Knight Moves: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 2) (9 page)

She sat at a small table and quickly ate the entire bowl. A hunk of bread made a great sponge to soak up what was left. Another glass of wine and she felt flexible enough to undress. A groan left her lips as she sank into the steaming water.

“Lady? I’m to take your garments to be laundered.” The girl looked to be around ten. She stood there blushing and shuffling her feet.

“Thank you very much. And thank you for the food. I was really hungry.”

The little girl gathered up the garments, admiring the stitching.

“On second thought, you better leave them. I don’t have anything else to wear.”

“I will inform Mrs. Black. She will procure you proper garments. While you bathe, I will clean the mud off and place the clothes by the fire to dry. You have pretty skin, mistress. And your hair.”

The little girl pointed to Melinda’s hair, which looked like a mess, all things considered.

“I’ve never seen such curly red hair before. ’Tis very pretty.”

And with that, the little girl scampered out of the small room. Melinda could hear her singing softly to herself in the bedroom as she scrubbed the leggings and shirt. Hopefully she wouldn’t shrink the sweater in the hot water. She took a sip of wine and dunked her head, scrubbing her scalp. It felt marvelous to sit and soak. She had to come up with a story of why she was here.

Melinda must’ve dozed off while she was in the tub. Guess she was more tired than she thought.

“Lady? I’m here to help ye.” Another girl stood waiting. This one looked to be around twelve. She helped Melinda out of the tub, efficiently dried her off, and led her over to the fire to dress in the slightly damp but much cleaner clothes. They’d have to do until she had something else to wear. Until she did, she could wash them out each night before bed and hang them to dry by the fire.

“These are men’s hose.” The girl sounded scandalized.

Melinda closed her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She didn’t want to embarrass the girl.

“This is what ladies wear where I come from.”

The girl looked dubious, but handed Melinda the leggings and watched as she slipped them on.

 
When she woke this morning, she’d been so excited to get going, she’d forgotten to put on undies. Probably for the best now. As to her bra? She needed it for now.

“What is this, lady?”

The girl held up the bra, peering at it closely.

“It’s called a bra. Goes on like this.”

She couldn’t believe she was dressing in front of this kid. At the gym was one thing. Everyone went about their business and no one stared. But the girl looked over every inch of her. Melinda turned pink.

The girl wrinkled her nose.

“’Tis an odd garment.”

Bras hadn’t been invented yet, and by the reaction, Melinda didn’t worry she’d done anything to change history. She pulled on the long-sleeved shirt and then the oversized sweater. The little girl kept touching the sweater, and when she picked up Melinda’s boots, she stroked the leather.

“’Tis so soft.”

“They were awfully muddy. Please thank whoever cleaned them off while I was bathing.”

The little girl bobbed a curtsy and left the room. As she was leaving, the older woman, Mrs. Black, came bustling in. The woman was always in a hurry.

Mrs. Black eyed Melinda up and down.

“You are tall for a lady, mistress. Have no worries, I will find you something more fitting to wear.” She clapped her hands together. “Lord Falconburg is hearing a dispute. Come along and we’ll find you something more to eat.”

“Thank you. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

The woman looked horrified, but shut her mouth and led Melinda to the kitchens. There a servant put another bowl of the hearty stew and a piece of thick bread in front of her.

Left to her own devices over the next week, Melinda explored the grounds. She didn’t have a guard, but no matter where she went, there was always someone watching. So she was a guest but not someone trusted. If a stranger showed up in her backyard looking for help, Melinda would probably call the cops. It wasn’t safe anymore to take in strangers. Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as she thought. She waved at her pretend guard and went on her way.
 

“Lady?”

She turned and looked into green eyes with impossibly long and thick lashes.

“Lord Falconburg. It’s a pretty day.”

He looked to the sky. “Aye.” James shifted from foot to foot. “Here. Buy yourself a ribbon for your hair.” He handed her a few coins. “If it pleases you.”

“Thank you. I lost my money…during my travels.”

The man in front of her looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything. It was true. Her money was in her coat pocket somewhere in the castle…over seven hundred years from now.

“The dress looks lovely.”

She touched the soft wool. It was a heather gray and made her feel like she didn’t stick out so much. There was a belt with a small pouch hanging from it. Melinda put the coins inside, once again wishing for pockets.

She thanked him.
 

“Walk with me?”

He took her hand, drawing it through the crook of his elbow, then stiffened, as if she wouldn’t want to take his arm. And that was when she thought he must have been sexy and charming before the accident. Sure of himself. He was still sexy, and she could see charm buried underneath his frown. Now he seemed to hide behind the scars and a grumpy demeanor.

James started to pull away, but she pulled on his elbow. “I saw the blacksmith making something. Would you explain its purpose?”

