Lucas paced the hotel room he’d rented. The beast wanted out. Reading just that first page had sent his blood roiling, stirring the muddy sentiment from six hundred years ago. And the wolf still wanted revenge for the Scottish Inquisition.
Steady. Stay in control. Smith will call. He’d taken a gamble, handing back that first page without reading the rest. But he needed to establish trust if he were going to succeed. And, as much as he tried to ignore the fact, he wanted that dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty to trust him. He had felt her aura brush his and the actual physical contact of taking her hand had sent heat to his groin, but there was something else too. Something he couldn’t quite define.
“Please put this in your strongest safe,” he’d said when he handed the parchment back to Smith. “I can interpret this for you, but you might not believe what I tell you.”
“Is it about the Holy Grail?” Smith asked hesitantly.
“In part.”
“Are you deliberately trying to be mysterious?” Sara asked, “or just trying to scare us into thinking that paper spells Armageddon?”
“There could be some truth to that,” he answered and Sara stared at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. He tried not think of how soft those parted pink lips were or how much he wanted to slide his tongue between them and taste her. Not now.
He had stood with reluctance and nodded toward Smith. “When I finish reading that—if you’ll allow it—I want you to know that I’m telling you the truth. I want you to call those references I gave you and check me out. You need to know I am who I say I am. If the rest of that document says what I think it does, we are going to be in this search together. And for what will come, there must be trust.”
There had been a moment when Smith had narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtful. Then he had nodded.
“How can I be in touch?”
And Lucas had given him the number for the hotel. That had been almost forty-eight hours ago. Patience. References take time.
One of the things Lucas had learned to do when he re-invented himself every sixty or seventy years, was to form a complete identity. In the Dark Ages, no one had really asked. There were so few literate souls. During Arthur’s time, it had been easy to don armor and fight beside the Briton king. His respect for Arthur ran deep. That was a man who understood the power of the hallowed sword. He slept in Avalon. Perhaps Brighid would send him back to the world one day.
The original nine Templars had accepted Lucas into the Brotherhood without many questions either. But then, he had pretty much appeared out of nowhere to stand on the Temple steps, his unusually light hair a target for the Saracens. When he had suggested a place for Godfrey to begin digging and they unearthed the first treasure, they had sensed he was different, perhaps not truly of this world. But they had embraced him and made him the tenth Templar. The secret one. And the secret of his immortality was still protected by the inner circle today.
Technology was a fantastic thing. Gavin had managed to create birth certificates, passports and other legal documents as needed. However, the letters of reference were genuine, for Lucas had carefully cultivated relationships with trustworthy men in established businesses in England and Scotland and France.
His cover was good. All he could do was wait. And try not to think about Sara.
* * * *
“Sara, lovely child. Please come in and sit down and keep an old man like me some company.”
Sara closed the door to Professor MacDonald’s office. He sat in a wheelchair behind a magnificent cherry wood desk that was cluttered with a dozen books and papers strewn everywhere. More books sat in stacks beside him. The professor’s cardigan was mis-buttoned and tufts of white hair stuck out from his head, an indication that he’d been running his fingers through it. Ink stained those frail fingers now as he put down the pen he’d been holding.
“Your housekeeper let me in,” Sara said as she walked around the desk and hugged the old man. “She was just leaving for the day. Where’s Robert?” She hadn’t seen the manservant when she’d come in.
“Oh, he’ll be along,” the professor said with a smile. “You worry too much about me. Now sit and tell me why you’ve come.”
Sara pulled her chair closer and sat down with a mischievous smile. “I have something that I think will make your day.”
His faded blue eyes twinkled. “You’ve already made my day, dear. I never hear from any of my other students.”
Which was a shame, Sara thought as she removed the sheets of paper from her purse. Professor MacDonald had been one of those rare teachers who had infinite patience and took time to personally know who his students were. And his mind was like a huge computer data base of history.
“How would you like to interpret a document written in middle-Gaelic?”
“Aye, it would be givin’ me a fine wee memory of me homeland,” he said with a fake accent.
Sara laughed and tried not to think about the soft rolling brogue that Lucas had spoken with yesterday. The sound of his rich baritone enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth, just as if she were standing in the embrace of his strong arms, pressed against that hard, broad chest. Warm and safe. She shook her head. Why was she thinking safe? He was probably anything but safe.
“Sara?”
The old man’s voice jogged her out of her fantasy. She took a deep breath and handed him the papers. “My boss just bought the original. This is a copy that I’d like for you to interpret if you can.”
He took it from her. “I’ll have to refresh my memory and dig through a couple of language books to do this proper credit.” He adjusted his bifocals and squinted at it. “It appears to be some sort of letter addressed to a Mr. Sinclair, something about a fate accomplished.” He put the copies down. “The script will take some deciphering. Could you give me a couple of days? I know how impatient your employer gets.”
“Don’t worry about him. A Scotsman showed up who just happens to read Gaelic.” Even now, his scent of leather and soap haunted her. “He followed me from London.”
The old man reached over and patted her arm. “You must be more careful, dear. Are you sure his intentions are honorable?”
