Chapter Thirteen 

James leaned back in the chair. William Brandon. He hated the man with a passion. 'Twas he who'd massacred James' entire family in a dispute over lands so many years ago. Because of him, James was the last of his name.

It must have been a score of years ago when William Brandon was awarded Blackford Castle on the coast of the North Sea. If he had the chance, James would kill Lord Blackford without a moment's hesitation.

He was but a babe when it happened. James was the youngest at two years old. Theirs was a loving family. He had two older sisters and three older brothers. His mother and father loved each other very much. While theirs was an arranged marriage, they'd fallen deeply in love. At least, that was what the servants told him.

A hazy memory of walking through blood filled his dreams. Another was the sound of laughter—he thought perhaps 'twas his parents' laughter. A distant cousin arrived at Falconburg. Took him home to raise James as a son. A powerful lord of few words. When he heard James crying himself to sleep, he used to say, "Crying doesn't help." He'd never had the guts to tell his cousin crying made him feel better. Instead he'd learned to suppress his emotions.

When William murdered his family, Falconburg and its inhabitants were engaged in a feud with the Brandons. His father's trusted advisor had told James that William killed his oldest brother during a battle, starting the feud. His other brother Henry swore it had been done in a cowardly fashion. He didn't know exactly what happened—only that William and his mercenaries had massacred James' entire family. The only reason he was spared was because a trusted servant hid him in a chest at the foot of her bed. In the aftermath, one of the servants found him trying to wake his father, covered in blood.

A few years later, William wed a strange wench. There was talk of the lady being a witch. No one knew where she'd come from. Who her people were.

And now Melinda Merriweather appeared on his lands. Coincidence? James didn't believe in coincidence. He could not deny the strange manner of speech and Melinda's odd ways.

The story she told him of traveling from the future—was it possible? Could she be from the future? And if so, did that mean her sister Lucy was also from the future?

From what James knew, Lady Blackford had married William a score of years ago. How could she be Melinda's sister? Melinda was very young.

The thought of burying his blades deep within William's heart pleased him. Then he scowled and stomped around the solar. If he went to Blackford, William would see his scarred face. Mark his injuries. James would appear weak.

"Well? When do we leave?"

"I told you to leave me be, woman."

He scowled at the woman in front of him.

"Oh, is that what you said? I thought you wanted me to fetch more wine." She held up a jug.

If he could heal, they could go in the spring. It would give him time to plan his revenge.

"The weather is too treacherous to make the journey. We will make the journey in the spring."

"Spring? The hell if I'm waiting till spring. I have to go now. Don't you understand? That woman could be my sister. You don't know what I've gone through."

"You will not argue with me, wench."

Her head came up to his chin. She stood so close to him that James could see flecks of gold in her green eyes. Right now they were narrowed at him. Her skin turned a fetching shade of strawberry. She looked beautiful. He wanted to take her in his arms.

James shook himself. If she was the sister of Lady Blackford, Melinda had been sent here to spy on him. He could not trust her.

"Wench? You are an arrogant, insufferable jerk. Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm going. I don't give a fig what you say."

James shut his mouth with a snap. Never in his life had a woman argued with him. His word was law. Yet Melinda Merriweather stood up to him like the fiercest warrior and bellowed. He suppressed the beginnings of a smile. He liked her feisty nature. She wasn't afraid of him, even though he looked like a monster.

Melinda slammed the door behind her as she left. James stood staring into the fire, pondering what to do. He best have his men watch her. Given her temper, she would try to find a way to go on her own. It was what he would do.

He went to the door, yanked it open, and bellowed down the hallway, "Renly."

Renly skidded to a stop in front of him, out of breath from running.

"My lord?"

"Have two of the men watch over Mistress Merriweather. Make sure she doesn't try to filch a horse from the stables."

His captain arched a brow but refrained from speaking. Instead the man turned on his heel and left the room.

James might admire her spirit, but he would go no further with his feelings. He would not allow himself to care for the sister of a Brandon.

The nerve! Melinda stomped around the chamber. If that insufferable, arrogant ass thought he could tell her what to do, he was sadly mistaken.

Melinda wanted to throw something, but there were so few items in the room that she leaned into the covers and screamed.

She planned to go down and eat dinner. But when she walked into the great hall and saw James sitting at the table talking with his men, she was afraid she would scream at him if she stayed.

So the weather was bad—so what? She understood it wasn't like getting in a car and driving, worrying if the roads were clear. The few roads she'd seen were basically mud. But still. The thought of Lucy being on the other coast was enough to make her crazy. Melinda wasn't going to wait. She kept to the edge of the hall, making her way to the kitchens.

She said hello to the cook. "I'm rather tired. I think I'll take dinner in my room."

The cook nodded, and Melinda was left to fix a platter while servants scurried to and fro. She made sure to take extra for her road trip.

Back in the room, she ate dinner and planned. Anger didn't help. As much as she wanted to storm and stomp around the room, she had to focus.

There was no way she could leave at night. The gates would be closed, not to mention her horrible sense of direction. She'd get a good night's sleep and leave in the morning. With everyone coming and going, she could slip out unnoticed.