He looked relieved and pulled her along. Aunt Pittypat was right. When in doubt, ask a man to talk about himself or explain something. Worked every time. Melinda trotted to keep up. It was weekly market day. It was fun to see so many people and explore the vendors and goods.

James didn’t say much. She felt awful when they passed a couple of pretty teenage girls and they shrank back. He stiffened, and Melinda could almost see the black mood hovering above his head.

He bought her a few ribbons to tie back her hair. She exclaimed over the dried and candied fruit, and he bought her candied cherries.
 

“These are so good. Sure you don’t want one?”

He didn’t smile, but didn’t look as cranky. “It pleases me to see you smile.”

“Lord Falconburg?”

James turned to one of his knights. Melinda nibbled the cherries and eyed a merchant selling fabrics.

“I take my leave of you.”

She watched him go. They hadn’t discussed why she was here yet. From the looks of things, he was in constant demand. He’d get to her eventually. In the meantime, she hadn’t found anyone that knew Lucy. The plan to go to Blackford was the best idea she had. Now to get up the courage to ask James for a horse and help getting there.

Melinda went inside to the kitchens to find the two girls who’d been assigned to help her. She wanted to give them the rest of the candied cherries. While she still didn’t have a good feel for the cost of things, she gathered they were expensive because of the sugar. The girls would love them.

“Mistress Merriweather.” The cook handed her a roll, hot from the oven. Melinda put a bit of butter on it and sat at the table to eat, enjoying the warmth after being outside.

She was almost finished when a man ambled in. Melinda knocked a bowl off the table, the pottage splattering across the floor. A dog darted in, licking up the mess. With a shaking finger, she pointed at the man’s neck.

“Where did you get that?”

Melinda chased the poor man out of the kitchen and into the courtyard. She had to weave in between the crowds to keep up with him. As he turned the corner, she reached out and snatched his cloak.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to know, where did you get the scarf?”

The man looked nervous. What? Did he think she’d strike him? She smiled and stepped back a pace. He visibly relaxed.

“From Lady Blackford. She made it for me after she saw me admiring a brightly colored scarf the stable master wore. She’s been teaching others to make them. Now they’re sold at the weekly market at the castle.” He fingered the end of the scarf. “’Tis very warm.”

“Wait. Blackford? As in Blackford Castle?”

The man nodded, grinning at her as he stroked the beautiful gray scarf. “Don’t know of any other Lady Blackford.”

“Lady Blackford. When did you see her last?”

The man tapped his finger against his chin, thinking. His face brightened. “’Twas a few months ago, lady. Do you know the Lady of Blackford?”

Melinda thought she was going to pass out. Was Lucy actually here in 1327? She’d come back to the right time.

“What does the lady look like?”

The man didn’t seem surprised by the question. Then again, it wasn’t as if people traveled back and forth across the coast every day. Some of the castle folks had never left Falconburg lands.

“She’s lovely. An older lady, mind. Beautiful silver hair. And lively blue eyes.”

Melinda’s heart sank. She didn’t know when crochet had been invented, but seeing the scarf made her think Lucy was here. Now, hearing this man’s description, she shook her head, it couldn’t be right. Lucy had long brown hair. She wasn’t gray. Melinda thought back to the museum. The woman in the painting. Her hair was up, but Melinda swore it was dark, not silver. The information was a good lead. One that begged investigating.
 

“One last question. How far is it to Blackford Castle?”

The man was interrupted when a young boy appeared. “I’m to take you to Lord Falconburg.”

She waved at the man. “Thank you, and enjoy the scarf.”

He smiled and went on his way.

The boy led her through twisting passageways. There was no way she’d find her way back to her room. They came to a heavy wood door.

The boy knocked and gestured for her to go in. She stood in some kind of study. Masculine and oh so dark inside. In the short time she’d been in the past, Melinda had grown used to the lack of electricity, but she expected a few candles to be lit.
 

“Leave the lady with me.”

The boy nodded, shutting the door behind him. Not sure what to do, Melinda stood in the center of the room. Being in such a different time, she knew to be careful what she did and said. From what she’d seen, she accepted she was living in a violent time. Sure, the U.S. had its share of violence, but at least in the present she had some semblance of authority, and social media to document every moment of everyone’s life.
 

Here, though—say the wrong thing and find your head rolling down a hill. The last thing she wanted was to find herself tied to a stake, the villagers bearing torches, ready to burn her for being a witch.

“Sit by the fire. Warm yourself. Did you enjoy the market?”
 

“Yes, thank you.” She dug in the pouch at her waist.

She noted James stayed behind the huge desk in shadow and darkness. Seemed a bit silly. She’d already seen his face. Spent hours looking at it as they traveled from the woods to the castle and every day since. What had happened to him? The scars looked recent. Still not sure what kind of man she was dealing with, Melinda held off on asking about Blackford Castle.