Free Cards & Caravans by Cindy Spencer Pape

Kay?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice. This was more unbelievable than one of her fairy stories. “Is your grandfather an earl then? Maybe a duke?”
    “Ah, no, just a baronet.” He gave her a silly grin. “It’s the same for most of the families within the Order. The only duke is Lord Trowbridge. His family name is Lake, or du Lac, if you will. Marquess Drood, from ‘druid,’ is descended from Merlin.”
    “Lancelot and Merlin.” Funny, Connor didn’t look like a lunatic. But his story was utterly absurd, although Micah had said something about an Order.
    “Of course. A few of the gifts have passed through daughters, so not all the names are dead giveaways. Baron Northland’s surname is Hadrian, for example, and his home is in Northumberland, adjoining the ancient wall. I think Sir Tristram was his ancestor.” They passed by a handful of cottages, and when people ran out to look, Connor leaned out the window and waved.
    After a few more minutes, he pointed to the top of the hill they were presently climbing. “Watch. As soon as we crest the hill, you’ll see Kay’s Tower. It’s a beautiful sight, if I do say so myself.” The look on his face was so happy and carefree, she almost let herself relax and feel excited too—especially when he looped a casual arm around her waist. “And it’s built to withstand torches and pitchforks, even if your squire and alderman manage to follow us.”
    He seemed so youthful—laughing and joking about the most serious of subjects. And then she looked into his eyes. Beneath the ready smile was such steely, lethal intent, that she caught her breath. This was no stripling, despite his jovial nature. He’d proved that when he broke her out of gaol and in bed last night. Suddenly, she wondered what he’d done to be knighted at such an early age. Under the winsome grin and easy banter, this man was a warrior.
    “Look ahead.” His voice thickened and deepened. His gaze fairly smoldered as he ran his eyes down her body from head to feet. The muscles of his shoulders tensed. A glance down at his trousers confirmed his lust.
    Her skin quivered. That he still wanted her after last night caused a little thrill to dance in her belly.
    “You’ll see the castle in just a moment or two.” After a short pause, he said, “There.”
    “Oh.” She gazed out at the castle from a fairy story, the kind she wrote in her notebooks. It wasn’t white or daintily built, but made of a dark gray stone, with stout walls topped by turrets. The outbuildings stood off to one side, and the whole compound was circled by a low curtain wall and a stream that forked around the castle to form a moat. A footbridge arched over it to the front door of the tower itself, while a heavier drawbridge gave access to the court, where several children ran about, throwing a ball with a number of giant dogs, just like the one on the statue. The vista managed to convey power and hominess all at once. “It’s...amazing,” she said. “Lovely.”
    “It’s home, that’s the main thing.” He squeezed her waist. “Pull up right in front of the drawbridge. We might as well park this thing in the yard now, rather than make someone move it later.” He dashed back to shovel several more scoops of coal. When she reached the drawbridge leading to the court and stopped, he kissed her cheek and hopped out.
    He waved at the man in a squat tower guarding the gate. “Laren, I’m home. Let me in.”
    “Master Connor. What the ‘ell ‘ave you there?” Even as he spoke, he pulled a lever and the mechanical winch lowered the bridge with a rumble. “Come on in, then. Your grandmother’s worrying a mite that you wouldn’t make it in time.”
    “Just a mite, eh?” Connor laughed as he walked across the bridge and was immediately mobbed by the children. “Come now, out of the way. Let the lady in the gates, you little monsters.” He picked up a small boy and plopped him over his shoulders, then