Cards & Caravans (5 page)

Connor found the blanket cupboard and returned to their room, hoping Belinda was asleep. It wouldn’t be the first or last time Connor had slept on the floor. The blanket was a boon, as was the indoor plumbing. Even in this era of high technology, not every country inn had bothered with such conveniences. He let himself into the room as silently as possible, not wanting to disturb Belinda’s sleep. He glanced at her, curled into a ball under the covers. She’d had one hell of a difficult day.

Despite the horrendous situation, he had to admit, he liked Belinda and had no qualms taking her back to the Tower where his family would be gathered. He couldn’t wait to see her with his sisters. Belinda might be expecting a snooty bunch of upper gentry when she reached the Tower, but that was so far from the truth it made Connor laugh. Geneva, Baroness Findlay of Torkholm, was a no-nonsense physician, and Melody, Connor’s twin, worked as a dirigible engineer for the Order. Both were graduates of Lovelace College for women in the sciences. The renowned Lady Lovelace, who had invented the machine code to operate Lord Babbage’s famous analytical engine—the machine that had changed the world—had also opened up Oxford University to females.

As he washed, he thought of Wink Hadrian, Melody’s dearest friend. Connor had considered Wink the love of his life. When she’d rejected his proposal, he’d been devastated. Now, he thought perhaps she’d been right. Maybe they were meant to be friends rather than lovers. She’d certainly never stirred him anywhere near as deeply nor as quickly as the curvy widow asleep on the other side of the screen. And he barely knew Belinda at all.

After scrubbing his skin nearly raw to remove the soot and coal, he dragged on a clean pair of smalls from his portmanteau to sleep in. Then, carrying his blanket, he crept around the dividing screen and prepared to bed down on the rug in the center of the room.

“Sir Connor?”

Shite, just hearing her say his name while she was in bed was enough to have him hard as an axe handle.

“What?” He hoped she didn’t need to be held again. He didn’t think he could stand it without either making love to her or dying. “And just call me Connor. We’re supposed to be married, after all.” Which made no sense, given that he’d shamelessly used Tom’s name instead of his own.

“Very well, Connor.” Her voice was husky, deep for a woman’s and erotic as hell. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

He dragged in a breath. “No, I’d be better off down in the tap, but I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m trying hard not to take advantage of you, Belinda.”

Her chuckle was sultry. “How about if I take advantage of you? I’ve been widowed a long time. Women—we have physical needs too, you know. We’re only human.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Does admitting it make me an immoral woman?”

“Not by my standards. I’ve no quarrel with anyone who isn’t hurting anyone else.” He reminded himself that she was still liable to be in shock from her ordeal.

“Are you married, or promised to someone else?”

Connor shook his head, although she probably couldn’t see it. “No, I’m remarkably unattached.” And likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, although a germ of an idea had begun to form—one he wasn’t ready to look at directly, at least not yet.

“Then come to bed with me,” she coaxed. “After everything that happened, I need to feel alive, instead of imagining the flames. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“That’s a dangerous road you’d start us down.” He had just enough grip on his sanity to remember the hazards.

“Not so dangerous,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a widow, not a virgin, and I’m barren, so there’s no risk of a child.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes it’s the man’s problem.” It was ridiculous to get into the science of things at a moment like this, but Connor’s brain wasn’t working clearly enough to filter out irrelevant thoughts. Instead, it seemed to take refuge in the minutiae. Furthermore, he discovered he didn’t like to think of her having lain with—having loved—another man. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?

“I’m sure. My husband had a daughter with his first wife,” she replied. “I met him several years after they both died of a fever.”

“I’m sorry.” Somehow he thought that might be the right thing to say. He’d heard something about that from the squire, hadn’t he? Again, his brain wasn’t exactly in working order at the moment.

“Unless...” She paused. “I could understand if you were too tired—or if you simply didn’t want me. I am older than you, and not as pretty or lighthearted as I might once have been.”

