Cards & Caravans Read Online Free PDF Page B

buildings, and then, as the shops and houses petered out, to the trees and hedgerows that lined the muddy roadway.
    The walk, which would take her fifteen minutes on a normal day, seemed to last forever, though they moved as swiftly as she was able, given her sodden shoes and the blanket dragging in the mud behind her. Sir Connor kept hold of her hand. He hadn’t bothered to put his gloves back on after working the magick on the locks, and his heat radiated all the way up her arm.
    When they reached the farm, she heaved a huge sigh of relief to see the house still standing. “I was afraid they’d have burned me out.”
    “They might,” Sir Connor agreed as he followed her into the parlor. “If there’s anything small you can’t live without, you’d better take it. Damn, I wish my steam car wasn’t being repaired this week. Life would be a lot easier if we had motorized transportation.”
    Belinda stopped in her tracks so suddenly that he crashed into her, the weight of him making her topple at the base of her stairs. Strong hands caught her and steadied her against him, and he held on to her waist. She turned to look up at him but in the darkness, his face was little more than a pale blur. “I do have a conveyance.” She swallowed hard. The idea was ridiculous, but perhaps... “Of a sort.”
    “Oh?” She could hear the grin in his tone and was reminded again of just how young he must be. Surely it was only gratitude at his rescue that made her heart beat faster than it had when they were running.
    “It’s a steam-powered...wagon,” she said. “Under a tarpaulin in the barn. It takes two people to operate—one to drive and the other to shovel coal for the boiler.”
    “Excellent, provided you can drive.” He squeezed her waist with his hands. “Shoveling coal is one of my specialties. Now let’s get you some clean clothes and anything else you can’t replace. I don’t think you can count on coming home to this village, Mrs. Danvers. The Or... I mean the Home Office will do what it can, but if I were you, I wouldn’t want to take a chance on returning.”
    “Right.” She hauled in a breath and stepped back, up onto the first stair. “I’ll need to light a lamp in order to change. Will that be a problem?”
    He shrugged. “If you can close the drapes or blinds, all the better. We don’t want anyone coming to see who’s here.”
    “Right. Upstairs, then.” She fled toward her bedroom, Sir Connor at her heels, and pulled the shutters closed before feeling around for the candle and sparker she kept by the bed.
    “Here.” A small orb of blue light appeared in Sir Connor’s palm, throwing the room into shadows. She gulped at the reminder of his magick, so much more powerful than any piddling gift she might have. “Now light the candle. I can’t maintain this forever.”
    She obeyed, then tugged a carpet bag from under the bed and shoved in the wedding photograph she kept on her bureau and a small portrait of her grandparents. Things that couldn’t be replaced, he’d said. Her few photos were at the top of that list.
    “You should probably change clothes first,” he said calmly. “You need to get dry.”
    She jammed another photograph in along with her small jewelry box and her mother’s silver-handled hairbrush before turning to him. “Fine. While I’m dressing, if you want to be useful, go down to the kitchen and put all the bread, cheese and so on into a hamper. You’ll find one in the closet under the stairs.”
    “As milady wishes.” He bowed, but paused before he left the room. “Do you need any help with your laces?”
    “No.” She lived alone, so she always dressed herself with no help from a maid. Grabbing the patchwork quilt off the bed, she shoved it toward him. “Go on and take this. My grandmother made it. There’s money in the jar in the pantry labeled coffee , if they haven’t stolen it.”
    He accepted the quilt, folding it as he spoke. “Take a change of