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past.”
    “I believe it was.” He sobered quickly and quirked up one dark eyebrow. The lamplight cast copper highlights into his dark hair, showing it as auburn rather than black.
    She shrugged and strode to the rear door of the steam-powered caravan, Lucifer at her heels. “My grandfather left it to me. I still don’t see why it’s funny.”
    “We’re sneaking out of town in the brightest, biggest, probably loudest conveyance possible. That doesn’t strike you as amusing?” Still, he craned over her shoulder as she opened the wide door to the stall area at the back of the caravan. “It doesn’t have a calliope attached to the boiler, does it? That would be a bit much.”
    “Perhaps a little.” Who was she fooling? It was ludicrous. “There’s no organ. Put the luggage in here. There’s even straw in the stalls, so we can take old Nick.”
    “Your cat is Lucifer and your mule is Old Nick and the villagers aren’t supposed to think you’re a witch?”
    She winced. “That’s a coincidence. I got Lucifer as a kitten and originally named him Lucinda, and my husband had Nick long before I married him.”
    “Right.” Connor eyed the geriatric mule and looked back at the divided sections in the caravan. “I suppose I can’t say anything, since my favorite stallion is named Mephistopheles. This area is designed for horses?”
    “Lions, actually,” she said. “My grandfather was a lion tamer.”
    “Of course he was.” The burly Scot only laughed. “But my own family tree has some odd nuts, so I can’t turn up my nose. At least with these wide studded wheels, the wagon shouldn’t have any trouble staying on the road, even if the rain gets worse.” Without argument, he loaded her measly possessions while she got Nick and led him into the caravan.
    With the utter nonchalance of any feline, Lucifer hopped in and claimed the smaller stall as his own. Well, if there were mice in the straw, at least he’d be fed.
    They both moved swiftly about their tasks, and just a few moments later Belinda struggled to light the boiler in its small compartment beside the driver’s position.
    “Allow me.” Connor muttered a quick incantation and pointed his finger at the burner valve. The flame ignited instantly. He used another spell to speed up the steam compression, so they’d be able to leave about twenty minutes sooner than normal. She shivered, not sure she’d ever get used to someone who could genuinely cast spells.
    He quirked his eyebrow again. “Complaining?”
    “No.” She was lucky to have him, and she knew it. Most gentleman of his station wouldn’t know a coal shovel from a fire poker.
    Next he lit the lamps, and removed his frock coat. Belinda hung it beside her own cloak in the cabin area.
    “Now, milady, shall we be off? Before the clowns and acrobats catch us up?” He began shoveling coal into the boiler.
    Whoa , lassie . His damp shirt revealed his powerful arms and shoulders, making Belinda’s mouth go dry. For the first time since her husband’s death, she felt something like lust curl through her belly. It had clearly been too long since she’d been with a man. Seven years, part of her brain responded. Why on earth had her body decided to wake up now, when she was running for her very life?
    Despite her desperation to be gone, Belinda laughed at his enthusiasm. “Yes, sir.” She snapped him a salute and moved past the thin partition to the driver’s station. She knew which pedals and levers to use. Grandfather had made sure of that when he’d brought her the caravan a month before his death.
    “I hope to hell the water tanks are full.” Connor’s voice carried over the sound of the boiler and the now working steam engine as she put the big vehicle into gear. With a belch of steam, the caravan crept forward on its massive wheels.
    “They are. I promised my grandfather I’d always keep it ready. Fresh oil once a year, full water tanks once a month. Actually, even the straw is