“Nay.” As if a greater force spurred him to life, Reginald hurried to a large crate in the far corner of the room. “’Tis no trouble at all. They are right here. Ready for your perusal.” He dragged the crate away to the center of the room. “But let us start with the markers, shall we?”
“Aye,” Lucan agreed.
Motioning them to follow, Reginald crossed to the back of the door they’d entered through. A gnarled finger tapped a deep etching in the stone. A carving that identically matched the unique sword engraved in the le Goix ruins. Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Turn and look beyond you now,” Reginald instructed.
Obediently, Chloe pivoted and discovered Lucan hadn’t followed. Instead, he’d moved to the opposite wall. A torch in hand, he stood with his back pressed to the stone.
“Look above Lucan’s head,” Reginald murmured.
She lifted her gaze to where the bright light flickered on the white lime blocks. Deep shadows filled gaps in the mortar she hadn’t observed before. They stretched to the ceiling in parallel lines spaced exactly a stone’s width apart. Two feet down from the overhead support arch so typical of Templar design, the shadows spanned sideways. Chloe gasped. Her gaze skimmed down the wide length, anxious and hesitant all at once. She didn’t want to look. Couldn’t stop herself.
There, level with Lucan’s head, the shadows soaked into a recessed circular design. She knew that if she moved closer, it too would bear the Eye of Horus. As did the one beneath Reginald’s hand.
“Why?” she exhaled.
Lucan switched hands with the torch, turning the wall behind him into a plain block of stacked stone once more. “Where are you, Chloe? What is the name of this place?” he asked as he fitted the wooden handle back into its empty sconce.
She furrowed her brows, unable to follow his train of thought. “The Templar Chapel.”
“Aye, indeed. And the marks you see identify it as such.” He dusted his hands on his jeans. “They also designate this place as a holding for sacred relics. The same as le Goix.” As he talked, he dragged two chairs to opposite ends of the two-foot-long crate Reginald had moved. “You will find Templar ruins throughout the world. But only those with markers contain the truths of the Church, and no common man will ever bear witness to them.”
He beckoned to her with a lift of his hand. “Come see what was discovered beneath the Temple Mount.”
Chloe’s heart skidded to a stop. Legend after legend claimed to know what the ancient Order found and what they did with their treasure. In a hundred years she never would have guessed she might learn the truth, let alone touch the artifacts. She looked to Lucan, afraid to believe, unable to accept the reality of his claims.
His solemn expression professed unyielding conviction. The light in his eyes, however, spoke to her soul. Laden with meaning, his unblinking stare made it impossible to deny his words. He was giving her this gift. This boon of knowledge that no other person outside of the Church would witness. Entrusting her with secrets that had been guarded for centuries.
The deeper meaning in his gaze penetrated her mind. Trust me, as I trust you.
He dipped his head toward the large crate. “Open the lid, Chloe.”
No request for a promise she wouldn’t reveal what lay inside. No warning that these were the Church’s alone. Just the unfettered offering. Chills coursed down her spine as her heart twisted painfully. How could she doubt a man who gave without restraint? If he meant to usurp her efforts, he wouldn’t bestow this honor on her. She could easily lead someone back here, release whatever sat inside this hide-covered crate to the world, if he did.
But he wouldn’t. In the depths of her heart, she knew Lucan wouldn’t climb over her to attain his own goals. He wasn’t like Blake. He didn’t even come close to resembling that leech.
Chloe reached between them and slipped her fingers into his. Yes, she could trust him. This didn’t explain how he knew so much, or how he happened to discover all these buried secrets. He couldn’t free her from the demons, or conquer that inevitable divide, but she could trust him until the demons forced them apart.
“Show me,” she said with a smile.
He bent over and opened the lid with one hand, revealing several parchment scrolls tied together with a crimson ribbon. “These are testaments and accounts from the days the Almighty walked amongst man. They, and several other items, are scattered in the bellies of Templar holdings.” Gently lifting out the bundle, he offered them to her. “Would you care to read? Master Reginald has left us to spend as much time as we desire.”
