Immortal Trust (5 page)

How she wished she’d listened to the native people of Bahariya who warned if she walked among the bones in the Valley of the Dead, she wouldn’t leave as she’d entered. But she’d been so young and naive then. So determined to make a name for herself within the Egyptology community. The remains she discovered, the artifacts she placed, all elevated her position among her peers. In hindsight, however, having her papers published internationally and her name recognized among her mentors didn’t justify the sacrifice.

If she’d heeded the warnings, or even bothered to wear the natives’ gifts of warding, she could have climbed to the same heights professionally without the nightmares. She might not have accomplished all the things she took pride in, but at least she’d know peace.

Still gripping her dagger, she rolled onto her side, her back to the curtained windows. As she closed her eyes, Lucan’s handsome face came to life. With the vision came the earlier contentment she’d experienced in the car. And though she knew she shouldn’t entertain the notion of getting tangled up in him, she indulged in a bit of private fantasy. She comforted herself by imagining the feel of his strong arms holding her tight. Sheltering her from the things that wished her harm. His skin would be warm, his body smooth and tight.

She created a fantastic scene of the two of them standing before the lake beyond the château, bathed in moonlight. His long raven hair would gleam in the silver light, and when she ran her fingers through the straight lengths, they would tickle against her palm. His gray eyes held promise along with a touch of arrogant self-confidence. When he dipped his chin to touch his mouth to hers, she’d feel the warm caress all the way down to her toes.

Heaven above, one night with him would erase all thoughts of demons, darkness, and nightmares. And the fact she entertained the idea of crossing that line between colleagues and lovers scared her more than all the things she longed to escape.

She opened her eyes and stared into the brightly lit bathroom. This was no way to find sleep. Thinking about him only added to her agitation. Besides, she didn’t dare trust him enough to let him slide beneath her sheets. He was an archaeologist, and therefore, her competitor. She’d learned the only person she could believe in was Julian. Beyond the fact he deferred to her and cared little about recognition for his work, he was her brother. The only man in this world who truly gave a damn about her success.

CHAPTER 4

Complete silence jolted Chloe from sleep. She snapped her eyes open, abandoning the illicit fantasy world of Lucan and his storm-gray eyes, and glanced around the room. The sliver of bright sunlight that poured through a gap in the heavy draperies brought her upright with a gasp. Panic launched her heart into double time as she squinted at the clock.

Eight o’clock. Crap! By now the student archaeologists would be onsite and her brother would be cursing her name. She hadn’t overslept in a good five years.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Damn it!”

Throwing the covers back, she bounded out of bed. She should have been at the trailer two hours ago. If not three. Julian would have her head on a platter for delaying their start. Not to mention she’d look like an amateur to Lucan and his friends. Of all the things she’d learned about her field, women had to work harder, put in more hours, and never complain if they intended to be viewed as equals.

She stumbled across the bedroom to the bathroom for her cell phone and punched in her brother’s number. His voice mail answered on the third ring.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” She caught her reflection in the mirror and swiped a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I’m late. Call me when you get this, and I’ll tell you where to start.”

Double damn—where the heck was he? For that matter, why hadn’t he called when she failed to show up by seven?

She tossed her cell aside and picked up her hairbrush. Wincing, she yanked it through the nest of tangles that had become a common morning occurrence since she’d set foot in Ornes. That she’d managed to fall so deeply into slumber was an oddity in itself. She remembered clutching the dagger, waking once to thumping at the window, and then nothing—unlike her usual nightly routine where she woke up three or four times, the last almost always fifteen minutes before her alarm went off.

Which was why she hadn’t set it. She’d become so accustomed to her internal clock, she hadn’t touched the alarm in a week.

When her hair refused to cooperate, she gave up and stuffed it into a ponytail. Shower would have to wait until tonight. Makeup would wait too. It wasn’t as if she intended to impress anyone, and the artifacts certainly wouldn’t care if she looked like a walking zombie.

She splashed a bit of cold water on her face to shake off the last of sleep’s embrace, snatched her cell phone, and rushed back into the bedroom for her clothes. Halfway across the room, she dialed Julian again.

