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SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 123

The flight to Jacksonville had been uneventful even though Lucas had scoured the airport at both DFW and in Florida when they landed. Even now, as their rental car was headed south along A1A toward St. Augustine, he kept looking in the rear-view mirror.

“Do you really think we’re being followed?” Sara asked.

“After what nearly happened to you, I’m not taking any chances,” Lucas

answered and gave her a brief smile.

Why did he have to look so seductive? The smile wasn’t meant to be anything

more than reassurance, but she could still taste those full, sensual lips slanted on hers and feel him mouth her breast gently, letting his tongue tease her nipple and then suckling long and hard only to lightly flick the taut nub with the tip of his tongue again, prolonging the delicious agony. If only she could convince him that she was not afraid of his wolf, even if it did emerge.

“You’re being quiet. Penny for your thoughts?” Lucas asked.

She felt herself blush. Probably not a good idea to tell him. “Just looking at the water,” she said as she gazed past him to the turquoise blue of the Atlantic. “It’s so much prettier than the water on the Texas Gulf.”

“That’s because this has a sand bottom and the Gulf is mud.”

“It’s flatter, too,” she said. “The Gulf always has swells of three to five feet.”

Lucas arched an eyebrow. “It might get choppier soon. Looks like a cloud bank on the horizon.”

She studied it. The clouds did seem unusually dark. “Probably just one of the afternoon tropical thunderstorms that roll through,” she said. “The last week of April is too early for the hurricane season.”

Big drops of rain began to fall as the drove into St. Augustine and Sara took out an umbrella as they pulled up in front of the Cathedral Basilica near the heart of the city.

“Let’s see when this was built,” she said as they walked up and she looked at the cornerstone. “1793.” She tried not to sound disappointed. “Too late if the Sinclairs came here in the late sixteenth century.”

“This is the present church,” Lucas answered. “It may be on the same spot as the first church was. Let’s check out the cemetery. Your friend did mention graveyards, not the churches themselves.”

Sara brightened. “That’s true. Let’s see if we can find an ancient oak tree and some rosebushes.”

Again, she was disappointed for there were no trees big enough to be even a

hundred years old.

The rain increased in intensity as they took cover in the car. Lucas’ wet linen shirt clung to his body, outlining the hard muscles of his shoulders and arms. Sara longed to unbutton his shirt and dry that broad chest with a big, fluffy towel and then move down … Goddess, will I never stop fantasizing? Then she realized Lucas was staring at her own chest. Glancing down, she saw how her wet tee-shirt outlined the SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 124

mounds of her breasts. Her nipples hardened on their own accord, poking at the thin fabric.

Lucas tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “There are actually three

churches that belong to the Basilica,” he said as he quickly picked up the tourist information they had gotten earlier. “Want to check those out?”

“Sure,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound too steady.

The first one they drove past had a modern curved front with lots of glass. “This one is way too new,” Sara said.

They drove to the next one, located on Martin Luther King Avenue. “St.

Benedict the Moor,” she read. “Sounds interesting.”

Lucas stopped the car and they braved the weather to make a quick tour of the

graveyard, again with no practical results. As they returned to the car, Lucas pointed up.

“That rose window reminds me of the European cathedrals,” he said. ‘One of the earliest ones was at Abbot Suger near Paris in the 1130’s. A century later, when the Templars were established in France, they placed them in Notre Dame, Laon, and Chartres.” He paused. “They always had the windows face west, although later in England, the window in Westminster Abbey faced north and the one in old St. Paul’s cathedral faced east.”

She looked up at the large, circular, stained-glass window with its stone tracery radiating from the center. “The old Roman church dedicated those windows to the Virgin Mary, didn’t they?”

Lucas nodded. “They referred to her as the Mystic Rose.”

Sara shook her head. “The Mystic Rose was Mary Magdalene, not the Virgin.”

She grew thoughtful. “There may be a link, though.”