“Oh, good lord, woman, a few years is nothing. And you’re stunning.” Had she really missed his attraction to her? “I want you so much my eyes are crossing.”

“Then come to bed.”

He wasn’t an idiot. Somewhere in the back of his brain, that plan firmed and shifted, but Connor still didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he shucked his smalls and climbed onto the bed.

A surprise greeted him. Belinda was naked too.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him farther under the covers. Their bodies fit together as if they’d been designed for each other. She was small but strong and curvaceous, not some fragile waif he’d have to worry about breaking in half. Connor was a big man, and he’d just discovered that a short, sturdy woman suited him fine.

Refusing to let her take complete control, he rolled her to her back as he kissed her, pinning her hands to the bed with his. Their lips tangled in long, drugging kisses, their tongues dueling for dominance as they explored each other’s mouths.

Finally, Connor broke the kiss, smiling as he kissed his way down to her breasts. He sent a spell winging to the candle beside the bed, sparking it to life. Belinda was beautiful with clothes on, and he wanted rather desperately to see her without them.

The dim and flickering light didn’t reveal much but skin darker than the typical British notion of beauty, yet smooth and lovely. Her breasts were bountiful and flushed, her generous nipples dark and pearled. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste them, so after swirling around each with his tongue, he drew one into his mouth.

Belinda whimpered and clutched his head closer. Connor took that as assent and suckled harder, loving the salty taste of her skin, scented with rose petals and plain soap, while one of his hands delved lower, across the slightly rounded curve of her belly to the juncture of her thighs. The crisp curls he found were delightfully wet and slick. When he slid his fingers along her crease, she bucked her hips and whimpered his name.

“So bloody beautiful,” he murmured as he switched to the other plump breast. Her responsiveness thrilled him. He eased one finger deeper, testing her readiness, and found her tight—far tighter than he would have expected for a widow. Lifting his head he said, “There’s been no one since your husband, has there?” He didn’t know why that pleased him, but it did.

“No. I’ve never wanted to take a lover before.”

Something savage and possessive began to coil in Connor’s gut. He wasn’t thinking clearly enough to label it. All he knew was he needed to see to her pleasure because once he got inside her, it would be over far too quickly.

He found the pearl of her sex and began to stroke it gently, then with a slightly firmer touch as her body told him with moans and small movements, exactly where and how she liked to be petted. In just moments, her hands fisted in the sheets and she cried out his name as her body convulsed. He continued to kiss her breasts, to stroke her sex, until she’d almost calmed. Then he moved over her and once again plundered her lips.

Meanwhile, he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed his way in, feeling the little ripples of her climax fluttering around him. Nothing,
nothing
, had ever felt this good.

He stayed still for a moment, deep inside her core, feeling her damp heat surround him. She was tight, which he’d expected since she’d been celibate for years, but he had anticipated just how amazing that would feel to him. Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders and that warm embrace seemed to go all the way to his soul. He began to move, slowly at first, then faster as she met each stroke and encouraged him with her fingers digging into his back and her lips dancing with his.

After just a few thrusts, her head fell back, and she moaned, “Yes.” Her legs twined around his hips, and her entire body contracted in a sharp spasm as she peaked again.

Her muscles clamping down on his erection finished Connor. He shouted her name as he buried himself deep against her womb. The climax that ripped through him was like nothing he’d ever known grabbing his emotions as well as his ballocks. His body poured itself into her over and over again, until he wasn’t sure there was any life left in him at all.

“Holy hell,” he murmured into her hair, long moments later, when he could speak at all. “You’re an amazing woman, Belinda.”

Her chuckle was a bit breathless, but deep and sweet. “I’ve never been quite like that before. Somehow you make me lose all my inhibitions. Thank you.”

