Lancelot of the Pines (Louisiana Knights Book 1) Read Free Page B

mothers had all been friends and enjoyed acting as maidens in the fair together, especially, as well as southern belles in the pageant. When two of the girls married Benedict brothers, Beau’s mother became their sister-in-law, being a Benedict herself.
    By chance the three friends became pregnant at the same time and discovered they would all have boys. The moms-to-be decided to name their sons for knights of old, in honor of their time as fair maidens. Lance became Lancelot Anthony, Beau was Robert Galahad Beauregard, and Trey was Tristan Thomas. As Beau’s mom never married, all three boys carried the Benedict name.
    With monikers like that, it was only natural they banded together from kindergarten to fight off the jokesters and bullies. That they’d become a force to protect others kids who were being bullied was just one of those things.
    But it was their high school English teacher who put the icing on the cake. Fond of fluttery blouses and poetry, unmarried at forty, she was also director of the school play presented every year. To cast the three of them as knights of King Arthur’s court in an amateur production of the Lerner and Loewe musical, Camelot, had been her masterstroke. Knights they had been ever since. And Lance sometimes thought they were doomed to live up to the title.
    He looked up as Trey rejoined him with his fresh coffee. “Ever see Miss Grantly?”
    “Saw her a couple of weeks ago at the grocery store.” Trey shook his head, though with a reminiscent smile. “She patted my cheek and said I’d always be her ‘veray parfit, gentil’ knight.”
    “I thought that was me,” Lance said in mock protest.
    “And you will be the next time she sees you.” Trey went on after a second. “So what are you going to do with yourself while on leave? Go fishing? Take up golf?”
    “Not likely. I have this special assignment that may be a problem.”
    “In spite of—”
    “Yeah, in spite of putting a bullet in our star quarterback.”
    “Don’t beat yourself up about that too much, no matter what I said earlier. I heard Jackson’s been pouring down the beer like it was water lately. He was drunk as a skunk when he was in here this past weekend, picking fights, being a real jerk.”
    Lance nodded. “You have to feel for him, though. His old man has been on his back since he was a kid, shoving him to become NFL material, bragging about how he’ll retire on the millions his boy’s bound to make.”
    “Word is he’s foaming at the mouth now,” Trey said with a straight look. “He swears he’ll get you for ending his son’s brilliant career.”
    “I don’t think Jackson was on board with all that. As much as I hate saying it, I think maybe he wanted to be shot.”
    “Afraid he couldn’t measure up?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Guess he won’t have to, now.” Trey, holding his hot coffee cup by the top edge, gave it a couple of turns. “Meanwhile. About this assignment?”
    Lance kept his voice low as he gave him the details. It never occurred to him to hold back. He’d trust Trey with his life, had no fear he’d endanger Amanda Caret by running off his mouth. Talking to his cousin was almost like talking to himself.
    “A babe, is she?” Trey asked when Lance fell silent.
    “What makes you say that?” She was a little more than that, but he was trying hard not to dwell on how young and tender she looked, or the wary courage in her eyes.
    “I can’t remember the last time you were so focused on a tail—I mean to say,” he went on hurriedly as Lance’s chin came up, “on a perp you’re supposed to be tailing.”
    “She’s my only responsibility now.”
    “Yeah, right.” Trey’s night-black eyes narrowed in concentration. “This problem of yours, then, is getting close to her without drawing attention?”
    “And without having authority of any kind.”
    “You can’t run ordinary surveillance, can’t stake out her house on that quiet street, even in an unmarked.