Immortal Trust (3 page)

She ignored the chill that inched down her spine. “I’ve been doing paperwork all day. I’m used to working alone.” Just not at night. Never at night.

A slight frown pulled at Lucan’s brow. “Do you have much work remaining?”

“Oh, not much.” She gestured at the open record book on her desk. “I need to transfer notes on three more artifacts into the computer. Then I’ll head on back.” Forcing brevity, she laughed. “Just me and the trees. The quiet’s nice.”

The tight downturn to Lucan’s mouth evidenced his disbelief. He twisted to address Caradoc. “Go on. I will stay with her.”

“No!” Chloe blurted out. Lord no, not alone with him. She’d take the presence in the darkness over ten minutes alone with him. He posed a far greater risk. “I mean, thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’ve been here for a full month. I’m quite capable of locking up on my own. Rest assured, I won’t be fiddling with anything that would interest you.”

Lucan eased out of his coat and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. “’Tis not the Church’s interest that concerns me, milady, but your safety.” Leather creaked as he sat down.

“Till morn then,” Gareth chimed, his eagerness to be free of the trailer evident. He exited swiftly.

Caradoc clamped his hand on Lucan’s shoulder in a brotherly gesture of support. “I shall inform Merrick we have arrived.”

To Chloe’s horror, he too vanished out the door. Unable to look at Lucan, she stared at her blank laptop screen. “Maybe work can wait until tomorrow.”

Her feeble excuse met a wall of determination. “Nay. Do what you must. I will…” Trailing off, he glanced around the trailer. On spying Chloe’s coveted, specially shipped from Tucson, latest edition of
Cosmopolitan,
he picked up the magazine and scanned the cover. A smirk drifted across his sensual mouth. “I will learn how to turn a weekend getaway into an erotic paradise.”

Sheer mortification scalded her face. With a fierce push, she swiveled her chair around so she wouldn’t have to look at him and pressed the button to bring her laptop out of sleep mode. Torture. Not only did the Church seek to insult her ethics by demanding she cease excavation until their representatives arrived to oversee her work, they sought to torture her with a man who could define
erotic paradise.

CHAPTER 2

Lucan looked over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read. Chloe Broussard was far more fascinating than the glossy advertisements. Not to mention, perusing an article that detailed the many benefits of breakfast abed with a willing partner, whilst Chloe sat across from him, made the small confines uncomfortably warm.

Feed your partner berries to kick off your day of hedonistic pleasure.

As Chloe chewed on the end of her pen, a vision of her lips closing around his fingers burst to life in his mind. He scowled at the unbidden intrusion. Damnation, he had not expected
she who digs in dust
to be so delightfully feminine.

He studied the delicate lines of her profile. Long lashes that he could make out even across the distance separating them dusted high, regal cheekbones. A smooth jawline tapered to a chin that would fit neatly atop two of his fingers. Full lips promised softness. All features designed to torment a man. Her nose, however, made him chuckle inwardly. Or rather, the slightly crooked way it sat between her eyebrows. He found the flaw endearing. A perfect imperfection designed to remind him that though her veins ran with the blood of angels, she was still an earthly human.

Her lashes drooped for the second time. As they lingered on her cheeks, her chin dipped with exhaustion. She jerked upright, scrubbed at her eyes, and squinted at the screen.

“Chloe, how long have you been here today?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?” She blinked, then regained her composure and pushed aside her momentary surprise. “Here? I come in around five every morning.”

Lucan frowned. “’Tis almost fourteen hours of work. You should rest.”

Her soft chuckle floated over the whistling wind. “I have four months to excavate that feudal castle before my special license expires. I lost most of January to the weather. February isn’t much better. If I take time to rest, we’ll miss out on key findings.”

She would not see the completion of her four months. Once she uncovered the Veronica, her life would change forever. But Lucan kept that knowledge to himself. Soon enough he would have to tell her. Presently, however, she faced little danger. He fell silent as her short nails clicked across the keys, her dedication to her work a trait he found immeasurably appealing. Few mortals he knew would put in such time when they could have easily sloughed off with good excuses.