She glanced up, surprised the older man had exited so quietly. Sure enough, the chamber was empty, save for the two of them. Curious, she slipped the tip of her finger beneath the scarlet silk and traced the fragile edge of the topmost scroll. Bits of parchment flaked off and crumbled, giving her pause. “I don’t think I want to harm them.”
Lucan shook his head. “They cannot be destroyed.”
With a shaking hand, Chloe pushed a leather tie off one and gently unfurled it. Her breath caught as she scanned ancient handwriting, so precise, so meticulous it was astounding. But to her dismay, the words were unintelligible, a language she couldn’t decipher.
“What language is this? Aramaic?”
Again, Lucan shook his head. “Aramaic is a language of men. These words came before. ’Tis the language of angels, Chloe.”
The language of angels? Chloe blinked. Impossible.
He must have seen doubt pass over her face, for he leaned across the crate and pointed at the bottom of the parchment in her hands. “That one is signed by Gabriel.” He touched one still in the cloth. “This bears Mikhail’s signature.”
How could it be? He was talking fantastic stories, and he wanted her to believe? Just because the name was indeed legible? Not wanting to spoil the afternoon with an argument, she slipped the ribbon back around the illegible document and passed it back to him. “Summarize for me?”
“Aye, if you wish.” He set the scrolls back into the crate and shut the lid. “This particular collection contains accounts of the angels, the Nephilim in specific. Documented incidents where the fallen ones made mates out of mankind. Details about the stripping of their immortality and a recitation of the prophecy that their descendants would rise again when most needed.”
“When most needed? Sounds a bit like Judgment Day.”
He shook his head. “Nay, they are not the same. Those who carry the blood of angels possess power. The ability to overcome evil. Judgment Day is the judging of mankind.”
Chloe frowned at the hidden etching on the wall behind him. “What’s this have to do with that, other than the sword identifies this place as sacred?”
“The Templar discovered these things. Against the will of the Almighty.”
“But why didn’t they reveal them? They must have brought them to the Church, which yielded their immense power, and I suspect their demise as well. But why not share them with the world? Wouldn’t that give them even more power? That would have prevented the Inquisition and the burnings at the stake for heresy.” Her frown deepened as another unsettling question surfaced. “And why keep them hidden now?”
“As I have mentioned before, there are those who would abuse the sacred knowledge. If placed in the wrong hands, ’twould have caused wars and persecution, changing all you know.”
She gave him a doubtful look. No written word could have that much power or influence unless those documents, or others like them, disavowed the existence of Christ. Highly unlikely since the accounts here specifically pertained to the Almighty and his heavenly aides.
Lucan stood. “In time you will understand more. Let us enter the chapel itself.”
Refusing to stand just yet, she stopped his about-face with a pull on his arm. “Wait. Does all this mean the Templar worked for the Church? Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me about the Veronica?”
Pride emanated from his wide smile. “You are very close. The Tem
plar are servants to the Church.”
Are. Her brain locked onto the present tense like neon paint thrown on a white canvas. “Are? Surely you don’t believe the legends that the Templar still exist? That was hundreds of years ago. If they gathered in secret, by now someone would have spilled the beans.”
Lucan’s smile faltered, and a hint of sadness touched his eyes. Or maybe it was disappointment. She couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, he didn’t care for her challenge. As evidenced further by his clipped response. “Let us leave this place, Chloe. We have other things to accomplish before we must return to the château.”
CHAPTER 27
For the second time that day, Chloe fitted her hand into Lucan’s of her own accord. A thrill slithered up her arm as his fingers twined with hers. He held on loosely, but with enough possessiveness in his grip to let her know he welcomed the casual link. Slowing his purposeful stride, he matched her pace and gave her the freedom to admire the masonry inside the nave.
Simple designs held a touch of bold elegance. Like the chamber below, the walls sported unlit torches and the floor bore the same mosaic of dark brown and beige tiles. Plain, but extraordinary at the same time.
