Read Stranger in Camelot for Free Online Page A

kid.”
    “What kind of work did you do?”
    She broke her stride long enough to give him a small curtsy before going on. “I was Meg for three years on The Jones Family and Sally for five years on Pop’s World . These weren’t classics. Every TV critic in the country made fun of them, but they were hits.”
    “Critics have no taste.”
    “Oh, in this case, they were right.” She clasped her chest dramatically. “But my real claim to fame was commercials. Even my baby behind was captured on film for all time. I was the Sweetheart Shampoo baby.” She made her voice wicked. “I was a show-off at an early age.”
    “You’re making it all sound too easy. It takes talent to be that successful.”
    “No, it takes having the right ‘look’ and very greedy parents.”
    Before he could ask for more on that subject, she trotted off the path and into the pasture, then put two fingers in her mouth and gave an ear-piercing whistle. She called to John, “We’ll either get horses or taxis!”
    He walked through the tall grass toward her, smiling. The morning sunshine backlit him with golden light, playing beautifully on the olive tone of his skin. There must be an exotic-looking Moor or two in his ancestry, Aggie thought, groaning silently at such whimsy. A Moorish ancestor. Right. Only about seven centuries ago.
    She’d been doing too much research on medieval history. Her mind wouldn’t let go of it. Of Sir Miles of Norcross. Of John Bartholomew. They were tangled in her thoughts.
    “Show me how you do that,” he ordered, stopping in front of her. “That whistle could call spirits from their sleep. Or at least give them an earache.”
    Call spirits from their sleep . Why did he always say things that unnerved her? It was uncanny because of her ridiculous, overstimulated imagination.
    “Like this. Make a circle, and leave a little space between your thumb and forefinger. Put them between your lips and clamp down.” She showed him. “Pwull tight and bwow.”
    He tucked his chin and leaned forward, studying her lips intently. “I beg your pardon? What?”
    Aggie’s stomach tingled. She felt silly, but more than that she felt reckless. Suddenly she was aware of the undercurrent of arousal in her body, the sensitivity of her breasts, the delicious pressure deep in her belly, the tenderness of her lips as she scrubbed a finger across them.
    “Pull tight and blow,” she repeated, her breath short. She put her finger and thumb back into her mouth, turned her head, and demonstrated. The whistle was an airy, weak imitation of the first one. “Damn.”
    “Problems?” he inquired.
    “Temporary loss of air pressure. You try.” She touched her lips, showing him the exact placement.
    His dark brows raised in watchful study, he copied her. His fingertips were large and the skin coarse-looking, the kind that could tantalize a woman’s skin. He rubbed his thumb and finger over the cleft in his lips. “Right here?”
    “Put them inside.”
    “Here?”
    “That’s fantastic … fine. That’s fine.”
    “I doubt I have your sense of touch. Too much thick skin.”
    “That’s what happens when you work with airplane glue all the time, I guess.
    “Blow,” she instructed shakily. “Go ahead.”
    He turned his head and made a loud but inarticulate sound. Grinning, he faced her again. “I sound like an air hose with a kink in it.”
    “Your pucker’s all wrong. You need practice.”
    “Are you saying that my lips are out of condition?”
    “Oh, I’m sure they get plenty of exercise. Maybe the wrong kind, though.”
    “You’ll have to be specific. I’m confused.”
    “Uh-huh. I can see how confused you are.”
    “Could you mean this sort of exercise?” He stepped closer and angled his head downward, so that hismouth was near hers. His voice dropped to a throaty tease. “The kind where sincerity is more important than skill?”
    Some devilish impulse took control of her voice. “You’ll have to be more