No matter how Lucan fought the notion.
“Damn it, Chloe, get on with it,” Julian snapped. “We’re all here. Open the trunk.”
The shift of Caradoc’s hand gave her pause. She followed the motion, observing as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of a sword. Chloe blinked. Who wore a sword in public? And where had he gotten it—she hadn’t noticed it before.
As if he sensed her questions, Caradoc gave her a warm smile. “Proceed, if you will?”
“Yeah.” Weird. Just … weird.
She took a deep breath and reached for the lid. Digging her nails into the thin seam between lid and body, she pulled.
The top held fast.
“’Tis locked,” Lucan murmured.
Chloe tried again, annoyed he’d made the observation first. When the lid refused to budge more than a fraction of an inch, she gestured at the metal rack of shelves. “Chris, see if you can find the ice pick in there. Maybe we can jimmy this lock.”
While he rummaged, her heartbeat accelerated. She squirmed in her chair, anxiety possessing her as well. Beside her, Lucan chuckled. He dropped his hand beneath the table and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. Warmth tingled up her leg. She shifted, expecting him to move that hand and relieve her of the pleasant discomfort. Instead, his palm rested heavy and unmoving, a blessed torment that made concentrating on the ice pick Chris passed across the table, and inserting it into the tiny keyhole, exceedingly difficult.
Lock picking had never been her forte. On one or two occasions she’d had to fiddle around with a pick until rusted old mechanisms broke free. But all of those events included a simple lever type of lock where all she had to do was press the bottom up or down to release the weight. In the reliquary’s case, however, the designer made the mechanism more complex. She fumbled around inside the keyhole, scraping the ice pick’s point against aged metal, accomplishing nothing.
As frustration set in, Lucan’s hand left her thigh to close over hers. He stood up, bent around her, and enveloped her with his body. His chest molded into her back. His arms framed her shoulders. And his cheek tucked so close to the side of her face she could feel his warmth. Her gaze shifted as he turned her wrist, and she glanced sideways at high cheekbones, the touch of dark stubble that told her he hadn’t shaved that morning. Damn, oh, damn. If she turned her head a fraction … If he did the same …
She swallowed hard and jerked her eyes away from the handsome outline of high cheekbones, long eyelashes, and tender lips she remembered all too well.
The lock gave with a faint click. Lucan straightened, taking the heavenly feel of his body with him. He released her hand, took the ice pick from her fingers, and passed it back to Chris.
A whole new sense of anticipation launched through Chloe. For a fleeting moment she forgot the way Lucan turned her mind into a pretzel. She reached for the gilt lid and lifted.
The ageless scent of earth escaped into the air. Hesitantly she pushed out of her chair, bending over to peer inside, as did all the other heads that gathered close. Nestled in the bottom, a length of delicate, yellowed muslin lay in a neatly folded square. Chloe’s breath came out in a hard rush. The Veronica. Chills rippled down her spine.
“Let me see that.” Julian’s bare hand shot beneath her nose.
She slapped his wrist aside with more venom than she’d meant and drove his hand into the hard silver and gold edge. He drew back with a muffled oath. His scowl wielded daggers.
“What the hell?” she cried. “Damn it, Julian, you could transfer contact DNA without gloves. Where has your freaking brain gone? God, it’s like this thing has possessed you.” She drew in a deep breath and with more calm, motioned Andy and his camera close. “Get a few pictures of this. There’s something weighing down the cloth—see it? Before we disturb it, I want it documented.”
Dutifully he clicked away while she pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves. When he stepped back, indicating he’d finished, she dipped her hand inside and removed the chunk of metal atop the fabric. Her throat closed as she stared at the heavy bit in her palm.
Just like the medallion Lucan’s dark gray shirt hid from view, this one bore the same engraving. The same Milites Templi above and below the cross’s vertical beam. She looked to him, met the knowing in his steel-gray eyes. Unable to digest the meaning in front of her brother and her students, she set the coin-size medal aside. As she reached in once more, her gaze briefly touched with Caradoc’s. There too, she recognized the same shared secret that reflected in Lucan’s eyes.