“Did you find what you sought?” Master Reginald asked from behind a large desk near the front entry that served as a visitor’s center.
To Chloe’s dismay, Lucan disentangled his hand and left her to admire a life-size statue of a medieval lord alone. He joined Reginald at the dark mahogany desk. Bracing both palms on the polished surface, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. His dark hair tumbled over his shoulder, shielding his face, making her efforts to read his lips pointless.
She grunted inwardly as she realized what she was doing. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping. His business was his. What he discussed with his coworkers, or even his friends, was none of her concern. Still, she couldn’t stop the misplaced annoyance that niggled at the base of her skull. Until now, he’d included her on most everything. No, not most. When they were together, he didn’t exclude her at all. So why now?
Bending her head, she looked out the corner of her eye through her own long locks and watched. The two men exchanged a hushed laugh. Lucan bobbed his head as if he agreed with whatever Reginald had said. Then, he picked up a pen and scribbled something on an open notebook. Reginald’s smile grew to wolfish proportions as he again laughed. Only this time, he looked over Lucan’s shoulder, straight at her.
Busted. Damn.
She sucked in a short breath. Held it. Forced her gaze to her feet. At least it was Reginald, not Lucan, who’d observed her not-so-subtle attempt at spying. She didn’t have to spend the rest of the day with him.
The scrape of wood against the hard floor was too much to resist. She cut her gaze back to Lucan’s broad shoulders in time to see him accept a package and stuff it under his arm. He thrust out a hand, shook with Reginald, and turned around.
Chloe reached out to touch the statue’s face, feigning fascination with the artist’s meticulous representation. Right down to the narrow band of metal around the nobleman’s head, no detail went unobserved. The man’s eyes even held a touch of supernatural life. As if he could see her, as clearly as she saw him.
Lucan’s hand settled on her shoulder, startling her. “I have finished what I came for. Shall we go?”
“That was quick.”
“’Twas just a package.” He thumped the padded envelope beneath his arm. “’Twas left for Caradoc.”
Caradoc? How strange. The château accepted mail. She squinted at Lucan. “Why not send it via mail? Shoot, how would anyone know you were going to be here anyway?” The minute she asked the question, she wanted to kick herself. Someone had known Lucan would be here today. Her too. And Reginald had avoided answering when she’d asked.
“’Tis more expedient when I am already here. ’Twould take another day or two to reach him via post.”
Must be Church business. Or something related to the Veronica. Maybe an edict to pull it out from under her before their carbon dating samples could come back with any solid proof about the cloth.
She winced as the thought crept in. No. Lucan controlled the relic, not Caradoc. If the Church wanted it returned immediately, they’d contact him.
Shoving her doubt aside, she summoned the brightest smile she could muster. “Where are we off to next?”
“The cemetery and the woods beyond.”
Determined not to revert to childish fears about ghosts in the graveyard, Chloe forbade any reaction but the lifting of her eyebrows. In a calm voice that surprised even her, she asked, “And what’s out there?”
His grin teased. “Something you will want to see.”
Before she could stop herself, she gave his bicep a punch. “Jeez, stop with the riddles already. I thought we were going to enjoy ourselves. Yet you keep making me think.”
The playful lift of his lips transformed into a wry smirk. He bent his head toward hers, brushed her hair off her shoulder with his knuckles. “If you would but hurry, you would find I have naught but enjoyment on my mind. Come outside so I may kiss you as I have wanted to all morn.”
That was all it took to turn her legs into jelly and her stomach upside down. She set a palm against his chest to keep from stumbling forward. Damn, what was it about this man that could zap her senses so completely? One honest little confession, and she had visions of making out against the side of the chapel, the cold stone pressed against her back, his warm hands heating her skin.
“Lest,” he murmured, “you have decided such would not be to your enjoyment.”
