Immortal Trust (7 page)

“Stay with her, Lucan. I will stay here and guard the others.”

Anger blistered through her at what could only be a muffled inference to their clear distrust of her and her team. What did they think she’d do—run off with their priceless treasure? Couldn’t she just
enjoy
the find a bit before they started hashing out logistics and demanding she turn the relic over to its rightful state of ownership?

The sound of boots crunching behind her made her quicken her step. No way was she going to let these two think she hadn’t heard that statement. If they mistrusted her ethics so much, she was done with professional courtesy. Let Julian handle the both of them. His current bad mood needed an outlet, and he’d certainly find the words to put Lucan and Caradoc in their place. Maybe even land a good insult or two. Things her tongue would fail as soon as she looked at the handsome, dark-haired Lucan again.

She nudged the trailer door open with her boot and stalked inside. Julian, however, thwarted the satisfying slam. He entered behind her, catching the door inches from the frame. Gingerly, she deposited the trunk onto one of the chrome-topped tables and switched on an overhead lamp.

“Open it,” Julian urged as he bent over the opposite side of the table.

Resisting the urge to take the flat side of her palm to the side of his head, Chloe squinted at her brother. “Did you drink too much last night? Still drunk, maybe? We don’t
open
anything until we have everything documented exactly as we found it.”

He grumbled. Looking over the gilt top, he urged, “Let me see it, Chloe. Damn, it’s the nicest thing we’ve found. You don’t have to be so selfish with it.”

She arched an eyebrow but pulled her hands away and splayed them in surrender. A fierce gleam brightened behind his blue eyes as he turned the trunk around to look at the front side. He traced the high relief figures, ran his hands down the smooth silver corners. “Perfect,” he murmured beneath his breath.

“It’s got to be a Nicholas of Verdun work.”

“I know what it is,” Julian snapped. As she recoiled, he softened his inconsiderate words with a smile. “Sorry. I had suspicions the minute we turned loose the corner. Feels like I’ve been waiting days to look at this.”

She nodded, but studied the dark circles beneath his eyes, not yet ready to let go of a brimming argument. “You didn’t answer your phone this morning. Had you, you might have had this box out of the ground earlier.”

He gave her a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “I left it in the hotel room. Fell asleep chatting with Miranda.”

Chatting …
right.
She’d bet the golden box that chatting wasn’t the extent of a late-night conversation with the girl back home in Tucson who Julian tended to fall back on when his current well ran dry. Their
arrangement
defied Chloe’s concept of logic. Why any woman would be content with a sometimes lover, fully knowing she wasn’t the only one to slide across his bed, she’d never understand.

“How is Miranda?”

A smirk twisted his mouth, confirming her suspicions. “Good.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Next time you might try remembering other people use your phone for
work
purposes.”

Nodding, he traced the outline of the Virgin Mary’s face. “Don’t scold. I wasn’t the only one with a late night.”

“What?”

Julian chuckled as he turned the box to examine the left side. “You’re never late to work. And you roll in with one of
them.
I saw the way he looked at you.”

Chloe spluttered as she grasped the meaning of his insinuation. “You’ve got to be kidding. You think I spent the night with Lucan?”

“So that’s his name, huh? Pretty name for a pretty face.” He looked over the top of the trunk, his gaze full of meaning. “Be careful. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him.” That she was defending the very man she’d just sworn off crossed her mind after she spit the words out. Catching herself, she snapped her mouth shut.

“Just saying. He reminds me of Blake. He’s got that look in his eye. Next thing you know, he’ll be in here wanting to see the relic. Mark my words, when he leaves with it, your name won’t make the Vatican’s reports.”

Chloe’s stomach did a slow upside-down roll. She swallowed down a lump that rose to the back of her throat and cleared her voice. For her sake, more than her brother’s, she argued, “He’s not that way.”

Julian gave the box another quarter turn. “If you say so.”

Annoyed with the turn of their discussion, she reached for the trunk. “Give me the artifact. I’ll start cleaning it up while Andy’s outside.”

Resistance met her gentle pull. His mouth once again a tight line of annoyance, Julian scowled at her. “Turn it loose, sis. I want to open it.”