When his recorded voice came through the line, she terminated the call and dropped the cell on her bed.

Weird.

Maybe he’d met up with a girl and he was running late too.

The thought spurred her into faster action. If Julian was holed up with a woman, then the rest of the team was in Ornes waiting for direction. Which meant Lucan, Caradoc, and Gareth were also sitting in the trailer—correction, sitting in their vehicles, since she had the keys—waiting.

She groaned again as she remembered the lecture she’d given Lucan. Lord above, she couldn’t look any more like a hypocrite.

Rummaging quickly through her clothes, she grabbed jeans, a sage green shirt, and a heavy off-white sweater. She pulled everything on in record time, jammed her feet into her boots, and tried her brother for the third time.

Again, no answer.

Where in the hell was he? He never ignored his phone. The damn thing was permanently affixed to his back pocket. And the sheer volume of text messages he received daily was proof enough he didn’t suffer from a loss of signal.

For good measure she typed in a quick message reiterating her imminent departure, and yanked her coat off the back of the chair. She jogged down the hall, around a sharp corner, and down the stairs.

In the lavish front hall, Chloe skidded to a stop.

Lucan lounged on an antique settee upholstered in rich velvet. One arm casually slung over the embellished back, he greeted her with a knowing grin. “Good morn.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. Ugh. Nothing like being caught red-handed. She’d banked on the short drive to create a plausible excuse for her tardiness. Resigned to the fact she couldn’t hide her unplanned delay, she smoothed her hands down the tops of her jeans and took a deep breath. “Morning.”

A quick glance around the lobby revealed he waited alone. She cocked her head and gave him a curious frown. “You’re by yourself?”

“Aye. Caradoc went on an hour ago.” Slowly, he stood. His gaze held hers too long, stirring to life all the images of her fantasy kiss. She looked away as her pulse accelerated and an embarrassing warmth slid into her veins. Men like this should not be allowed to greet women first thing in the morning. Especially women who were already late and hadn’t put makeup on. All they accomplished was unbalancing thoughts.

Lucan held his hand out, palm up. She glanced at it, then back to his face, not understanding.

“Your keys, milady. I shall drive you.”

“Really, I can drive myself.” Probably better that way too. At least she’d have time to collect herself mentally before she had to spend time alone with him. Time alone with Lucan was nowhere on her list of things to do anyway.

He, however, clearly had different intentions. He waggled his fingers. “I am quite certain you are capable of driving yourself. But as I have no other means of getting to the site, you may as well allow me to drive.” His grin broadened, and the light in his eyes took on a teasing glint. “’Twill allow you to enjoy the cup of coffee I suspect you need.”

In truth, she despised driving. Not that she couldn’t. Not that she didn’t. But she lacked the patience for traffic and her lead foot had a habit of accumulating tickets. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember whether she’d turned the last ticket over to her attorney before leaving Tucson. With her luck, she probably had a warrant out for her arrest now.

She’d let Lucan drive. Sometimes practicality took precedence over pride. Or in her case, fear of being cooped up with a man who smelled like a heavenly combination of old-world spice and clean soap.

“All right, fine,” she grumbled as she pulled the keys out of her pocket.

His fingers grazed over her palm as he closed them around the simple rubber keychain stamped with the car rental’s logo. She could have almost considered the touch accidental if it weren’t for the way he caught her fingertips for a fraction of a heartbeat.

Ignoring the ripple of excitement that made her pulse jump, she made a beeline for the long table of breakfast pastries and a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Dang it all, she needed to get a grip on her hormones. He was just a guy. One out of a dozen or more attractive men she’d met in her short stay in France.
They
hadn’t set off her pulse. There was no excuse for him to do so either.

She poured a liberal cup, grabbed a blueberry Danish, and turned around to find Lucan standing at the end of the table, eyes glued on her, his lazy smile intact. Long dark hair hung loose about his shoulders, blending into the deep black of his cropped, aviator-style coat. The heavy garment fell open to reveal a deep red shirt beneath. Despite the layers, his powerful build showed.

