Chapter Eleven 

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.

"I didn't spend much." She set the coins on his desk.

He looked surprised. "Keep the coin."

Melinda put them back in the pouch. They'd come in handy when she was traveling across the coast.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for rescuing me. And for the hospitality."

He inclined his head, or at least she thought he nodded. It was kind of hard to tell in the dim light.

"Sit by the fire. Why were you traveling without escort? What were you doing on my lands?"

Talk about a man of few words. Melinda wouldn't be snarky. She needed a place to stay until she could find Lucy and go back home.

"Are you a learned man, Lord Falconburg?"

She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she could feel the curiosity from across the desk.

"I am educated, lady. Why do you ask?"

She stood up and came closer, intending to sit beside the desk, where she could see his face and gauge his reactions.

"That's close enough. Stay by the fire." He must have realized how rude he sounded, for he said, "You needs be warm. You are wet from the rain. I wouldn't want a fever to take you."

Melinda didn't play games. Never understood the whole playing hard to get thing. She decided the best tack was the truth. Even though it was going to make her sound crazier than her famous great-grammy Lucy Lou Merriweather.

"It's kind of a long story. Might we have something to drink?" Yep, stalling, but she needed a few more minutes to gather her nerve.

A soft groan was the only indication James moved. The rug muffled his footsteps. When she looked up, he stood in front of her, pouring the wine. The firelight cast half his face in shadow.

Before the scars, he must have been beautiful. While most women would call him ugly or beastly, Melinda found him incredibly attractive. The scars gave him depth, made one look past the pretty. Scars on this man told of someone who could take care of himself. A man who could take care of others.

Obviously realizing it was going to be futile to go back to his desk. James limped to the chair across from her and sat down with a groan. She pretended not to notice. His injuries seemed to bother him more as the day went on. By dinner he visibly limped.

"The reason I ask if you're educated is because my story is going to seem unbelievable." She drank half the wine and refilled the goblet. Telling the truth was harder than she thought. Since she couldn't come up with a plausible story for why she was traveling alone, and dressed strangely, Melinda decided the truth was the best bet.

For some reason she knew he would be able to sense if she were lying. Instinct told her if he thought she lied, he would refuse to help. Thus far he was the best bet for someone to help her. Given she needed all the help she could get navigating the strange and unfamiliar terrain, she would be upfront with him.

"The reason you found me alone is because I am alone. I was looking for my sister and I got turned around and ended up at your castle. Only I didn't know was your castle. You see, when I was visiting your castle it was…a ruin."

She stopped and looked at him to gauge his reaction. He was leaning forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together under his chin. He watched her, and she felt like a schoolgirl sent to the principal's office for putting gum in Nosy Nellie's hair.

He bared his teeth. "My castle in ruins. Are you feebleminded?"

She couldn't help it—she laughed. Not a normal laugh, more like some kind of strange, hysterical half-laugh, half-sob.

"If only. But no, I'm fine. When I woke on the day you found me, it was February fourteenth…2016. And then you told me the year is 1327. That's why I'm alone and why your castle was a ruin."

She whispered, "I'm from the future."