easy way to eat while traveling. I never thought to put meat and cheese between bread.”
One of the knights called out, “The mustard is what makes the food taste so good.”
“No, ’tis the honey,” another of the men said, chewing his sandwich.
Renly held up a hand. “Spicy and sweet together is the secret.”
“You get the extra sandwich.” Melinda handed James’ captain the remaining morsel. James was jealous of food. Wh
at a dolt.
“The men do not believe she is a spy.” Renly spoke in a low voice so she would not hear.
“Aye. Their stomach wants to believe.” James watched her as she moved easily among the men.
“Then how did she come to be on my lands, alone? You see how she cannot find her way.”
“Mayhap her story is true. I have oft wondered if there were truth to the stories of faeries and spirits.”
James snorted. “You believe her tale?”
Renly looked at Melinda. She was singing a song to the men. It was unlike anything James ever heard, something about letting things go. The tune made him want to tap his feet.
“Aye. What she thinks shows on her face. If she were lying, we would know. Think you her sister is Lord Blackford’s wife?”
“The Lady Blackford is old enough to be her mother. Melinda said her sister vanished at midsummer in the year 2015. And ’twas February 2016 when Melinda traveled through time. Her sister was twenty-four. But Lord Blackford’s wife must be forty or forty-five, and ’tis said she was a beauty in her day with flowing brown hair. Look at Melinda’s red hair. No, the Lady Blackford is not her sister.”
“Mayhap they traveled to the past and ended up in different years?”
James thought about it. Who knew what powers were at work to bring a person through time? The explanation made sense. If it were true, Melinda would likely faint from fright when she saw her sister aged.
“Make sure the men are ready to kill Lord Blackford’s guard when I give the word. I am undecided whether to talk to the man first or run him through and then talk.”
Renly rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Kill them, not kill them. Makes no difference to me.”
James pulled Melinda close as they bedded down for the night.
“You will catch an ague.”
She yawned. “It’s nice to sleep next to you, like having my own electric blanket.” A soft sigh escaped her lips as she fell asleep.
Knight Moves: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 2) Page 10