“Not at all,” Chloe said on an exhale. He was so close. Too close. All she had to do was lean forward …
As if he sensed her train of thought, he closed his hand around hers, lifted it off his chest, and stepped away. Still holding on to her, he led her through the octagonal sanctuary to the entrance to the porch, where Reginald bid them farewell with a lift of his hand. She waved in return, but Lucan’s determined strides didn’t leave time for words. Before she could blink, sunlight poured down on them, and Lucan turned her into his arms.
But instead of the harsh, passionate embrace her mind had conjured, he cupped her chin with his free hand and tipped her gaze to his. He studied her quietly. Then he slowly bent his head and brought his mouth to hers. Chloe closed her eyes.
Time stood still as his lips played against hers. His breath caressed her cheek, lifting her nerve endings until every fiber of her being awakened to his tender assault. He traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, provoking a sigh from deep inside her soul. Oh this was nice. So very nice. But it wasn’t enough. Too much distance spanned between them. She craved the taste of him. Parting her lips, she invited him to take whatever he wanted.
Lucan didn’t hesitate. He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck and greedily accepted her offering. Slow, languorous strokes aroused the budding warmth of desire deep within her womb. The scrape of his short nails against her scalp, the way his fingers dug into her waist, spread pleasant heat through her body until she became oblivious to the chilly breeze that tickled his hair against the side of her face. But his mouth remained gentle, disobeying the insistence in his hands. A combination of contradicting pressure that filled Chloe with unexplainable urgency. She slipped her hands beneath his arms and curled her fingers into his shoulder blades. Rising to her toes, she pressed her breasts against his chest.
Lucan’s hand slid from her waist to the center of her back. He splayed his fingers and held her in place. Their kiss intensified as their shared hunger for one another bubbled free. Light stubble grazed over her chin. His teeth nipped the tender flesh of her lower lip. A sweep of his tongue soothed the pleasant sting. Yes. This was what she wanted. What she needed. To have Lucan let go so she could indulge in abandon. To know he was as susceptible to her as she was to him.
A frustrated cry threatened to erupt as bliss crashed to a sudden halt. Lucan eased the kiss to an agonizing close and br
ushed his thumb over her cheek. His chest heaved in time with hers. “Ah, Chloe, you make me forget myself.”
She resisted the urge to thump a fist into his chest and forced out an unsteady chuckle. Reluctantly, she lowered herself to her heels. She nodded toward the thick trees on her left. “There was something you wanted to show me?”
The corner of Lucan’s mouth quirked with mischief. “Aye, there are many things I wish to show you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “But now is not the time, and here is not the place.”
Her cheeks warmed at the erotic images that took root in her head. She fought to see beyond them, knowing that if she entertained the ideas, she’d only clam up again as she had the night before. Until she could go through with the physical act of sex, she wouldn’t tease him, or herself.
“Show me what it is you wanted me to see. Then I think it’s time for a cup of coffee.” Anything that would put distance between them. Preferably a table amid a large crowd so she couldn’t consider whether it was too cold to drag him behind one of those trees and make this the right time and place.
To her immense relief, Lucan ushered her down the narrow footpath, beyond a short row of cracked and pitted tombstones, to a slight break in the trees where cobbles gave way to loose rocks and hard-packed dirt. Caught up in the wonder of her conflicting emotions, she followed him beneath the overhanging skeleton branches into the dense forest.
The trail vanished at the base of a gnarled old elm. There he turned right and passed behind a clump of overgrown evergreen shrubs. Chloe picked her way through the snow, stepping where he did, to avoid soaking her jeans.
Lucan looked over his shoulder, catching her mid–giant stride. He barked out a laugh, and gave her a shake of his head.
She froze, one foot stretched out twice the length of her normal step, the other twisted awkwardly behind her. “What?”
“Naught.” He made an attempt to swallow his smile, but his mouth refused to obey. His lips twitched, and his eyes danced willfully. “I would not think one who dug in mud and sand would have such a fear of snow.”
Immortal Trust Page 23