What would she say when he informed her of her seraph’s status? Would she, like the others, disavow her fate? A frown returned to tighten his brow. Nay, she might resist, but he would not force her circumstance upon her as Merrick and Farran had done. Would not force
himself
upon her. ’Twas a reason good manners existed, and he would court her as she deserved. Solicit her affections afore she learned her fate and the greater duty required. As long as Azazel’s minions did not force him into conflict and fill his soul with more evil, he possessed time to wait.

A rattle at the window lifted the hairs along his forearms. He stiffened as the certain scent of death met his nose. ’Twas faint, little more than the odor of a rotting mouse beneath the floor planks, yet present all the same. The wind buffeted the tiny window behind him, and the foul aroma of decay intensified. With it came an overwhelming awareness of a hate-filled presence.

Mayhap he did not possess as much time as he believed.

Centuries of combating Azazel’s dark creations triggered his warrior’s instincts. Reflexively, he dropped his hand to his hip to grasp his holy sword. His fingers, however, closed over empty air, and Lucan muttered an inward curse. Demons lurked outside, and he had foolishly left his blade in the SUV. His first day with his seraph, and already he failed to protect her accordingly.

As if Chloe too sensed they were no longer alone, she glanced over her shoulder at the window. Her gaze dipped to his. A hesitant smile waivered on her lips. “Some wind, isn’t it? Guess that storm’s blowing in after all.” She let out a sigh as she swiveled back to her computer. “Tomorrow we’ll have to dig out again. I wish the damn tarps I ordered two weeks ago would get here.”

Lucan narrowed his gaze, unable to stop the rush of suspicion. The quiver in her voice betrayed her awareness of the demons. But why did she show no fear? No concern at all about the malicious creatures waiting beyond? ’Twas as if she expected them.

He squeezed his eyes shut to cease the mistrustful racket of his thoughts. That she did not acknowledge their unwelcome company should not surprise him. She possessed no knowledge of his purpose. She had only been informed he, Caradoc, and Gareth were the Church’s educated experts on holy relics. ’Twould be foolishness to speak of dark spirits and evil beings to a stranger. She would subject herself to condemnation.

His belly rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten since dawn. Using it as an excuse, he pushed out of the chair and crossed the short distance between them. Hands braced on both sides of her desk, he leaned over her chair and brought his face close to hers. The subtle scent of warm vanilla and roses flooded into his awareness. His body tightened unexpectedly. At once, he was too close. Too far away. He closed his eyes to ward off the deep-rooted urge to press his mouth to the delicate shell of her ear.

Inhaling a short breath, he steeled himself against Chloe’s powerful allure. “My belly protests its emptiness. Let us leave this place.”

Her spine straightened like steel. She stared straight at the screen. “I’m almost finished.”

It took every ounce of willpower Lucan possessed to not dip his chin to her shoulder. He backed away before primal instinct overrode common sense. “You said the same an hour ago. Come.” Leaning forward he closed her laptop. “Let us sup. I shall treat you to dinner.”

A quiet laugh trilled in the back of her throat. She turned with an equally soft smile. “You have the most unusual accent.”

Satisfied he had won the battle, Lucan grinned. “A product of too many years in the Church’s employ.” He tugged her coat off the back of her chair and held it open for her to slide into.

She twisted close as she shrugged into her coat. So close his nerve endings rose, anticipating the satisfaction of contact. But just as quickly, Chloe escaped. “I’ll just grab something out of the refrigerator in my room. I keep it stocked for nights like this.”

He pursed his lips, not at all content with her obvious attempt to escape spending time with him. But before he could protest, Chloe used his earlier words against him.

“I’m exhausted, anyway.”

Grumbling to himself, he reluctantly accepted her excuse. He would not push her tonight. Though the creatures beyond demanded he reevaluate his determination to take his time with her, he did not have to begin tonight. He picked up his coat and stuffed his arms inside. “Where are your keys? I will start your vehicle.”

For one unexplainable moment, she looked like she would protest. Her brows narrowed. Her lips parted as if she sought to speak. But then, like a veil drawn over an open window, her expression smoothed. With a short, succinct nod, she fished a small collection of keys out of her desk drawer and lobbed them in his direction. “The silver Mercedes closest to the door.”

