Luc laughed, apparently reading her thoughts, and scooped her easily into his arms.
A small squeak of alarm came from her mouth as she quickly wrapped one arm around his neck, the other still clutching the Happy Meal box. “I’m too heavy for you,” she protested weakly.
He chuckled and pretended to sway beneath her weight. But then he turned and headed toward shore, one arm under her legs, the other circling her shoulders. Sylvie didn’t even want to think about how good he felt and how secure she felt.
“Don’t you be worryin’ none, darlin’. You’re the perfect size for me.” He grinned. “To carry, that is.”
“I am not perfect,” she said, without thinking. Her eyes were fixed on the water, where she could swear she saw a black snake slither by, or was it just a long weed?
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who thinks thin is in, Sylv. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know what really pisses me off? When a skinny female says, ‘I forgot to eat today.’ I mean, I’ve forgotten to mail a letter, or put the toilet seat down. But you gotta be some kind of a dumb twit to forget to eat, right?”
She had to smile at Luc’s sweet effort to distract her from the water. In fact, they were already on dry ground, and still he held her in his arms.
“Well?” he said, grinning down at her.
“Well what?”
“Don’t I deserve a reward for being your Cajun Knight?”
She shook her head at his foolishness. At the same time, her heart tugged at the vulnerable look in his eyes. Surely, the crude, rude lout didn’t care what she thought of him.
“Brave knights rescue fair damsels without thought of recompense. It’s known as chivalry,” she informed him with mock seriousness.
“Dumb knights,” he concluded, setting her on her feet. But then he surprised her by giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “Cajun knights are different from other knights. We believe in giving a little lagniappe with our chivalry.”
“You are impossible,” she said. “Since when are kisses an act of chivalry?.”
“New rules,” he declared, and turned away from her to go back into the water and help his brother unload.
“Well, those rules had better not include anything else,” she called to his back.
At first, she didn’t think he’d heard her, but then she heard him remark to Remy, “Some women don’t know when to pull up the drawbridge.”
“Yeah,” Remy agreed, hefting a huge duffle-style bag over his shoulder, “a lot of moats are in danger when we Knights of the Bayou start updating the rules.” Remy and Luc both glanced at her on the shore, where she stood with one hand braced on a hip, and then they both winked at her.
They were right. A lot of “moats” were in danger when these two rogues were in the vicinity. And the funny thing was, the more she was around Remy, the less she noticed his disfigured face. Even more funny, and alarming, was the fact that the more she was around Luc, the less she noticed his boorishness. Dangerous business, that. Surely, a clear and present danger to… well, moats.
Sylvie turned to take in her new surroundings. A raised Cajun-style cabin of ancient vintage stood about twenty feet back from the water’s edge. It had been built on stilts to withstand the many floods that assaulted it over the years. That meant the main living quarters were on the second floor, and a roofed veranda and storage rooms were on ground level.
Despite its age and weathered, unpainted logs, it was a lovely, well-kept structure. Wide steps led up the center to a porch where a swing and two sturdy, hand-built rocking chairs could be seen. The windows were shuttered, but there were two large ones in front and another smaller one above where a loft must be located, indicating that the interior would be light and airy. A wide hammock was strung between two tupelo-gum trees on one side of the dwelling… a homey indication that this was not just a fishing camp but a place of rest and relaxation for its owner.