Lancelot of the Pines (Louisiana Knights Book 1) by Jennifer Blake Page A

need to do.”
    Lance didn’t argue. A rising wind was flapping the awning like a sail, making the RV rock with every snap. The grill he’d used and other supplies were still laid out on the picnic table.
    Wind caught the metal door the instant he stepped outside, almost jerking it out of his hand. The gust faded an instant later, but the wind didn’t die down. He moved around the rig, putting things away, checking that all the bins were locked. The cover was fastened on their electric connection, and everything else was secure. The awning only needed to be dipped at one corner so water would run off if it rained. Everything seemed in good shape, which was a relief. He’d have to answer to Trey for any damage to his baby.
    The sky was getting darker by the minute. A high wind stirred the treetops around them into a swaying dance. Gusts hit him at intervals, pressing his borrowed shirt against him, searching out and cooling his heated skin under the fabric. The lake glistened through the trees, its wind-churned waters releasing the smells of mud and fish. Lance stood for a moment, breathing deep, enjoying that smell as it mixed with the scent of the tall, dark green pines that loomed over the camp site.
    Thunder rolled again, and lightning flashed in the distance, far out over the lake. On impulse, he headed in that direction, threading his way through the woods and undergrowth until he reached the water’s edge. The lake reflected the muddy blue-gray sky on its shifting surface, while waves lapped the shore in a steady rhythm. The wind across the water carried a fine mist, so he was damp within seconds.
    Lance didn’t care. The disturbance of the elements satisfied something deep inside him.
    The rain began without warning, a deluge with warm drops the size of quarters. Damp was one thing, soaking wet was another. Lance turned and ran for the shelter of the RV’s awning. It heaved and flapped, rattling in its long bracket as if about to take flight. The storm seemed stronger than he’d first thought, so the awning needed to come down before it could be torn by the wind.
    It was only as he ducked under the treated canvas that he saw Mandy. She stood on the far side, her arms clasped at her waist as if chilled while she stared out at the rain. Her hair lifted, flying around her in the rising wind, and her face was set. She looked forlorn, somehow, and alone. So alone.
    Had she lost sight of him, and maybe come out to find him because she didn’t want to be by herself? No reason existed for him to feel guilty at that possibility, but he did anyway.
    “You okay?” he asked as he moved to stand beside her.
    Her chin came up. “Yes, of course.”
    “Not afraid of storms?”
    “No. I like them, really. Always have.”
    The answer was clear above the drumming rain, but she turned away, presenting a shoulder to him. Maybe she needed a little time to herself, he thought, and almost left her to it. Yet something held him in place.
    He raked his fingers through his wind-tangled hair before clearing his throat. “This situation we have here is weird, I’ll admit. If I was a little hard on you earlier—”
    “Don’t worry, I understand.”
    “You do?” It was the last thing he expected.
    “I’m guilty until proven innocent, or you have to treat me that way. You’re caught halfway between keeping me in protective custody and holding me under house arrest. If I get killed or escape, you’re doomed either way. Does that about cover it?”
    “Checks every box,” he answered in a dust-dry affirmative. She’d failed to mention how he was ordered to keep her safe, yet dared not get too close. But it wasn’t something he cared to point out to her.
    She shook her hair back, but curling, golden brown tendrils clung to her face, stuck in the wet tracks of tears. Seeing them, Lance winced and looked away into the falling rain in his turn. It must be the news about her husband that had upset her.
    “I’m sorry I wasn’t