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Morgan—had been very patient in trying to get Michael into her bed. Most men only

needed a “come hither” look and she could have their cocks pumping between her thighs

and bringing her all sorts of delight. But, for some reason, Michael resisted her, which made him all the more intriguing. She wanted him mounting her, riding her hard, his

muscular arms holding him over her while she played with his well-chiseled bare chest.

Sophie picked up her keys and stood. “I‟m ready.”

Morgan forced a bright smile on her face as Michael opened the door for Sophie

and followed her out. Now she had a reason for making Adam Baylor‟s vendetta her

own. Michael McCain was
hers
. And no woman was going to get in her way.

* * * *

“I‟d feel better if you gave me your word you won‟t take any more rides with

Caldwell,” Michael said.

Sophie refrained from rolling her eyes. “So you‟ve said about ten times since we

picked up my car.” She plucked at a nacho chip from the plate they were sharing before

she had to get back to the clinic.

“I don‟t trust the guy,” Michael answered. “My friend, Sara, dealt with him. He

took her to lunch and she got really sick, like she‟d been drugged. Neither Lucas or I

could prove anything, but…”

“And here I am, having lunch with
you.”
She waved another chip in front of him

and smiled. “Am I safe?” A series of emotions crossed his face. She wasn‟t sure she had even seen them. Oh God, what if he thought she was flirting? She was just trying to

lighten the conversation.

“You will always be safe with me,” he finally said as a muscle twitched in his

jaw. “I‟ll protect you.”

Sophie stared at him. Why was he getting all serious like some medieval knight?

“Lighten up, will you? Alan drove me directly home and, since there was a group

milling around outside, he walked me to my door and came inside for a minute.”

“He
what
? You didn‟t mention that.”

“Maybe because I didn‟t want another lecture? He wanted to see the rapier I use

for fencing, that‟s all. Why are you acting like my father anyhow?”

Michael nearly choked on a chip and reached for his water. His dark eyes glinted

at her. “Acting like your father was the last thing on my mind.”

Sophie felt her face heat at the possible innuendo. She was hardly having paternal

thoughts about Michael either. It would be extremely difficult for
any
woman not to react to him. He was all male, his close-fitting t-shirt defining the sculpted muscles of his shoulders and chest and clinging to sleekly carved biceps. She would bet his flat belly had the required six-pack of ridges in it. His muscular thighs in the tight jeans made her SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 36

wonder if he rode horses. Not that she was looking at his thighs or at that bulge above them as he perched on the barstool next to her. Really, what woman wouldn‟t notice?

She swept her gaze to his face, but that didn‟t help much. His mahogany hair rakishly

brushed his collar and his dark eyes penetrated, as though he were looking into her very soul. Her face flamed and she silently cursed her fair complexion. Better to turn the tables.

“So how do you know Morgan?” she asked.

He took another sip of water and studied her. “She belongs to a group called

Sisterhood Circle. They…study old goddess religions. Sometimes I join them.”

Sophie frowned. “Don‟t tell me you are like those New-Age Druids who go to

Stonehenge at the solstices? Dancing around in white robes?”

Michael smiled. He had two kinds of smiles, Sophie decided. This one showed a

dimple that made him look angelic. The other one was all bad-boy and made her body

want to do very lustful things.

“Too much tourism at Stonehenge these days,” he said easily. “Sometimes, I‟m

asked for advice, since I do have that almost useless degree.” He grinned suddenly—no

dimple—and reached over to wipe a drop of salsa off Sophie‟s chin with the pad of his

thumb. “But you shouldn‟t knock something until you‟ve tried it, right?”

That
was his wicked grin. She wondered if he knew that her nipples had just

tightened with that slow brush of his thumb? He probably did since he was giving her a

very perceptive look. Damn it. Better to change the subject. Fast.

“So, tell me about the riddle from the manuscript,” she said as briskly as she

could. “It is how you coerced me into spending time on lunch.”

“You‟ve got to eat to keep up your strength. Never know when you‟re going to

need it.” His grin widened. “Or for what.”

She hoped her face wouldn‟t suddenly explode into flame; it felt so hot.

“The riddle?” she asked again.

Michael tossed several bills on the counter. “Let‟s go outside to the car. I don‟t

want anyone to overhear us.”

Sitting in the intimately small space of his sports car, their knees practically

touching, probably wasn‟t the wisest choice she‟d made. Her truck would have been

better. Sophie took a deep breath, which was another mistake, since it brought his

scent—woodsy and with that light, strange smell of heather—directly to her, along with

the scent that was purely
him
. Pheromones in an enclosed space were not good.

Seemingly unaware of the increasing amount of hormones being produced at the

moment, Michael handed her the poetic riddle.

She read it and frowned. “The firedrake is the dragon?”

“Seems to be,” Michael answered. “The Pendragon certainly has lit up the sky.”

“Who‟s the knight in this?” She suddenly remembered the strange dream.

“You?”

“Afraid not.” Michael gave her the angelic smile, not the lustfully wicked one.

“Uther took on the surname of the Pendragon. Since we‟re looking for Excalibur, I

assume the knight would be none other than Arthur.”

Sophie studied him. He seemed perfectly serio us. But were seriously delusional

people serious? If they believed what they said to be true… “You‟re telling me Arthur

really existed and is not just the stuff of myth and legend?”

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 37

“To be sure, myths and legends have sprung up,” Michael replied, “thanks to

Mallory, Tennyson, White, and others. But there has also been enough scholarly research done—hundreds of books, in fact—that points to Arthur being a great warlord in the sixth century and the one responsible for maintaining peace with the Saxons for nearly twenty

years after the battle of Badon Hill.” He paused. “I think he was successful because he had at least two of the relics with him—the sword and the Grail.”

