What was “electric”? He noticed when she was tired or excited she spoke words he’d never heard before. For Melinda’s sake, James would talk to William and then take the man’s head. He was a man of reason. He would hear the tale from the lips of the man who had massacred his family. Then James would end William where he stood. And if it wasn’t true? He didn’t want to think upon all the years he’d wasted hating a man who perchance didn’t deserve his hatred.
James rolled over and fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams full of dark and evil things.
Chapter Twenty-One
After an entire week on the road, Melinda couldn’t wait until tonight. James promised they would stay at an inn. Whenever she felt like complaining, she instead pictured rush-hour traffic. It worked every time. All the riding had either made her backside numb or she was finally getting used to so many hours a day on the back of a horse.
The snow slowed their progress. How quickly the things you fantasized about changed. Melinda used to fantasize about soaking in the tub, spending an entire day engrossed in a book, playing hooky and going to a movie during a rainy day, lazing on the beach all weekend during the summertime. Now…her greatest fantasy was a roof over her head, a dry place to sleep, and a warm and filling dinner. They’d been eating the wild boar the men had killed for days, and she was looking forward to a change.
The road trip allowed she and James to continue getting to know each other better. He didn’t say much, a man of few words. And thought before he spoke. Melinda found him a refreshing change. The man was insightful and interesting. Best of all, he really listened to her. It was a new experience. One she could easily get used to.
As they rode into the courtyard of the inn, Melinda’s knees buckled as she dismounted from the horse. James was there to catch her.
“Steady, Melinda.”
Over the past week he’d called her by her first name. She felt like they’d crossed some sort of line, getting closer to each other ever since he had saved her from drowning and tended her while she was so sick. You know you like him. Admit it. Melinda pushed the feelings away.
She had to focus on finding Lucy before she could even think about a relationship, especially with someone more than seven hundred years older than she in medieval England. Methinks the lady doth protest too much. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re already in a relationship.
Shut up, voice.
Okay, technically she was older than him at twenty-six. He was only twenty-two. She was never one for dating younger men. It was fun to tease James, tell him he was 704 years older than her. Anyway, she wasn’t staying in the past. Nope, she’d find Lucy and they would go back to Holden Beach and Charlotte. Wouldn’t they?
On the road it had been quiet. With nothing more than the sounds of horses and voices of the men, it was peaceful. They were usually alone as their party traveled through the countryside, only occasionally passing other travelers. Walking inside the inn was like turning the volume up so loud you could hear the song five cars away as the bass pounded through your chest. It was hot inside from all the bodies and roaring fire. Make that unwashed bodies. She wrinkled her nose and took a step back.
“Is aught amiss?”
She looked up at James.
“It’s a bit overwhelming. Kind of a drastic change from the quiet of falling snow, and the horses and men.”
“Your ears will become accustomed to the sounds. ’Tis not as loud as you believe.”
“Welcome. ’Tis an honor to have such a fine lord in our presence.” The innkeeper stood in front of them, wiping his hands on his apron. He was a rotund man with a big smile. Melinda liked him instantly.
James nodded. “We require rooms.”
The innkeeper’s face fell. He gestured to the room around him. “Apologies. Your men can sleep here in the main room. We’ve only the one room upstairs.” He stood there looking miserable, wringing his hands. Melinda felt sorry for him.
“One room will do. My men and my lady require food and drink.”
James led her to a large table in the back of the room. Wherever they went, she noticed he liked his back to the wall with a clear view of anyone coming or going. His men sat on the benches. Their party of seven seemed to tip the scales, filling the inn to overflowing.
Renly leaned across the table, pitching his voice low. “My lord, I do not care for the look of those men.”
Melinda noticed Renly would call James by his given name when it was just the two of them. When there were more people around, he used the formal “my lord.” From what she’d gathered, they’d been fighting together for many years.
Melinda watched James. He would’ve made a great spy. He didn’t even turn his head. And she knew instantly he had taken the temperature of the room. She bet if she asked him, he could tell her about every single person. Intrigued, she put it to the test.
“The man at the table next to the window when we came in—what color is his tunic?”
Renly looked at her funny. James leaned back against the wall.
“His hair is the color of wheat, brown tunic, and he carries a knife in each boot. Though he is in his cups and would not throw straight.” The disgust in his voice made she and Renly laugh.
“I totally missed the knives.”
A serving wench bustled over, flirting with the men as she made her way through the big, open room. The inn had a stone floor, and Melinda noticed there were bones scattered around, as if some of the diners couldn’t be bothered to leave them on the table and simply threw them on the floor. There were several dogs throughout the room. Most of the dogs were well behaved, if in need of a bath.
The large hearth boasted a roaring fire. Melinda could see a back room where most of the cooking must take place. The tables were wood, with long benches so you sat side by side with other diners.
Every time the door opened, a gust of cold air whooshed inside, making Melinda glad they were in the back of the room, even if it was a bit claustrophobic.
“Keep a few of the men on guard.” James turned to her. “I will sleep outside your door tonight, ensure your safety.”
