Chapter Eighteen 

The sound emanating from James' mouth startled Melinda. Was he choking? No. It was a laugh. It was the first time she'd heard him laugh, and it sounded like a cross between a rusty door squeaking and a hippo with a cold. The goofy sound coming out of such a serious man's mouth made her laugh as well. She sneezed three times and wished for a never-ending box of tissues.

"You are traveling north, lady, not east—unless you planned to travel to Scotland?"

Melinda twisted in the saddle to look at him. Once she knew he was watching her, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm the absolute worst with directions. It's something of a Merriweather curse. All of my sisters have a terrible sense of direction. One time, Charlotte, she's my youngest sister, was on her way home and there was an accident. In taking a detour, she got lost and ended up two towns away."

She pulled the cloak more tightly around her and sneezed again. Her head ached and she couldn't feel her toes. Part of her was detached, taking in the scenery, and the other part wanted a hot bath and to sleep for a week. In her mind there was nothing worse than having a cold. She'd rather be sick for a few days than deal with a cold that could last for a week, easy. Melinda knew she was the most awful patient. All she needed was a good meal, a cup of spiced wine, and a hot bath. She'd sell her soul for a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice. A good night's sleep and she would be fine. There was no time to get sick; she had things to do and places to go.

When she told him how awful she was with directions, James actually smiled, a full-on smile with teeth showing. It transformed his face. And he had straight white teeth. Melinda ran her tongue over her own teeth, thinking of all the yellowed smiles with rotted or missing teeth she'd seen since arriving. She'd heard the whispers around the castle. Seen the small girls running from him. Didn't they realize how their behavior must hurt his feelings? Just because he was a warrior didn't mean the man didn't have feelings. Melinda would break down and cry, likely never leave her house again, if people ran screaming from her. But James seemed to take it in stride, at least on the outside.

She leaned against his chest, the vibration of his heartbeat calming her.

"Why do you hate William? Is he really so terrible? Though after what happened with the last guy Lucy fell for, I better reserve judgment until I hear the story. It was all because of him she ended up in the past."

A fit of coughing racked her body before she could ask another question. James helpfully pounded her on the back. Hard enough to send her sliding off the horse. He caught her before she went over.

"Apologies."

She shook her head. "It's all right. Will you tell me about him?"

Sitting in front of James on the saddle, Melinda felt him flinch. Yes, she was curious about his past, and the longer he took to answer the more her imagination filled in the blanks. What if Lucy was with another man like Simon? Or held here against her will?

James spoke in a low tone, his breath warm against her ear.

"I was but a babe when it happened. William killed one of my brothers during a battle. My other brother said 'twas done on purpose. William stabbed my brother in the back. What happened on the battlefield that day unleashed a feud between our families. It ended when William and his men killed my parents, my brothers, and sisters. A servant hid me in the chest in the bedchamber. 'Tis the only reason I was spared."

She put a hand on his thigh. "I'm so sorry. To grow up without family is a terrible thing. And to know the man responsible is free. I would want him to pay for what he did."

"William Brandon will pay."

"My sister is with some old man? We have to save her from him. She wouldn't be with a horrible man unless he's holding her against her will. Do you think he forced her to marry him?"

The story James told her ratcheted up her worry. She needed to leave in the morning for Blackford Castle.

"How long ago did you lose your family?"

"A score of years."

"Is that ten?"

She could feel the vibrations through James' chest as he spoke. She liked listening to his voice. The accent was yummy, but it was the depth of his voice that made her feel safe.

"A score of years is twenty, lady."

"I was right, then—William Brandon is a dirty old man."

James actually chuckled. "He is forty…mayhap forty-five years old, though I'm told he's in remarkable health for a man his age. Still fights for the king in battle."

Melinda couldn't imagine being with a man twenty years older than she. And there was no way Lucy would. She didn't like older men. Always dated men her own age or very close. Something didn't add up.

"What would you do, lady? Would you slay an entire family?"

For a moment she didn't answer. Her ex-boyfriend Carl used to say he loved her looks, so she didn't need to speak. He thought she was dumb, never asked her opinion. James asked her what she thought. Seemed interested in the answer.

"I think you can only guess what you would do. Unless you're actually in the situation. I would like to think I'd be rational enough to talk through what happened. But I'm not sure. I have a bit of a temper."

James laughed again, his odd-sounding laugh. "Aye, lady. You have a fearsome temper."

She elbowed him in the stomach and smirked when he let out a grunt. Another fit of coughing racked her body.

"The thing is, we don't know why William killed your brother. Maybe William is a jerk and relishes killing people. Then again, could there have been something else going on? We weren't there, so we don't know the truth. I swear, I will take your sword and kill him myself if he's harmed my sister."

Back at the castle, James tended to the horses while Melinda sipped a cup of spiced wine and nibbled on a bit of bread. The fires burning in the kitchen made it toasty, but she couldn't get warm. Mrs. Black told her to stay put while the servants heated water for the bath. Her head hurt, she had the sniffles, and she kept coughing and sneezing.

Given how many times she'd ended up soaking wet outside in the cold, Melinda shouldn't be surprised she'd caught a cold or maybe the flu. She'd hoped the cold virus was different in the past and she'd be immune. Wishful thinking. If only she had Aunt Pittypat's tried-and-true, never-fail hot toddy recipe. A cup of hot tea with a splash of whiskey, a spoonful of honey, and squeeze of lemon always worked wonders. Drink the concoction several times a day for a couple days and she'd be back on her feet feeling healthy again.

Her aunt would've loved traveling back in time. She was always up for new adventures. Melinda could picture her on the battlements under a full moon, dancing naked. Wherever her aunt was in her journey of the afterlife, Melinda knew she was having the time of her life. She reached to her neck, touching the necklace. Her aunt had never been one for material possessions. The necklace was all she had left. It was very precious to her.

Melinda soaked in the tub until her skin looked like a raisin. Mrs. Black brought her another dress. The gray one was ruined after ripping on the rocks and being in the salt water.

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.