The hair on the back of her neck lifted as he repositioned his hands and tugged the trunk closer to him. What in the world had gotten into him? She wrapped her arms around the heavy square of gold and silver and jerked it away. “I’m cleaning it. Sticking to protocol. Andy’ll be happy with the camera.”

Before Julian could argue, the trailer door banged open and Lucan stepped inside. Triumph gleamed behind the look Julian shot Chloe before he shouldered past Lucan and stormed out the door.

CHAPTER 6

Lucan slowly crossed to Chloe and the reliquary. Her stiff spine and abrupt about-face made it clear he was not welcome. She spun on the taps above a fiberglass bath with barely controlled fury. ’Twas time for this animosity, this unfeeling distance to come to an end. She must begin to understand they were destined for something larger, and she must come to trust him. Courting had its place, and whilst he would not pressure her, he would no longer stand idly by and allow her to keep him at arm’s length. Now that she had the Veronica, Azazel would soon arrive. To believe otherwise would be stupid.

He set his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close enough that her shoulder blades brushed against his chest. The urge to wrap his arms around her and snug her into his embrace flooded him. But the tenseness in her torso warned she would not welcome such forwardness. Instead, he lowered his head toward her shoulder, close enough she could not mistake his murmur. “I am no ogre, Chloe. I do not bite.”

She let out a derisive snort. “No, you just think I’m going to make off with your prize. Guard the others—you think I didn’t hear him? Good God, I was less than three feet away.” Frowning, she gestured at his sword. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? Where’d you come up with that anyway?”

Lucan cursed inwardly. Damnation, ’twas no wonder her gaze shot daggers when he entered. He must explain this to her, explain her purpose. But here, in a field trailer where anyone could interrupt the necessary conversation was not the place. Besides, here she had too many places she could run, should she revolt against the preordained.

He pressed his thumbs through her thick coat into her tense muscles and gave her shoulders a squeeze. Her subtle perfume tickled his nose as he inched his mouth closer to her cheek. “I am not here to chaperone your actions or intimidate. Caradoc gave me the blade this morn—I wear it to free my hands. You must trust me in this.” Before her smooth skin rendered him senseless and he yielded to the urge to brush his lips across her cheek, he straightened. With gentle pressure, he turned her away from the bath to face the reliquary. “Come. Let me tell you about your find.”

Allowing her to hesitate only long enough to turn off the faucets, he dropped his hand to capture her wrist and lead her toward the table. When she stood before him once again, he shucked his coat, then gave hers a tug. She obliged by unzipping it and shrugging it off. The heavy down coat fell into his hands. Lucan tossed both atop the table, then pulled the reliquary beneath the light. Bending over the polished chrome, he pointed to the painted ivory beads that created divine light behind the kneeling figure of Mary. “These were crafted by a name you would well know.”

Contradictory to her earlier reserve, she chuckled. “Tim said they could pass for Michelangelo.”

“Nay,” he answered with a grin. “’Twas not a mortal’s hand, but that of the archangel Gabriel.”

At the disbelief that passed across her face, he gestured to a rack of metal drawers to her right. “Have you a small knife?”

With a perplexed frown she passed him a utility knife. He placed the tip beneath the edge of one of the ivory beads.

“What are you doing?” Chloe cried. “Stop! You’ll destroy it.”

Her concern for the relic warmed him in ways he could not explain. It spoke of respect, for the labors of their shared ancestors, for the truths it could reveal. But ’twas unnecessary. He would no more harm it than she would. He gave her a smile. “Shh,” he chided as he popped one free from its golden bed. “’Tis meant for disbelievers.” He closed the bead in his fist and reached for her hand.

“No,” she protested with a fierce shake of her head. “I don’t want to be part of this. You’ve just ruined an intact artifact.”

“Chloe.” He lifted his gaze, held hers steadily. “’Tis my artifact to ruin, is it not? Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, she opened her fingers. Lucan dropped the bead into her palm, then pressed her fingers closed and held her hand between both of his. “What do you feel?” he whispered.

As he held her gaze, her rich amber eyes filled with tears. He knew not what she experienced—the beads spoke to the hearts of man. Each sentiment that carried through their divine creation differed from one to another. He gave her hand a supportive squeeze, then released her.