While Chris laid a protective covering across the table, Chloe forced her brain to let go of the questions that leapt to life and reached into the reliquary for the cloth. Gingerly she unfolded it. Spread it on the covered table. Andy moved in to snap more photographs. The crowd gathered closer.
Chloe’s fingers traced the brown stains embedded into the material. She knew what she touched. But the magnificence mystified her.
“What do you think it is, boss?” Kevin asked quietly.
Chloe looked up. Her students’ expressions shone with curious intrigue. Julian’s eyes gleamed, the age of the material not lost on him. But Lucan and Caradoc stood at ease. Only mild interest touched the corners of their eyes. Where everyone else stared at the fabric, the two representatives of the Church watched the people.
In that instant Chloe realized she, Lucan, and Caradoc were the only people who knew what lay beneath her fingertips. The discovery hit her with so much force she shivered. On its heels came the startling knowledge Lucan and Caradoc remained silent, though they were perfectly able to answer Kevin’s question.
Lucan’s question echoed in her mind—Will you trust I shall reveal the cloth when the time is appropriate? The same inquiry resided in his silent stare now.
Trust, no. But she would wait for solid evidence that her team could put together and reach the conclusion. She shook her head at Kevin. “The only way to know is to begin by dating it. If we establish what period it came from, we’ll have a starting place.” She nodded at the metal drawers. “Chris hand me a razor blade. I’ll try to separate a few fibers out of this frayed corner. We’ll ship it off to the lab.”
“Let me see it, Chloe,” Julian urged.
Lucan placed his hand on the cloth and leaned his weight into his arm. “Our scientist shall handle the carbon dating.”
Chloe blinked at him. Do what? Their eyes clashed. In that instant, every last ounce of shaky trust Chloe had given him shattered. “This is my discovery. I’ll have my normal lab date it. Get your bare hand off before you damage it.”
With a firm shake of his head that left no room for argument, Lucan gently nudged her out of the way and folded the cloth. Depositing it back into the trunk he answered, “Nay. ’Tis the Church’s property. ’Twill be dated by our representatives.” He closed the gold lid.
Chloe shot out of her seat, knocking the stool over backward. “That wasn’t part of the agreement! You’re supposed to observe. Verify we follow protocol and take whatever we discover as rightfully belonging to the Church back to the Vatican. At no time did the letters I received mention you could take things away before we discovered what they were!”
Undaunted, Lucan passed the reliquary to Caradoc. He looked to her, firm warning etched into the tight lines of his face. “Then you were misinformed. I will not argue this with you. The relic returns with us.”
She opened her mouth to spill the numerous curses and insults that rose in her throat. But before she could spout a single one of them, Lucan and Caradoc stalked out the door, leaving her no option but to clench her hands at her sides and bite back a frustrated scream.
CHAPTER 14
Chloe clamped her teeth together and drew in a deep breath. Embarrassed in front of her students. Damn Lucan. The least he could have done was called her aside. He had to have known she’d want to date what was inside the reliquary—why hadn’t he warned her privately he intended to have the Church’s specialists date the damn thing?
She grabbed for her composure to keep from chasing after him and creating a greater scene. The stunt in front of her team already defied all the lessons she’d tried to instill in her students about the politics of archaeology and how to approach stubborn officials who tried to impede progress.
“Tim, would you oversee the closing of the site? Make sure we have everything inside—the shovels, whatever you all used. Andy, head on back and start downloading those photographs. I want to send them over to Cambridge and see if Dr. Hildenbrough has any thoughts.”
Her students shuffled to life, grabbing coats and mufflers before filing out the door.
Chloe sank onto her stool and drummed her nails on the table. “Stupid jerk. I can’t believe he just did that.”