“I’m honored.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “And you’ve got that backward. It’s I who should thank you.” Connor knew there were things they needed to talk about. Important things, including that plan of his. Right now his eyes refused to stay open. He barely remembered to roll to the side so he didn’t crush Belinda as they slept. He did gather her close, as if he never intended to let her go.

Chapter Four

Belinda woke with the warmth of a man behind her back and instinctively snuggled into the heat. A strong arm tightened around her waist, and lips feathered against the back of her neck.
Connor
. Odd, how even in her sleep, she’d known exactly who it was.

“Good morning.” His big hands caressed and soothed her bare skin and his lips shaped the curve of her ear. “I wish we had time to linger and get even better acquainted, but we really ought to be going.”

“I know.” The events of the last few days slammed into her like a runaway horse. She shivered and rolled to bury her face in his chest, feeling the crisp curling hairs against her cheek. The scent of him aroused her all over again, but this time she didn’t give in. After a moment to compose herself, she pulled away to sit up, the covers clutched up above her breasts.

“Feeling better?” He sat as well and studied her face. “You look rested, at least.”

She nodded. “I am. Thank you.”

He lifted one eyebrow and that youthful grin quirked his lips. “Oh, you’re more than welcome. Are you sore?”

Belinda felt her skin flush. “A little.” It had been a long time since her body had gotten that sort of exercise.

Connor kissed her deeply enough to make her bones melt all over again. Then, with a groan, he climbed out of bed. Utterly unconcerned about his nakedness, he strode over to the lavatory screen. “I’ll wash up first, then go make a phone call while you have a quick bath. All right?”

“Fine.” She leaned against the headboard and let her eyes close for a few moments while she waited.

It seemed only a moment later when Connor stood over her with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, gently shaking her shoulder. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Belinda jolted upright. “Beauty? Ha. Right now I probably look more like the evil crone.”

“Bull.” Connor yanked the covers away and ran an appreciative gaze over her too-full curves as she bolted for the bath. “You look good enough to eat.” He imbued the sensual words with the heat and intensity of a promise.

Barely an hour later, after a hurried breakfast, they were back on the road. It had stopped raining and the countryside was shining and bright. Neither had spoken a word about what had happened the night before, and it wasn’t something Belinda wanted to bellow about over the engine noise.

I’m
sorry
,
Micah
. She searched her heart for remorse as she took the controls. Not only had she betrayed her husband’s memory, but she’d been the aggressor. Connor was enough of a gentleman that he would have never initiated their lovemaking. She ought to feel immoral, but the sense of rightness remained. She had relished every second and couldn’t truly regret it.

Her response to Connor had astounded her. Although she’d enjoyed the marriage bed, she’d never missed it to the point of taking a lover. Relations with Micah had been sweet, loving and gentle. Connor’s lovemaking had been none of those. And if she was being honest with herself, nothing had ever felt so good.

It’s
all
right
,
Linnie
.
You’re
a
young
woman
yet
,
and
I
wasn’t
all
that
young
or
randy
,
even
when
we
were
wed
.
You
deserve
a
little
fun
—
and
a
good
man
to
keep
you
warm
at
night
.

Micah
? She still wasn’t sure he wasn’t a figment of her overactive imagination.

Aye
,
lassie
.
’Tis I
.
You’ll
be
getting
no
scolding
from
me
.
You
should
have
moved
on
with
your
life
years
ago
.
’Tis more
than
time
.

But
I
love
you
. It wasn’t past tense. She still loved Micah—just—perhaps not in the same way she had, or thought she had. He’d been twenty years her senior, always her teacher, her caretaker, never her partner or equal.

Aye
,
there
you
have
it
.
You’re
your
own
woman
now
and
you
need
a
man
who
can
stand
beside
you
,
not
before
you
. She could all but feel Micah’s big, work-roughened hand on her hair.
Stop
worrying
about
me
.
It’s
time
for
me
to
move
on
.

Move
on
? She wanted to ask him more about this afterlife, but that seemed selfish and unimportant compared to just talking to him.