There was no way she was letting him sleep on the cold stone floor outside her room, but she’d wait until they were upstairs to say anything. If he hadn’t been injured, she still would’ve protested but might’ve given in. In her time, a man with his injuries would be in the hospital or at home resting, maybe going to physical therapy. She could tell by the way he moved that his injuries still bothered him. But this wasn’t the place to have that discussion—there were too many ears around.
And Melinda was finding that medieval men and women were bigger gossips than any of the women she’d encountered at home.
The serving wench poured ale for the men. She and James drank wine. She knew he was drinking wine only because she was. Otherwise he drank ale with his men. They were a close-knit group. Trusted each other with their lives. She knew they would keep her safe.
The food finally came. Her stomach growled in anticipation. Dinner was roast chicken with bread and carrots. Melinda had never been so happy to have chicken, after all the wild boar.
They quit talking as everyone dug into the food. It was hot and tasty, and she ate until she thought her stomach would burst.
James bade Renly and the men goodnight. “I will see the lady to her room.”
His captain nodded. “Goodnight, mistress.”
Melinda waved to the men. She’d grown very fond of them in the short time she’d been here. They were overly solicitous of her, making sure she rested enough. One of them would say he needed to go the bathroom or rest for a moment, and she knew it was all for her benefit. She was grateful they paid attention to her needs.
“Goodnight, all. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
A couple of the men looked at her funny, and Melinda laughed. At home they said it jokingly, but here? She better inspect the bedding. The thought of bedbugs made her skin itch.
James opened the door. �
��Stay here a moment.”
He went inside, looked at the room, checked the window, and then nodded to her to come in. The room was small but cozy. The bed looked large enough to sleep four people. She sat down, hearing the crunch. No featherbed or nice sheets here, but it was better than the cold ground and there didn’t seem to be any bugs. There was a small ewer and basin in the room for washing, and a fireplace. She went to the fire, stretching her hands toward the warmth.
“I will sleep outside the door.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She held up a hand. “Hear me out. I know you don’t like anyone to mention it, but you haven’t fully recovered from your injuries. If you sleep on the cold stone floor, you’ll be stiff in the morning.”
James stood ramrod straight, scowling. “’Tis no different than sleeping on the ground at night.”
“That may be true, but I saw you limping when you got off your horse. I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re outside on the floor. Don’t you want me to get a good night’s sleep tonight? And what if those men downstairs cause problems when we leave in the morning? You might be a moment slower because you ache from sleeping on the floor.”
“It would not be proper for me to sleep in the same room.”
“We have slept side by side on the ground for over a week.”
“That is different.”
“No, it really isn’t. Just pretend we’re still outside. You sleep on your side of the bed, I’ll sleep on mine.”
“This is an argument I will not win, is it, lady?”
Melinda put her hands on her hips. “Nope. So just be a nice, chivalrous knight and give in now.”
He made her a bow. “As the lady wishes.”
Melinda went over to the bed and lifted up the blanket and sheet and examined them for the second time.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for bugs.”
James looked like he was going to say something then shut his mouth. He went to the door and looked over his shoulder.
“I will have a word with the men then I’ll be back. I’ll send someone to help you undress.”
And he walked out the door. Talk about leaving on a loaded word. Melinda hadn’t thought about being undressed in the same bed as James.
On the road they’d all slept in their clothes and wrapped in cloaks to keep warm. But here? Their clothes were pretty grungy from traveling for a week. She really didn’t want to sleep in them. Would he sleep in his shirt? What if he slept in the nude? Melinda fanned her face, thinking about all that muscled skin on display.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No bath for her tonight, but at least Melinda would be able to wash. Though it wouldn’t be like a hot shower and her favorite mandarin-orange-scented shower gel. She could almost conjure up the scent. The serving wench was busy with one of the men, whatever that meant. Melinda’s imagination presented her with all kinds of interesting images.
The door opened and the innkeeper’s wife bustled in carrying a cloth and what looked suspiciously like a misshapen snowball. The smell of lavender filled the room. The woman handed her the lump and the cloth.
“A fine lady from France paid for her lodging with these lovely soaps. I thought a lady such as yourself would enjoy it.”
“Thank you. I love the scent of lavender.”
The plump woman gestured to the fire. “I’ll start the water.” She set a bucket and basin on the floor. Seeing Melinda’s look, she said, “To wash your hair, dearie.”
Melinda’s hand went to the tangled mess. “I’m sure it’s full of sticks and leaves from traveling.”
The woman helped her undress. She shook out the dress and cloak and laid them over a chair. “I’ll scrub some of the mud out. They’ll dry by the fire tonight.”
Melinda sat on the stool and leaned her head back. The woman poured warm water over her hair and Melinda heard it falling into the bucket. It was such a treat to have someone wash her hair. That was always her favorite part of a haircut.
The woman used the lavender soap to wash her hair. She plucked out leaves and twigs, all the while keeping up a constant stream of chatter.
Melinda reached up to wipe water from her face.
“You don’t have any hair in your arm-hole.”