“How so?” Lucas asked as he kept his gaze carefully fixed on her face and not on her wet-shirt breasts.

Really, she didn’t mind if he looked. She wondered how it felt for him to have her breasts fill his hands or if he noticed the contrast between the hard nipple and the soft flesh surrounding it when he suckled. The thought made her breasts feel heavy and achy with need. How could she break through that steel resolve of his? She heaved a big sigh which caused her breasts to rise and was rewarded to see him inhale sharply. Maybe she could get to the man. Better to pretend she hadn’t noticed though.

“Did you know there’s a theory that traces Galahad back through both Lancelot

and Elaine’s bloodlines all the way to the Magdalene herself?”

He looked intrigued. “Tell me.”

“It’s all in a book called Bloodline of the Holy Grail by Laurence Gardner,” she said. “Galahad’s roots go back through Lancelot I and II as well as Taliesin, Nascien, Anfortas, and Josephes, who was the Magdalene’s son.” She paused. “He also addresses the ancient marriage rites of Mesopotamia and Egypt where it was the female who gave strength and power to the male.”

“And your point?” Lucas prodded gently when she fell to thinking silently.

“The point is that the Roman church became male-dominated by the third century, but worship of the sacred feminine was alive and well in earlier times. And it didn’t die out. Mary had a daughter named Sarah who carried on the other bloodline.”

“Goddess worship?”

Sara nodded and looked back at the rose window. “West is the direction of the SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 125

Otherworld where Arianrhod resides. If the Templars had the windows face that direction, maybe were sympathetic to goddess worship.”

“An interesting theory,” Lucas said just as a bolt of lightening bounced off a light pole down the street and the crack of thunder jolted the car. “We can continue this conversation later. Right now, I think we’d better try and find a hotel.”

The idea of being in a hotel room with him was definitely appealing, but even as she thought about the possibilities of a hot shower, accidentally forgetting her robe, and emerging just wrapped in a towel, she knew he’d book two rooms. She sighed.

“There’s still plenty of daylight left. Why don’t we just head north and try to get out of this storm?”

Lucas looked up at the threatening sky with its dark clouds scudding lower.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said.

* * * *

“My cell’s dead,” Sara said as she tried again to get the power to come on.

“With this rain, a tower couldn’t pick up the signal anyway,” Lucas said as he stared at his own cell phone on the dash. It wasn’t working either. “By the Dagda, I havna seen rain pelting sideways, blinding a mon, since I sailed the Hebrides.” As if to answer him, the wind shrieked its fury, lashing at the rented SUV. He swore softly.

“At least we’re in the ditch,” Sara said, “in case this storm spawns a tornado.”

He glanced at her, a little amused that she could be optimistic under the

circumstances. He was thankful she wasn’t the squeamish sort.

“Do you think we were run off the road on purpose?” she asked.

It was the question that he had been pondering. The black car had been traveling much too fast for the road conditions—Bel’s Fires! He’d been crawling along at fifteen miles an hour barely able to see twenty feet in front of the Excursion—and the guy had crossed over the line, leaving Lucas no choice but to put the big car into the ditch. And it was probably due to the protective spell of the shield that he’d seen the car in the first place. He was glad now that he’d brought it along.

“I don’t know.”

She looked at him, her eyes steady on his. “Was it Baylor?”

He had to admit, she had guts. There was no fear in her voice. “I don’t know how he would have found us,” he said finally. That was another thing that left him uneasy. Balor rarely involved himself directly in any sort of confrontation. Yet, he had dealt with Sara himself and, assumedly, killed the two abductors he’d hired. Changing his M.O. made him doubly dangerous since Lucas didn’t know what to anticipate next.

He had other problems as well. Physical ones. The wolf always responded to

changes in weather and storms brought out the primitive urge to respond to nature’s frenzy. Even now he felt his blood heat and he throttled the savage howl that rose in his throat. He should get out and go for a run, but he didn’t want to leave Sara alone, not even with the shield lying in the back.

