Chapter Nine 

So far she'd lost the sapphire ring she'd found in the rubble, been abducted by a group of smelly men, knocked around a bit, and just when she thought she was going to die, he'd showed up.

Melinda had been so busy trying to escape that it took her a moment to process what was happening. The man, James, was unlike any man she'd ever seen back home. His thick black hair reached his shoulders and looked like it was long overdue for a trim. Yet it was his eyes that held her. They were a clear green that reminded her of the ocean. But on a man that would just be silly. And what a waste. She knew women who would kill for his eye color.

Melinda wasn't sure if her body shaking was from the cold or the adrenaline wearing off. She'd never experienced anything of the sort before. The closest she'd come to violence had been when some teenage boy stole her parking spot during a downpour, making her ruin her favorite heels. Maybe coming to the past wasn't the best idea. She frowned. No matter. Even with everything so far, she'd do it again if it meant finding Lucy.

She'd really done it. Gone back in time. Melinda made a face. She thought knights were supposed to be chivalrous. James hadn't even helped her up on the horse; he just stood there watching her with a weird look on his face. She felt like an incompetent child as she tried to climb into the saddle. Come on, it's not like everyone goes around riding horses every day. I'd like to see you drive a car. Barely, just barely, she managed to resist sticking her tongue out at her savior. Not very grateful behavior, but then again, he made her feel like a child scolded for coloring outside the lines. When that man, Renly, had helped her up, she wanted to hug him.

The good captain had also helped James up on the horse. She scooted forward to give him space. He was huge. They both just fit on the horse. Melinda kept looking at the ground. It seemed a lot further to fall from way up here. In reality, she knew there was plenty of room on the horse. It was more the feeling of him behind her, his thighs pressing against hers. Riding together was intimate.

Maybe he was some kind of spoiled entitled nobility? Though he didn't seem jerky.

"Oh my gosh! It's not a ruin."

As they approached the castle, Melinda heard the voice of Aunt Pittypat in her head. Better shut your mouth before you swallow a bug, sugar.

James looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. She didn't bother to answer. She was too busy looking at everything around her. She could hear the ocean pounding against the rocky shoreline. And as they approached the castle, she could see small freshwater lakes. A fish jumped, breaking the reflection.

"Are those saltwater or freshwater?"

He looked to where she was pointing. "The meres are freshwater, fed from a spring. They are stocked with fish to supply the kitchens."

She could see the main gates reflected in the water. The castle dominated the landscape. It was all very medieval and forbidding. Good luck to the enemy trying to breach these walls. Talk about awe-inspiring.

As they rode through the portcullis, she looked up at the spikes. It was a strange feeling, knowing she'd looked at the same spikes in her own time, where the castle and outbuilding were ruins. Now everything looked…not new, but lived in. The whole scene was nothing like she expected. Where were the starving, smelly people and half-rotten vegetables? A small half-laugh, half-sob escaped. Everything she knew about medieval life was gleaned from books, movies, and television. Would it be enough to help her navigate through the times?

The map she'd looked at when she sheltered from the storm showed Blackpool. Falconburg Castle wasn't far from the village. And Blackpool was about two hundred and fifty miles from the Scottish border. She kept trying to orient herself for when she could set out and look for Lucy. Know which way to go.

Hopefully this man would help her. If he wouldn't go with her, at least he might lend her a horse and some supplies so she could find her sister. Blackford Castle, the last place Lucy was seen alive. If Lucy wasn't there, where on earth would she look? It wasn't like she could open up a web browser and search for Lucy Merriweather.

Melinda turned her head side to side so many times, taking in everything as they rode into the castle proper, that her neck ached. She had to give whoever had built the thing credit. By riding through those freshwater ponds and the Irish Sea on the other side, it basically turned the castle into an island with only one approach. Talk about intimidating your enemies.

Melinda wasn't sure how she went back in time, but however she did, she was ever so grateful. She sent up a word of thanks to whoever was listening.

"I don't mean to repeat myself, but what year did you say it was?"

He looked at her as if she were an annoying toddler before answering. "The year of our Lord 1327."

Elated, Melinda fist-pumped the air.

"By the saints, are you unwell?"

Maybe a bit too exuberant a reaction.

"I'm fine. Just happy to be here."

She'd really done it. If only she knew how. Did it have something to do with the storm? She wasn't sure. And then the more obvious question…could she get back to the future? Charlotte would be beside herself when she found out yet another sister had gone missing and was now presumed dead.

What would the authorities say? That she'd committed suicide—filled with grief over losing her sister, did herself in?

James' men dismounted. Instead of dismounting, he sat there waiting like some warrior king, and she wondered, what for? Was he one of those guys who had to be all Lord of the Manor?

"My lady?"

One of the men held out his hands, and Melinda let him help her off the horse. She was unstable for a moment after riding for so long, but found her balance and stood, stretching out the kinks. She turned in time to see the same man helping James off the horse.

And then she knew.

She should've guessed by the horrible scars on such an otherwise strong and handsome face. He'd obviously been injured recently. She could tell by how badly he was limping. She felt like a complete witch thinking such mean thoughts about him when he obviously couldn't help her. What kind of doctors did they have nowadays?

A plump older woman came bustling over and the courtyard erupted into chaos.

"What have we here?"

James finished speaking with his men and came over to the woman. "This is Melinda Merriweather. See she has a bath and something hot to eat."

Before Melinda had a chance to thank him, she was bustled inside. A bath would be heavenly. She didn't care if every person in the castle was put to work heating the water; she was dying to get warm.

"Come along, child. You may call me Mrs. Black."

"Melinda. Melinda Merriweather."

She followed the woman up several flights of stairs. The woman pushed open a heavy door. It was some kind of bedroom. She didn't have time to look around, as she was ushered into a small alcove off the room. It contained a large wooden tub with some kind of cloth padding. Smart. Then the user wouldn't get splinters in their hiney. Small boys filled pots from a pipe sticking out of the wall. They poured the water into a huge black cauldron over a hearth. The fire crackled, and she could feel the warmth thawing her bones.

As she waited for them to finish heating the water and filling the tub, she looked around the bedroom. She expected Spartan and cold, no color. But this. The room was colorful and smelled of herbs. The fabrics were sumptuous, with beautiful rugs scattered over the stone floor and a couple of tapestries on the whitewashed walls. No smelly straw or threadbare blankets. James obviously had money.

"Mistress? Your bath is ready." The woman sent the boys out and handed her what looked like a lump of soap, a square of linen, and a comb made out of bone.

"Thank you."

A young girl walked in balancing a tray of food and drink. Melinda sniffed. Wine and beef stew? Who cared what it was? She was ravenous.

"I don't want the water to get cold."

"Mrs. Black said eat a few bites and you'll feel better."

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.