When she shook her head, he did not press for answers. He scooped the bead from her trembling fingers and dropped it back into the surface of the reliquary. Gesturing at it, he grinned. “Try to pull it free.”

Chloe’s brow furrowed as she pried at the bead with her nail. It remained unmoving, anchored into its lavish bed. “How the…”

“Divinity.”

She drew back and folded her arms over her chest. “That’s impossible, Lucan.”

“Is it? Did you not just hold the bead in your hand?”

“Yes, but…”

Lucan lifted his eyebrows, daring her to complete the sentence. When she did not, he pointed to the images of Anubis, Athena, and the oak tree. “’Tis the union of all faiths as one, the portrayal we all serve the same creator no matter how we worship. Each scene brings power to the reliquary. The magic of the angels completes the divine link. A bead may be removed once each year. To those most in need.”

She lowered thick reddish lashes. “I hardly believe I’m most in need.”

As a stray tear crept from the corner of her eye, Lucan’s chest tightened. He leaned forward and caught the drop on the tip of his index finger. Holding it between them, he whispered, “These speak differently.”

Color filled her ivory cheeks. Unwilling to embarrass her further, Lucan wiped the tear on his jeans and straightened. “Come, I will help you clean up the reliquary.”

Her stubborn pride returned as she hefted the trunk off the table and carried it to the bath. “I can handle it.”

Lucan rolled his eyes skyward and muttered a prayer for patience. He joined her at the fiberglass tub. “I am aware you are perfectly capable on your own. I wish to aid you.”

“So you can supervise? Make sure I don’t break it?”

His temper sparked, and he narrowed his eyes. “Saint’s blood, did we not just cover this? ’Tis naught you can do to harm the reliquary, and I am unconcerned with your intentions.” Taking a deep breath to calm his rising ire, he expelled it in one heavy sigh and lowered his voice. “’Tis time with you I desire, Chloe Broussard.”

He heard the catch of her breath. Observed the tremor in her hand as she reached for the sprayer. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Lucan.”

Pressing in closer to her side, he challenged the invisible boundary she set between them. His hip brushed hers. “Do you find my company so disagreeable?” Lowering his chin, he gave in to the desire to touch his lips to her shoulder. The light feminine scent of roses engulfed him, the effect one of dizzying pleasantness. He could not help but wonder if that heady scent would cling to her skin as it did to her hair. If ’twould gather between the soft valley of her breasts. His throat tightened at the forbidden thought, and his voice hoarsened. “Do your hands shake because you find me so unpleasant?”

A shiver rolled down her spine and into him. “No,” she whispered.

“Then why?” Pushing her further, Lucan boldly pressed a lingering chaste kiss to the side of her neck. He near groaned at the warmth of her silken skin, the vibration of her pulse beneath his lips. God’s teeth, she was no more immune to him than he to her. Their shared energies arced between them like a live current, inflaming his senses. ’Twas all he could do to resist setting his hands on her hips, turning her into his arms, and sampling the sweet flavor of her mouth. She belonged to him. He possessed that right …

Nay
. Though she might come to accept him in time, if he pushed her too far now, she would fight him all the more. This joining of their lives must come at her choosing.

“Because.” Her voice caught and she swallowed. When she spoke again, the tremor that had lingered in her hands revealed itself in her words. “Because Andy is about to walk through the door.”

Christ’s toes! Lucan swore beneath his breath as he backed up several paces and cleared his throat. “Aye.” He chose a respectful, professional distance and leaned his hip against the washing tub. “Indeed.”

The faintest hint of an amused smile scampered across her face. Her gaze swept down his body, and her eyes crinkled in wry humor as she observed the tightness of his jeans, evidence of the blatant effect she had upon him. When she lifted her eyes to his, he quirked an eyebrow, silently challenging her to deny her blood ran equally as warm.

Blushing, she shook her head and turned the light sprayer on the relic.

Lucan captured her hand, forcing her to look at him. “You must not share the secrets of the reliquary with anyone, Chloe.”

“Why not? If it’s what you claim, the world should know.”