“Welcome to the Church.” Julian snorted. “I told you he was in this for his own means.”
Frowning, Chloe ignored his self-satisfied smirk. “He could have warned me. But in front of the team? Good God, Julian, who does that kind of stuff? That’s completely unprofessional.”
“Oh, come off it, sis. What else do you expect from an organization that’s kept the truth from humanity for thousands of years? You think he doesn’t know what it is?” He slapped his hand on the table. “I’ll guaran-damn-tee he knows exactly what it is, and they don’t want you finding out.”
Stiffening, she gave him a sideways glance. That didn’t make sense. Lucan had already told her what it was. “Why would you think that?”
Julian gave her a dumbfounded look. “Wake up, Chloe! He didn’t give a shit about anything in those boxes that you showed him. But the minute you started talking about dating the cloth, he shut you down. If you think he has any intention of sharing what he might find out with you, your head’s in the clouds. I doubt he has any intention of having the thing dated.” He leaned back on the stool and rested an elbow on the counter behind him. “He’ll probably leave with the damn thing tonight. We won’t see him again. Mark my words that box is what they came here for. He knew you’d find it. They got what they wanted, used your efforts to do so, and they, along with the box, will disappear for another couple hundred years.”
A sickening feeling crept through her veins. What if Julian was right? She hardly knew Lucan. And he had known what she would find. He’d predicted she’d uncover it the very day they did. She’d played right into his hands. Fallen victim to his pretty words and damn near handed the relic over to him without a single protest.
“He does know things,” she murmured.
Julian’s boots hit the floor like lead. “What has he told you?”
She should tell him. Her brother had worked at her side, struggled financially along with her, and devoted himself to their shared careers. If anyone deserved to know what Lucan had disclosed, it was Julian.
At the same time, she couldn’t forget Lucan’s promise to do everything he could to bring the relic to the public. The pleading nature behind his eyes that begged for her trust. He’d seemed so sincere. Why would he go to such lengths just to lie?
And he’d told her far more than he should have if he wanted her to stay in the dark. He’d taken her into confidence. Not Julian. Not anyone else on the team. Her.
She shook her head, unable to bring herself to tell Julian about the Veronica. “Nothing about the relic. But I showed him the picture of that glyph in Egypt.”
Julian leaned forward with interest. His eyes shone dark, the same creepy way they had when he’d barged into her room. “What did he say?”
The nagging feeling something wasn’t right forced her off her stool. Julian only ever laughed about the glyph. Not once in the last eight years had he entertained a conversation about what had happened to her in that ancient tomb. She moved to the other side of the table, putting it between her brother and herself. “Nothing exactly. But I could tell by his body language he’s seen it. He asked a bunch of questions.”
“And you told him?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.” No, they hadn’t gotten much further than that. They’d gone back to the Veronica, then she’d kissed him silly.
“I wouldn’t advise doing so.”
All the years of suffering his ridicule came out with one sharp question. “Why? Because he might laugh at me?” She let out a soft, derisive snort. “That wouldn’t make him much different than you, would it?”
“I’m nothing like he is.”
That was true. No two men could be more different.
* * *
From the SUV’s passenger seat, Lucan stared at the trailer’s front door, waiting for Chloe to exit. His hand kept nervous time on his knee as the minutes drew out. He had embarrassed her, and he was not fool enough to believe there would not be hell to pay for his heavy-handed tactic. But naught would have made him allow Julian to touch the cloth. He was too eager. Too … interested. And the way his eyes gleamed when he looked upon the fragile fabric made great horns of alarm blare in Lucan’s head.
“Tell her,” Caradoc urged from behind the driver’s wheel. “Tell her what she is and be done with it. You two may resolve your differences in the Temple.”
Lucan shook his head. “Nay,” he murmured.
“You take risks you should not, brother. She is safe within the Temple walls. Naught can harm her whilst you work to obtain her oath.”