Lucan caught them at his shoulder. He let himself out into the cold and firmly closed the door. Standing on the porch, he blocked out all thoughts of Chloe and attuned his senses to the forest around him. He could feel them, aye. Demons amidst the trees.

Yet they kept their distance. Proof they waited for the Veronica, not the woman within.

He breathed easier, certain tonight would not bring a battle he could not fight. Striking a brisk pace, he hurried to her car and let himself inside. The engine turned over easily, a quiet rumble in the dark. As he waited for the heater to catch, he adjusted the seat. Though Chloe was tall, he still felt like a cramped sardine. Particularly after a day and a half in the larger, more spacious Templar vehicle.

To his absolute frustration, however, the trailer opened and Chloe exited. He tensed, thrust open the door, and set a foot outside to meet her on the stairs. But before he could fully remove himself from the Mercedes, she jogged down the graveled path and yanked on the passenger’s door.

Lucan slid back inside. “I would have walked you to the car.”

“That’s really not necessary.” The light extinguished as she pulled the door shut. Huddling into her coat, she shivered. “You’d think with March around the corner it’d be getting warmer.”

Easing onto the gas, Lucan navigated out of the parking space. “’Twill be another month or so. Have you not worked much in France?”

“No. I’ve spent most of my time in Egypt. I did a dig three years ago in China, but politics took a downturn and forced us out. Otherwise, I’ve been working on mummies and tombs.”

He glanced sideways as he turned onto the narrow country lane. Though he knew the Almighty brought her to France, he sought casual conversation. “Why did you choose Ornes and the le Goix castle?”

“Le Goix?” Interest sparked behind her eyes. “I didn’t know the castle had a name.”

“Aye, indeed. ’Twas erected centuries ago by Alaric le Goix. He was a servant of the Holy Order of the Knights Templar. What you are removing from the earth are the sacred relics he was charged to guard after the Inquisition condemned him as a heretic.”

*   *   *

Chloe’s thoughts skidded to a halt. Silently, she repeated Lucan’s words.
Charged to guard
after
he was condemned
. Wide-eyed, she stared at Lucan’s shadowed profile as the contradiction thundered in her head.

The Church had eradicated the Order. And yet, if Lucan was here, the Church had known all along Alaric le Goix harbored sacred objects. Her words came out in a rush. “You mean to tell me you knew?”

Lucan nodded. “Aye.”

She blinked, dumbfounded. “How is that possible? Why would the Church bury or hide things they could keep safe? You’ve got a whole Vatican to hide them in.”

On a heavy sigh, Lucan shook his head. “Not the Church as you know it. Members
within
. Leaders.”

Suspicious, Chloe squinted at him. “That’s insane.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You object when you have spent your career focused on Egypt?”

The superiority of his tone made her grit her teeth. “My early schooling was in medieval France, thank you. I left Egypt when the regime changed and it became unsafe.” Not exactly true—she’d left when it became unsafe, but for entirely different reasons than political instability.

She frowned at Lucan again. “How would
you
know the Church’s motives anyway? You’re not a cardinal privy to the Vatican’s secrets. You might be an expert in religious antiquities, but no more so than I’m an expert in Egyptian artifacts.”

Lucan reached a hand into the collar of his heavy long-sleeved shirt and pulled out a medallion. In the dim glow from the dash, a half-dollar-sized silver disk dangled from his fingers. She leaned closer to inspect the object. Her fingers brushed against his, and his gaze skipped down to hers for a heartbeat before he let go and fastened his attention on the empty road.

Still warm from his skin, the medallion rested on her fingertips. What had once been scalloped edges were now worn smooth with only a few hills and valleys to reveal its former design. She brushed her thumb over a crudely engraved cross. Equal in size, the four beams flared on the ends in classic Templar fashion. Above and below the vertical bar read the Latin words
Milites Templi.

“What is this?”

Lucan’s hand wrapped around hers. There was something profoundly intimate about the press of his fingers. The way his large palm enveloped the back of her hand. A foreign spark of excitement rushed up her shoulder, rocketed down her spine, and lodged in her womb.