She rather doubted it. Those mesmerizing amber eyes had lingered on her mouth long enough for her breathing to become shallow and she’d had to fight the urge to suddenly lick her lips. But that wasn’t what the professor meant.
“He seems to be. He’s an archeologist and works for Scotland Yard as a consultant. He provided other documentation. Mr. Smith is checking it out.”
“Ah, good.” Professor MacDonald leaned back looking relieved and then puzzled. “But why do you want me to read this then?”
“I couldn’t not let you read it. Your love of medieval lore is as great as mine.” She looked up as the door opened and Robert popped his head inside to acknowledge that he had arrived. “And for back-up,” Sara said as she stood to leave. “I want to make sure
that Lucas—Mr. Ramsey—is telling us the truth.”
“You don’t trust him, child?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to know that there wasn’t a mistake in translation. He read the first page and reacted a lot more strongly than you just did. And Mr. Smith is sure that the thing will reveal where the Holy Grail is hidden.”
Professor MacDonald raised a furry eyebrow. “Well. This is indeed a fine gift you’ve brought me then. Mystery and perhaps a little magic?”
She started at that, wondering if the professor had ever guessed that she was in the Sisterhood. If the translation proved to be a dire as Mr. Ramsey had made it sound, perhaps her group could do work some white magic with it.
Lucas. She smiled wanly as she let herself, thinking of Professor MacDonald’s question. Trust? It was herself she didn’t trust. Not around Lucas Ramsey.
* * * *
When she returned to Mr. Smith’s mansion early that evening, Adonis was sitting on the settee in the office. Now why had she thought of Lucas Ramsey as a Greek god
?
Nim giggled near her shoulder. “Because he looks like one!”
Sara nearly jumped. Usually she could tell when the faerie was near. This man was addling her brain. No doubt about it and she needed for it to stop. By the Goddess, her knees even felt weak just from being in the same room with him.
“Come in and sit down, Sara!” Mr. Smith was beaming from behind his desk. “I’m delighted to tell you everything checked out with Mr. Ramsey and he’s agreed to help us!”
She could feel those golden eyes studying her even as looked around for a place to sit that wasn’t on the settee. One of the overstuffed easy chairs held an assortment of knives and daggers that her boss had meant to categorize before the document had caught his attention. As shaky as she felt, she wasn’t about to pick up knives that were sharpened on both edges. The other chair was heaped full of open boxes that contained parts to a new computer system. Too heavy and messy to move. Reluctantly she took a step toward the couch.
“I won’t bite. I promise.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and made him look even sexier. His gaze traveled to her bare throat and she could almost hear the unspoken words: “Unless you want me to…”
She felt her face grow warm and tugged at the spaghetti straps of her top, not that it helped. Goddess! What was happening to her? With her uncanny ability to have picked, not one but three, loser relationships in her adult life, she thought she’d become immune to men. Or at least good-looking ones who made promises with their eyes.
She lifted her head. She was an adult and she owned her own business. And, she had just traveled to Europe on her own. In spite of the incident with the car and the pick-pocket, she had successfully returned with the document. Surely she could handle sitting on the same piece of furniture with this man. She plopped down unceremoniously.
“That’s better,” Lucas said in that husky voice that made her think of warm cognac. She wished she had a whole decanter full.
He picked a paper off the coffee table and handed it to her. “My credentials.”
His fingers brushed hers as she took the report and the same electric tingle shot through her, but he appeared not to notice. Fine. Maybe it’s just me. It’s been more than a year… Stop it!! The words on the sheet finally swam into focus.
“Everything seems to be quite in order,” she said and was surprised that her voice didn’t shake. “It will be interesting what your interpretation of the manuscript will be.”
She turned to Mr. Smith. “Professor MacDonald said he probably wouldn’t need more than two days.”
Beside her, she felt Lucas tense and his face changed subtly, its angles sharpening. She blinked. It must have been a trick of the fading sunlight for when she looked again, he looked normal.
“There’s someone else who knows about this?” His voice was curiously flat as though tightly controlled.
“Well, yes. An old college professor of mine who’s a medieval historian.”
“Does anyone else know you’ve given him a copy?”
“No. Why?” She thought briefly of Robert. The copy had been lying on the desk but he hadn’t really come into the room far enough to see it.
Lucas looked over to Mr. Smith. “It’s very important that no one, besides us, is even aware that this work exists.”
“The professor isn’t going to tell anyone!” Sara insisted. Poor man was in a wheelchair and lived alone. Whom would he tell?
He turned to her. “If this document says what I think it will, letting the information get into the wrong hands could mean the destruction of civilization.”
“So you implied before.” Sara was beginning to wonder if the man really was an actor in addition to his other lines of work. “You needn’t make it sound so melo-dramatic.”
Lucas’ eyes darkened and again she had the perception that his face angles sharpened. “I wish ‘twas what I was being. But I am quite serious, lass. Ye doona know what ye are getting into.”
There was the brogue again, thicker this time. She wondered about his ability to fall in and out of it. Looking into his eyes, there was no sign of mirth. They were a pale gold and steady, almost as if he were an animal weighing whether to attack.
