Free Hard Day's Knight by Katie MacAlister Page B

Moth was flaked out also had sponsor emblems on it. I suppose if they could do it to race cars, a horse’s tack was fair game as well.
    “My sweet, I’m sure if we put our minds to it, we can come up with all sorts of other interesting topics of conversation. No, Claude, not that one, the iced champagne. And bring the salad before the scallops. How is your duck, Pepper?”
    Claude shot Farrell an anguished look as he turned and retreated to the rear part of the RV, assumedly where Farrell kept his portable wine cellar. I glanced down at the smoked Muscovy duck appetizer on the hand-painted plate before me. “It’s good. I’ve never had duck with a maple vinaigrette before. You really don’t believe in roughing it, do you? And I’m sure that there are all sorts of things that we can talk about, but what I’d really like to know is why you keep taunting Walker about being a failure and a loser and all that.”
    “You’ll like the salad, as well. It’s yellow tomato and buffalo mozzarella with Nicoise olives and a delightful herb vinaigrette from my own recipe,” Farrell said with a knowing smile. “After that, we’ll have tian of grilled scallops—you do like scallops, don’t you?—and Parmesan risotto. As for roughing it, why should I dine off charred-on-the-outside, undercooked-on-the-inside hamburgers and canned beans when I can have a romantic, well-cooked dinner for two?”
    Farrell’s RV was just as elegant as he was, done in shades of black and gold. The dining area held a small linen-covered table with real china and crystal wine-glasses, embraced by a half-moon curved black suede seat. Ice clinked in the back of the RV as Claude, evidently Farrell’s body servant as well as squire, hunted for the champagne.
    “I don’t think dinner with the Three Dog Knights would have been as bad as all that, and yes, I like scallops, and this table is gorgeous, as is the food, but why are you so anti-Walker? Have you known him for long? And why are you guys always sniping at each other?” I kept my tone light to deemphasize the fact that I was grilling him.
    He laughed and raised his hands in surrender, nodding when Claude thumped back with a bottle of champagne covered in beads of water. “I can see I will be unable to steer you to more interesting topics until your curiosity is satisfied. Very good, Claude, you may pour it. Salad next, when you are through.”
    I quickly stuffed a piece of Muscovy duck into my mouth after Farrell raised his eyebrows at the untouched plate before me. “Delicious.”
    “Mmm. Shall we have a little toast?” He waited until I lifted my glass. “I believe it is traditional to toast a lady’s beauty when one is dining in such a manner, but in this instance I’m going to toast the winner of the tournament, for surely the lady in question will bestow him with the warmth of her smile and the charm of her presence in such a way that he will not fail to appreciate her beauty.”
    He clicked his glass against mine, sipping the champagne as I said, “Very nicely done, but you’re assuming two things that well may not happen.”
    He raised his chin in a practiced hair flip that had his golden hair shimmering down his shoulders. “Really? What might those two assumptions be?”
    “First, that a man will be the tournament champion. From what I’ve heard, there are several women jousters.”
    “True, and although some of them are very good, very good indeed, none have ever won the title of tourney champion when the world’s top male jousters are competing.”
    Such complacency rankled. “You may find yourself surprised.”
    “Why, do you intend to joust against me?” The amusement in his eyes did a lot to dampen any interest I might have had in him as a prospective mate. Besides, the honest little voice in my mind pointed out, he’s much too handsome for the likes of you .
    “No, certainly not. I don’t even know how to joust, but I have met Veronica and Bliss, and they