She’d better not, with all the money she’d spent on electrolysis for her armpits and upper lip. Too bad the hair on her legs wasn’t dark enough for lasers. She had to rely on waxing, which meant if she was stuck here she’d have to find out how to shave her legs.
“Where I come from, ladies remove the hair.”
“’Tis a strange land.” The woman crossed herself and launched into a tale about the Frenchwoman who’d stayed for several days, and her scandalous behavior.
Melinda closed her eyes, listening to the gossip. The woman knew everything about everyone in the village. And all the travelers coming and going from the inn.
“It sounds very exciting. Different people coming and going all the time.”
The woman held up a twig. “Were you rolling in the leaves, dearie?”
“I did roll down a hill once. Not watching where I was walking.”
“No doubt watching the arse of that fine man yer traveling with.”
She and the innkeeper’s wife laughed.
“The Red Knight used to be a beautiful man.” The woman sighed, rinsed Melinda’s hair one last time, and stood. Melinda heard the woman dumping the bucket out of the window onto the ground.
“’Tis a shame.” She winked at Melinda. “Though the dark hides scars. I’d like a tumble or two with him.”
Warmth spread out over Melinda’s chest and up her face. “He’s very strong.”
“Indeed. Shall I help you wash, lady?”
“I can wash myself. You’ve done more than enough.”
As Melinda turned to soak her stockings in the water with a little sliver of the soap, the woman gasped.
“You don’t have hair on your legs like a wee girl. But lady, the mark on your back…” The innkeeper’s wife crossed herself. “I’ve seen similar strange markings on pagans. Are you a pagan, lady?”
“No, I’m not pagan. Where I come from, everyone has a mark. And all the ladies remove the hair from their bodies.”
The innkeeper’s wife looked dubious, and Melinda bet she’d be the next topic of gossip. The woman gave a short nod and backed out of the room as quickly as she could. Melinda had forgotten about her tattoo. When she graduated from college, she did it to mark the occasion.
It was on her shoulder blade. The simple shape of the sun. To remind her no matter how far she went from home, she would always remember where she came from. The funny thing was, she never left Holden Beach. She’d always thought she would travel the world, but ended up staying in the town where she was born and raised. She had no regrets.
Though be careful what you wish for. Now it looked like she was getting her wish to see other parts of the world. Even if she did have to travel over seven hundred years to the past to do it.
Melinda wrinkled her nose. Her chemise needed a good wash, but then she wouldn’t have anything to wear. The innkeeper’s wife had done a good job of getting the mud and stains out of the cloak and dress. Both were damp and steaming next to the fire. She’d put the cloak back to dry before she went to bed. Right now she wrapped it around herself and sat down in a chair next to the fire. There was a knock at the door and the serving wench rushed in, looking a bit disheveled.
“Yer husband bid me bring wine. He’s an ugly one.”
The girl put the jug and cups on the table and left the room with a flounce, hips swaying.
Melinda wanted to slap the tart. James was not ugly. He couldn’t help what had been done to him. She noticed the innkeeper and his wife also assumed they were married. It was probably best to let them go on thinking so, as they were sharing a room.
She pulled a comb out of her satchel to run through her hair. What did they use for conditioner? A couple of swe
arwords left her mouth just as the door opened and James strode in.
“Crap on toast.”
He stood there, a smile on his face, letting her know he’d heard every word.
“Let me.” He took the comb from her, pulled up the stool, and sat down behind her.
“It’s all tangled. The innkeeper’s wife got the leaves and twigs out, but I don’t think I’ll ever get the knots out. Maybe I should cut it all off.”
“Patience.”
Melinda snorted. “You’re a fine one to talk. Before you work on my hair, let me get you a glass of wine. You’re going to need it.”
She stood and poured them both a glass. It was a red wine with a hint of blackberries. Melinda was becoming a fan of wine.
“You were gone a long time. Is everything all right?”
“Renly and the men will keep watch.” James went to work on her hair.
The fire crackled. Voices and the clinking of crockery, the sounds of horses outside in the stable, and the warmth of the room lulled her into a state of deep relaxation. James was gentle. As he worked out each knot, he didn’t tug or pull. The man had more patience in his finger than she possessed in her entire body. His fingers skimmed the back of her neck and shoulders as he brushed out each tangle.
“The innkeeper’s wife also had a dress in her possession. The same French lady who left the soap left a new gown. I believe it will fit. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to have a few more dresses made for you before we left.”
She felt his breath on her skin, making goosebumps break out on her flesh as he spoke. A heaviness settled over the room.
“A new dress? Thank you. As much as I would like to wear something clean, I think I’ll save it until we get to Blackford. I want to look nice when we arrive.”
He grunted and went back to combing her hair. They sat together in companionable silence, James rhythmically brushing her hair, the curls crackling with static as they dried before the fire. Melinda caught herself jerking awake.
He put the comb down on the table and stood, reaching out a hand. She placed her hand in his, feeling the calluses on his fingers. Mere inches separated them. So close she could feel his breath on her face, smell a hint of wine. The flames from the fire reflected in his emerald eyes.
Knight Moves: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 2) Page 11