“She is the risk,” he confessed with a heavy sigh. “Have you not noticed the constant presence of Azazel’s minions? They follow her.”
More quietly, Caradoc responded, “Then you were wise to take the reliquary from her.”
“I took it from Julian. She has held possession of the Veronica for a full day. If the demons sought to take it from her, they would have already done so. ’Tis the why, in the fact they have not, that concerns me.”
His brother twisted in the seat, his frown deep and dark. “You think Azazel has seduced her?”
Lucan expelled a harsh breath. “I do not know. But she has been given Saladin’s glyph of unholy passage. I thought never to see it again, and she produced it from her notes. With the demons so close, and their refusal to take the Veil, I cannot help but wonder.”
“’Tis only one way to discover the truth, brother. Ask.” He gestured at Lucan’s chest. “You have shown her your medallion. I saw the recognition pass across her face. You have entrusted her with secrets—tell her all of them. Allow her to explain.”
’Twas a concept easy for Caradoc, who did not suffer the taint of suspicion. He could not fathom the difficulties Lucan struggled to overcome. Whatever Chloe might explain, his mind would turn in circles until he could not logic between truth, possibility, and lie. He sighed again. “’Tis too easy for her to create a plausible fiction. I lack the judgment, Caradoc.”
Understanding filled his brother’s quiet stare. He acknowledged the inescapable truth with a slow nod. “You must build trust. Begin on common ground. Give her absolute faith on one small thing, and you shall earn her secrets.”
Something in common—Lucan nearly laughed aloud. The only interest they shared was the Veronica. And yet he could no more turn it over to her for safekeeping than he could bring himself to give her the seraphs’ torc.
His thoughts skidded to a halt as another idea surfaced. The Veronica could work to his advantage. He didn’t need to give it to her. Just a small piece would work. He kicked open his door and jumped out into the snow. “I will see you at the château.” As an afterthought, he tossed his room key onto the leather seat. “Put the reliquary in my safe. The code is the same as the Temple gates. Come back in an hour.”
He slammed the door and bounded up the trailer’s steps. As he reached for the handle, the door swung open. Julian stormed out, nearly colliding into Lucan’s chest. He shouldered past Lucan with an indistinguishable mutter and stalked toward the students gathered at the excavation site.
Lucan let himself in, absorbing the heavy tension in the long room. Brother and sister had argued. About what? The relic? He looked to Chloe and stiffened beneath her icy
glare.
“Get out,” she instructed calmly. “This is my trailer, and I don’t want you in it.”
“Nay, I shall not.” He reached behind him and locked the door. Slowly, deliberately, he took off his coat and laid it over the back of a nearby chair. “I did not come back to fight with you.”
“No? Just what exactly did you expect? I’d welcome you with joy? For God’s sake, Lucan, you made me look like an idiot!”
Crossing the room, he reached for her hands. When she pulled them away, he grabbed again, and succeeded in capturing her wrists. “I am sorry for the way I handled something necessary. But I came back inside to offer a compromise.”
She threw her shoulders to the side, jerking hard for her freedom. He held fast, determined her anger would not divide them further. They had made progress this morning. He would not have that so easily reversed. “Chloe,” he said more softly. “Cease. Listen to what I have to say.”
“I don’t care what you have to say. That’s my discovery, and I’m not going to have you waltz off with it. I’ve dug through frozen ground, dodged snowstorms, and nearly froze my fingers off for two months! I deserve to know the truth behind that cloth.”
“Aye, you do.”
Her slow blink said she had not expected him to agree. She ceased struggling and squinted with mistrust. “Then why are you trying to stop me from finding it out?”
“I am not.” Lucan used steady pressure on her wrists to guide her to the stool and urge her to sit. When she plopped onto the vinyl seat, he released her wrists in favor of her shoulders. “I will tell you whatever you wish to know about the Veronica. You need but ask. Meanwhile, you will have your sample to send to your laboratory. We will collect it together.”
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