As he looked at her, the wet tee-shirt displaying the perfect outline of her breasts, yet keeping the creamy satin of her skin and the rosy color of her taunt nipples hidden from him, he felt another basic urge take hold.

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“Do you think we’ll have to spend the night here?” she asked.

His already stiff cock grew harder and his balls tightened. He groaned inwardly.

How in Hades was he going to control himself if they were going to spend the next ten hours in this confined space? But the truth was, he hadn’t heard any cars passing. Even if one did, the ditch was deep enough that they wouldn’t be seen, especially with dusk approaching. But he should try. He reached for the door handle.

“I can go stand on the road and try to flag someone down,” he said.

“No!” Sara grabbed his arm. “It’s getting dark and with the rain not letting up, you could get hit.”

Her touch was sending unbelievable sensations to his groin and his jeans were

way too tight. Lucas called on centuries' worth of will power and was gratified to feel the wolf retreat. He took a deep breath.

“Then this is it,” he said, surprised his voice wasn’t squeaking like an adolescent boy. “You can take the back and I’ll keep watch up here.”

She hesitated a second, looking deep into his eyes, and then removed her hand

from his arm. “This seat reclines,” she finally said. “You take the back so you can stretch out.”

“I’ll be fine here.”

A small smile played around her mouth and Lucas gripped the steering wheel in

an effort not to pull her across the console and ravage that sensual mouth. The beast raised his head and pricked his ears.

“I appreciate your gallantry, Sir Knight,” she said half-mockingly, “but I would prefer you be rested. We don’t know what we’re going to face in the morning.”

She had a point. Even if Balor or one of his henchmen wasn’t lurking down the road, they still had to get the car out of the mud. But he wasn’t at all sure how rested he would be unless his cock would cooperate. He envisioned a bucket of ice water splashing on him, cooling him down. It worked a little.

“Why don’t you change into some dry clothes?” he asked. Maybe if he couldn’t

see her form so distinctly he could get past this feral need he had for her.

She bit her lip and then scooted between the two bucket seats to where their

suitcases were resting on the folded-down seats. He was tempted to watch her in the mirror and then chided himself. By the gods he was thinking like a schoolboy.

“All done,” she said a few minutes later as she emerged in a dry T-shirt and shorts that made her legs look a mile long. Lucas wasn’t sure if the sight of bare thighs was any better than looking at her wet breasts. The wolf growled approvingly and Lucas fervently wished the storm would stop lashing its fury about them.

“I think I’ll turn in. Maybe we get started at dawn,” he said.

Sara nodded and moved the lever to recline her chair, which left her lying back looking up at him. Just what he needed. It was all he could do not to pounce on her as he between the bucket seats to the back. He lifted the shield into the driver’s seat. “Doors locked?” he asked.

“Yes.” She turned to look at him. “Give me your shirt. I’ll drape it over the shield. It should be dry by morning.”

Being half-naked around her probably wasn’t the wisest thing he should do. Yet the idea of sleeping in the wet shirt wasn’t appealing either. He stripped it off and handed it to her. The feel of her hand brushing his brought the wolf to attention again SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 127

and stiffened his other head’s resolve. He sighed and laid down, trying to get comfortable.

Guilt assuaged him. The bucket seat up front was spacious, but sleeping in it wouldn’t be that comfortable. There was plenty of room back here for both of them.

Could he trust the wolf not to turn on her? Outside the storm was still raging and the wolf’s instincts were on alert.

“You can come back here if you want to,” he said after twisting and turning for several minutes. “There’s room enough for both of us.”

She peeked around the corner of her chair. “I thought you told me that being too close brought the wolf out.”

He sighed. “It does. But I’ll make sure I don’t touch you.” Could he sound any more stupid? Not since Queen Victoria’s time had he had to act so proper. And he couldn’t recall any Victorian ladies that had enticed him half as much as Sara did. It was going to be a long night.