Chloe groaned inwardly. Likely nothing could hide that broad expanse of muscle. Thank heavens it wasn’t summer, and she didn’t have to worry about his taking his shirt off beneath the hot sun. She’d have to change her rules with her students if it were.

She took a step forward, declining to start conversation. Surprising her completely, Lucan’s hand settled into the small of her back. Casual. Yet familiar. Too familiar. She took a quick step to escape his unsettling nearness.

He widened his stride.

Silently cursing the fates, she accepted the fact she couldn’t avoid contact without coming off rude, and allowed Lucan to guide her through the front door all the way down to the car. He stopped at the passenger’s side to let her in, then rounded the front bumper as she eased into the seat.

In seconds, he had the car started and steered down the drive. As they turned onto the narrow road, Chloe realized he’d only mentioned Caradoc. “Where’s your other friend? Gareth? Is that his name?”

“Aye, ’tis.” He chuckled softly. “France is disagreeing with him.”

Surprise lifted her eyebrows. “Oh? Did he eat something that made him sick?”

Another chuckle rumbled in Lucan’s chest. He shook his head. “He overindulged.”

Oh.
Like Julian. She supposed she should have sensed Gareth shared an affinity for women. With the same boyish good looks her brother possessed, they were apt to fall at his feet. Add in Gareth’s impressive physique, and Julian might have a real rival when it came to shopping the château’s female guests. Precisely what she needed to make the rest of this dig memorable—two men to baby-sit.

At the thought of her brother, she fished her phone out and tried again. Still, no one answered. Dropping it back into her purse, she sighed. “I guess he’s not the only one.”

“Nay?”

“Yeah, Julian evidently had a night of it too.” She forced a light laugh to hide her concern.
Why
wasn’t he answering? Even when he did have women in his room, four calls in an hour would have had him responding. It just wasn’t like him. He worried over her too much to ignore her calls.

She glanced out the window and filled the silence with random conversation. “Well, at least it didn’t snow. Though it looks like it might at any minute.”

“It shall before the day is through.”

“I take it you caught the weather report?”

“Nay. I looked at the clouds.” He grinned again, the light behind his unusual eyes playful.

Teasing her again. If she let it go to her head, she’d think he was flirting. Oh, who was she kidding? There was no question about it—he absolutely was flirting with her. And damned if she didn’t like it. She’d forgotten how nice it could be to bask beneath a man’s attentions. Sitting here like this, riding passenger beside Lucan while he navigated the Mercedes down the winding road that led to the dig site, took her back to the innocence of youth. Back before Blake’s betrayal. Back when she believed in happily ever after and didn’t have to worry about who might steal her work.

Reality settled on her shoulders, shadowing her mood. Lucan came on the Church’s behalf. They wanted something. Something of substance. The bejeweled crosses and painted icons of saints weren’t enough to warrant assigning three experts to represent their interests. One
maybe
. But even then, what her team had uncovered wasn’t anything that couldn’t be shipped to the rightful owners.

She regarded him thoughtfully. “Why are you here?”

Lucan’s hands tightened on the wheel. For a passing moment he pursed his lips. In the next, he drew in a breath, then gave her a sideways glance. “Today you will unearth Veronica’s Veil.”

Chloe’s brows lifted to her hair. Wide-eyed she blinked. “What?”

“Aye, you heard me. The cloth that mopped the brow of Christ. You shall uncover it today amongst le Goix’s sacred charges.”

In the back of her throat, a giggle threatened. She tried to stifle it by swallowing, but it burst free with a quick, hearty bark of laughter. “You can’t be serious.
If
that legend is true, there’s no way a cloth like that would survive centuries underground. The bugs would eat it to pieces.”

Lucan turned into the gravel lot, his expression void of his earlier good humor. As he applied the brakes and rolled to a stop, he leveled her with a hard stare. “I assure you, milady, I do not jest.” He gestured at the trailers and the excavation beyond. “’Tis the reason why everyone is gathered near the castle ruins.”