Attack? Her imagination was really getting away on her. He was just setting the scene to make this translation thing more intriguing. Still, the fine hair on her arms began to rise.
“Fine, then. Why don’t you start reading the document so we can all find out when the world will collapse?”
“Sarcasm,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I deserved that.” He turned to Mr. Smith. “I’d like to get started reading this evening, if I may.”
A troubled looked swept across Mr. Smith’s face. “I put it in my most secure safe,” he said. “It has a twenty-four hour timer. It won’t be able to be opened until tomorrow morning.”
“Very well.” Lucas stood to leave. “What time should I return?”
“Nine o’clock,” Mr. Smith answered, “and check out of the hotel room. I’ve plenty of guestrooms. If this is as important as you say it is, I’d rather have you here around the clock.”
Lucas considered and then nodded. “That might be a wise choice. Thank you. I doubt that I’ve been followed, but right now, I can’t be too careful.” He glanced at Sara and his tone lightened. “Do you live here too?”
“No!” Sara said startled. “I have an apartment.”
“Perhaps it would be wise of you to stay, too, Sara,” Mr. Smith said.
She saw the little smirk on his face. Her boss loved to play matchmaker. Her latest fiasco had been someone he thought was perfect for her. If one didn’t mind finding out that the bastard was already married, but had conveniently forgotten to mention it.
“No thanks. I have…my plants to look after.”
“Plants?” Lucas arched an eyebrow.
“Yes. Orchids. They take a lot of care.” Too bad her apartment wouldn’t allow pets. That would have sounded a whole lot more convincing.
“I see,” he said gravely. “Plants can be demanding.”
So now he was being sarcastic. Well, better that than sleeping just down the hall from him. As if she’d sleep, thinking about him lying naked, draped with only a thin sheet over what was probably a shaft of memorable size. How would it feel opening her legs to him, having him stretch her…
Stop this. Haven’t you learned your lesson?
Putting space and distance between her and Lucas Ramsey was the best thing she could do. By the Goddess, she needed time to think.
Chapter Three
When Lucas arrived at the mansion the next morning, a rental car was parked in the driveway. Frowning, he knocked on the door wondering if there was another guest. Sara had driven away last night in Mustang convertible.
The frown left his face when he thought of her. It had been centuries since a woman had actually elicited electric-like sparks from him. He was pretty sure she felt them too, and for some reason, was resisting the chemistry.
Perhaps it was just as well. When he had teased her about not biting, the wolf had growled and the thought of nuzzling and nipping her bare throat had stirred deep desire. He couldn’t help holding her gaze until she parted her lips and the tip of her tongue almost emerged. How he wanted to capture that tip while his mouth captured hers in a soul-searing deep kiss. But he also knew that when he took a woman, he must remain somewhat distracted to control the beast. Giving in to raw emotion was dangerous and he had a feeling that was the way it would be with Sara. A sudden image of her nude, legs spread wide to receive him, arching her back to take more, writhing beneath him in unbridled passion made him hard instantly. He forced the picture aside even as the wolf stirred from slumber. He couldn’t take the chance on hurting her.
Twice last night the beast had tried to break through. Once, he thought she had might have noticed for she looked startled. He simply had to concentrate on the manuscript. Stay focused.
But something about her called to him o
n an otherworldly level. He wondered if Sara were aware of the dormant power she possessed. And the faerie…he hadn’t seen Nimue since she’d bested Merlin in a battle of wits that left him imprisoned in a tree. Arthur had had a devil of time convincing her that enough was enough.
The door opened, jarring him out of this thoughts. The butler inclined his head slightly. “Mr. Smith has been expecting you.”
He made it sound as though Lucas were late, which he knew he wasn’t. He resisted looking at his watch to check. He had visited in far too many homes where butlers and seneschals tried to be intimidating.
“I’ll take your bag, Sir. Mr. Smith is in the study.”
He could hear voices as he approached the room. Male voices, not Sara’s. He sighed, wondering how long this guest would be staying. There could be no looking at the manuscript until he left.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Ramsey!” Mr. Smith turned away from the sword wall that he was showing his guest. “It seems that my collection of things has suddenly become more public than I thought. Mr. Caldwell, here, is interested in doing an article on my medieval weapons. And he’s from England too. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
It certainly is. His cross burned against his chest in warning, yet his lupine senses could detect no magic from this man. Caldwell was almost as tall as Lucas, but more stockily built. He had the thick neck and bulky shoulders of an American football player and reminded Lucas somewhat of an army tank.
The man held out his hand. “Al Caldwell,” he said cordially, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Lucas shook hands and the fine hairs at the back of his neck began to bristle. This man was not whom he seemed to be. Before he could hone in on what he didn’t like, he heard Sara arrive.
“Mr. Ramsey, did you rent a—” She stopped as she saw Caldwell.
“The car is mine,” he said with a disarming smile and stepped forward to take her hand. “You must be the lovely assistant Mr. Smith told me about. I can’t believe my good luck in having access to these weapons and a beautiful woman to work with.” He bent low and brought her fingers to his lips.
The Immortals I_Lucas Page 4