Sophie glanced down at the riddle again. “Okay. Let‟s say I play along with this

game for now. Supposedly some person—and it does say “he” and not “she”—who sees

the dragon will find the sword at some lake. That‟s a big help. Which state‟s hundreds of lakes would you like to start with? How about Minnesota? There‟s at least ten

thousand lakes there, according to the tourist business.”

Michael shook his head. “The sword will be found in the south, not the north.”

“How do you know that? Divine intuition or something?”

“Not intuition—actually, more of a science of sorts. That should appeal to you.”

“It might,” Sophie answered. “Go on.”

“First of all, remember that these are Celtic relics, given to the world by the gods

of the Fae. I know!” He held up his hand as she started to protest. “That part isn‟t

scientific, but just listen. Those ancient religions were based not only on Goddess-

worship, but on harmony and respect for the laws of nature as well.” He took another

folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “This is the first riddle.”

Sophie unfolded it and read:

“Where roses climb to heaven

Lugh‟s lance will wait

Near to the Druid‟s tree

Enter Dawn‟s gate.”

She handed the paper back. “It doesn‟t make any sense to me. Where was the

spear found?”

“Near a graveyard in Lewiston, Maine, by the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul.

Are you familiar with the Tarot?”

Sophie arched a brow. “Only as a fortune-telling game.”

“It‟s much more than that,” Michael answered, no trace of a smile on his face.

“But I‟ll spare you the lecture. In a nutshell, the suit of Wands—or Lances—relates to

the element of air, through which it flies. The suit is also symbolic of new beginnings—

dawn, springtime, birthing. “Dawn‟s gate” would refer to the east, where the sun rises.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But how did your friends know where to go?”

“They didn‟t at first. They visited places along the east coast that could have been

in existence around 1590 which is when we suspected the relics were removed from

Scotland. The first place they went was Oak Island in Nova Scotia. Have you heard

about the Money Pit?”

“No. It sounds like some casino in Vegas though.”

“Perhaps that isn‟t a bad comparison,” Michael replied, “but no. Around 1800

three boys decided to go searching for buried treasure since ships wrecked off the Grand Banks all the time. They found a depression in the ground and started digging. Two feet down, they came upon a layer of carefully laid flagstones. They removed that and

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 38

discovered an already-dug shaft. Ten feet more and they discovered a platform of oak

logs. The wood was rotted from age and when they dug another ten feet, they came to a

second platform...workers were brought in only to find more platforms at ten-foot

intervals to a depth of ninety feet where they found another flagstone with a medieval

inscription that translated to valuable treasure buried even further below, but now the

tunnel started filling with water. Long story short, for the past two hundred years,

syndicates have been trying to find what is buried there, but encounter one booby-trap

after another.”

“Why would Sara and Lucas think the spear was there?” Sophie asked.

“The theory is that a secret society has existed for a thousand years entrusted not

only with actual treasure like the relics, but also with ancient scrolls that contain esoteric knowledge crucial to saving—or destroying—the world. The St. Clair‟s protected the

Templars when they sought refuge in Scotland in 1307. Remember I told you the St.

Clair‟s discovered America in the late 1300‟s and with the Inquisition two hundred years later, they decided to remove the Templar treasure?”

“So they took it to Nova Scotia? I don‟t understand. I thought you said the spear

was found in Maine.”

“It was. The whole building of the Money Pit was a ruse. There were enough

hints of treasure—coded to be sure, but easy enough to decipher—to lead men astray.

More importantly, such a ruse would divert Balor as well.”

“He seems to be hot on the right trail now.”

“True. Which makes our finding the sword before he does crucial. Fate protected

the spear. Let‟s hope she does the same for us.”

Sophie gave him a skeptical look. “I‟m sure your friend used some kind of logic

to know where to look next?”

“Yes, but only because circumstances were aligned to do so.”

“Huh?”

Michael smiled. “Sara and Lucus were at the historical center at Roanoke when a

lady from Maine overheard them discussing the symbolism of rose windows perched as

near to heaven as could be had in European cathedrals and asked if they‟d like to see one here in the United States.” Michael paused. Fate or Destiny, but I believe that woman was there for a reason. To get them to the cathedral in Maine.”

Sophie wondered again at Michael‟s mental stability. This all sounded way too

metaphysical and mystical to her. Could she really be so physically attracted to Michael if he were insane? Right now, she wanted nothing more than to slither—
slither
!—up against him in that small compact space and hush his words by kissing him senseless.

That wide, full mouth of his would be so good for something other than
talking
. God, maybe she was the one not playing with a full deck anymore—Tarot or otherwise. She

had sworn off men and here she was, practically oozing estrogen out of every pore.

“Then what happened?” she managed to ask.

“They arrived in the midst of a late n‟easter. Lightening cracked an ancient oak—

the druid‟s tree—and the spear was buried inside the trunk. Sara sounded so happy when

she called with the news.” He shrugged. “Fate or Destiny? They were meant to find that spear before Adam Baylor did.”

Well, Michael certainly believed his tale. That much Sophie could tell. And the

manuscript was real. She had seen and read it. And even if she wasn‟t sure she believed SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 39

this Adam Baylor had supernatural powers, if he was supporting terrorism, that was

reason enough to look for this sword, especially if it did have some sort of polarizing

energy force.

“So how do you know the sword is in the South? Which, I might add, is a fairly

large expanse of land.”

“Such a skeptic. The
logical
place to look for the sword is in the south.”

Maddeningly he stopped talking and she wanted to rail at him to tell her straight