Aye
,
pass
to
the
other
side
.
My
Emily
is
waiting
and
our
little
Julia
.

Weeks ago, she’d have felt a pang about Micah wanting to go to his first wife and the daughter they’d shared. Now she thought perhaps it was right. She’d had him for long enough—he’d helped her grow from an idealistic girl who wanted a more rooted life than the circus into a competent, self-reliant woman. Perhaps it was time for him to go home. She only had one question.
But
what
will
I
do
?

She felt, rather than heard his familiar chuckle.
The
Knights
will
help
you
.
They
employ
gifted
women
,
you
know
.
You
may
well
find
a
place
amongst
them
.
At
the
least
,
they
can
help
you
sell
the
farm
and
buy
a
cottage
somewhere
else
.
Perhaps
they’ll
even
help
you
publish
those
stories
you’ve
been
scribbling
at
for
years
.

Knights
? She knew Connor had been knighted, but this sounded different. She made a note to ask Connor about it later. Meanwhile, she pondered Micah’s words. Perhaps she would make an effort to get her children’s stories published. She could think of no more rewarding endeavor. She loved her writing, but it had never been more than a private fancy. Before she’d married Micah, she’d never told a living soul about her notebooks. While her grandmother had taught her to read and write, literary pursuits weren’t highly regarded among her troupe.

Aye
.
Knights
.
And
if
you
choose
to
marry
and
have
a
family
of
your
own
,
nothing
would
make
me
happier
,
lass
.

But
I’m
barren
.

Another chuckle kissed her spine.
Are
you
?
Or
was
that
me
,
after
my
bout
of
fever
?
Perhaps
one
day
you’ll
find
out
.

“What?” She shrieked that last out loud, forgetting to speak inside her mind. What did he mean she might not be barren? After last night, she had damned well better be.

“Everything all right over there?” Connor called from around the divider.

“Fine. Just thought I saw a deer in the road.” It was the first lie she could think of. Dissembling had never been her strong suit, despite being trained by her fortune-telling grandmother to gull the customers.

“Well, keep an eye out. They’re pretty bold around here, though the noise should scare them away.” He started whistling an old folk song, and she absently began to hum along.

Micah
?

There was no answer. She was on her own. Squaring her shoulders as she drove, she smiled. She was up to the task. No more looking back. It was time for Belinda to take charge of her own destiny.

While Connor whistled, she sang along, the clanking and wheezing of the engine adding a staccato counterpoint to their melody. Overall, it was so awful, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let me know when we pass a low stone wall,” he called after they’d been on the road about an hour and a half. “We turn right at the next lane.”

“We’re coming up on a wall now,” she told him. “There’s a pedestal at the corner, with something on the top. A lion, perhaps? No, it’s a dog of some kind.” It was hard to tell since the gray granite statue was so old.

“A Scottish deerhound. My family’s been breeding them for centuries.” He dumped another shovelful of coal in the boiler. “Turn into the lane and keep going, another mile or so.”

“A mile? From the entrance to the house?” She eased the throttle back and made the wide half circle necessary to turn the cumbersome wagon. “Just how wealthy is your family?” The vehicle barely fit between the two stone pillars. Off to the left, she thought she saw a small gatehouse.

“Hell, I don’t know. Rich enough.” He heaped one last shovelful of coal in to the boiler and then came to stand beside her. “Home sweet home. Legend has it that when Camelot fell, Arthur’s Knights spread out over the island, each settling in a different part of Britain, to oversee and protect it. Sir Kay, Arthur’s foster brother, came here and built his tower, not far from the Scottish lowland home of his wife. Hence the name Kay’s Tower. The current castle only dates to the twelfth century but there are traces of the older one in the foundations and the curtain wall. Sir Kay is also the root of the name MacKay.”

“You’re suggesting the legends of King Arthur are real, and that you’re a direct descendant of Sir 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.”