Immortal Trust (30 page)

Are.
Her brain locked onto the present tense like neon paint thrown on a white canvas. “Are? Surely you don’t believe the legends that the Templar still exist? That was hundreds of years ago. If they gathered in secret, by now someone would have spilled the beans.”

Lucan’s smile faltered, and a hint of sadness touched his eyes. Or maybe it was disappointment. She couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, he didn’t care for her challenge. As evidenced further by his clipped response. “Let us leave this place, Chloe. We have other things to accomplish before we must return to the château.”

CHAPTER 27

For the second time that day, Chloe fitted her hand into Lucan’s of her own accord. A thrill slithered up her arm as his fingers twined with hers. He held on loosely, but with enough possessiveness in his grip to let her know he welcomed the casual link. Slowing his purposeful stride, he matched her pace and gave her the freedom to admire the masonry inside the nave.

Simple designs held a touch of bold elegance. Like the chamber below, the walls sported unlit torches and the floor bore the same mosaic of dark brown and beige tiles. Plain, but extraordinary at the same time.

“Did you find what you sought?” Master Reginald asked from behind a large desk near the front entry that served as a visitor’s center.

To Chloe’s dismay, Lucan disentangled his hand and left her to admire a life-size statue of a medieval lord alone. He joined Reginald at the dark mahogany desk. Bracing both palms on the polished surface, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. His dark hair tumbled over his shoulder, shielding his face, making her efforts to read his lips pointless.

She grunted inwardly as she realized what she was doing. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping. His business was his. What he discussed with his coworkers, or even his friends, was none of her concern. Still, she couldn’t stop the misplaced annoyance that niggled at the base of her skull. Until now, he’d included her on most everything. No, not
most
. When they were together, he didn’t exclude her at all. So why now?

Bending her head, she looked out the corner of her eye through her own long locks and watched. The two men exchanged a hushed laugh. Lucan bobbed his head as if he agreed with whatever Reginald had said. Then, he picked up a pen and scribbled something on an open notebook. Reginald’s smile grew to wolfish proportions as he again laughed. Only this time, he looked over Lucan’s shoulder, straight at her.

Busted.
Damn.

She sucked in a short breath. Held it. Forced her gaze to her feet. At least it was Reginald, not Lucan, who’d observed her not-so-subtle attempt at spying. She didn’t have to spend the rest of the day with him.

The scrape of wood against the hard floor was too much to resist. She cut her gaze back to Lucan’s broad shoulders in time to see him accept a package and stuff it under his arm. He thrust out a hand, shook with Reginald, and turned around.

Chloe reached out to touch the statue’s face, feigning fascination with the artist’s meticulous representation. Right down to the narrow band of metal around the nobleman’s head, no detail went unobserved. The man’s eyes even held a touch of supernatural life. As if he could see her, as clearly as she saw him.

Lucan’s hand settled on her shoulder, startling her. “I have finished what I came for. Shall we go?”

“That was quick.”

“’Twas just a package.” He thumped the padded envelope beneath his arm. “’Twas left for Caradoc.”

Caradoc? How strange. The château accepted mail. She squinted at Lucan. “Why not send it via mail? Shoot, how would anyone know you were going to be here anyway?” The minute she asked the question, she wanted to kick herself. Someone
had
known Lucan would be here today. Her too. And Reginald had avoided answering when she’d asked.

“’Tis more expedient when I am already here. ’Twould take another day or two to reach him via post.”

Must be Church business. Or something related to the Veronica. Maybe an edict to pull it out from under her before their carbon dating samples could come back with any solid proof about the cloth.

She winced as the thought crept in. No. Lucan controlled the relic, not Caradoc. If the Church wanted it returned immediately, they’d contact him.

Shoving her doubt aside, she summoned the brightest smile she could muster. “Where are we off to next?”

“The cemetery and the woods beyond.”

Determined not to revert to childish fears about ghosts in the graveyard, Chloe forbade any reaction but the lifting of her eyebrows. In a calm voice that surprised even her, she asked, “And what’s out there?”

His grin teased. “Something you will want to see.”

Before she could stop herself, she gave his bicep a punch. “Jeez, stop with the riddles already. I thought we were going to enjoy ourselves. Yet you keep making me think.”

The playful lift of his lips transformed into a wry smirk. He bent his head toward hers, brushed her hair off her shoulder with his knuckles. “If you would but hurry, you would find I have naught but enjoyment on my mind. Come outside so I may kiss you as I have wanted to all morn.”

That was all it took to turn her legs into jelly and her stomach upside down. She set a palm against his chest to keep from stumbling forward. Damn, what was it about this man that could zap her senses so completely? One honest little confession, and she had visions of making out against the side of the chapel, the cold stone pressed against her back, his warm hands heating her skin.

“Lest,” he murmured, “you have decided such would not be to your enjoyment.”

“Not at all,” Chloe said on an exhale. He was so close. Too close. All she had to do was lean forward …

As if he sensed her train of thought, he closed his hand around hers, lifted it off his chest, and stepped away. Still holding on to her, he led her through the octagonal sanctuary to the entrance to the porch, where Reginald bid them farewell with a lift of his hand. She waved in return, but Lucan’s determined strides didn’t leave time for words. Before she could blink, sunlight poured down on them, and Lucan turned her into his arms.

But instead of the harsh, passionate embrace her mind had conjured, he cupped her chin with his free hand and tipped her gaze to his. He studied her quietly. Then he slowly bent his head and brought his mouth to hers. Chloe closed her eyes.

Time stood still as his lips played against hers. His breath caressed her cheek, lifting her nerve endings until every fiber of her being awakened to his tender assault. He traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, provoking a sigh from deep inside her soul. Oh this was nice. So very nice. But it wasn’t enough. Too much distance spanned between them. She craved the taste of him. Parting her lips, she invited him to take whatever he wanted.

Lucan didn’t hesitate. He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck and greedily accepted her offering. Slow, languorous strokes aroused the budding warmth of desire deep within her womb. The scrape of his short nails against her scalp, the way his fingers dug into her waist, spread pleasant heat through her body until she became oblivious to the chilly breeze that tickled his hair against the side of her face. But his mouth remained gentle, disobeying the insistence in his hands. A combination of contradicting pressure that filled Chloe with unexplainable urgency. She slipped her hands beneath his arms and curled her fingers into his shoulder blades. Rising to her toes, she pressed her breasts against his chest.

Lucan’s hand slid from her waist to the center of her back. He splayed his fingers and held her in place. Their kiss intensified as their shared hunger for one another bubbled free. Light stubble grazed over her chin. His teeth nipped the tender flesh of her lower lip. A sweep of his tongue soothed the pleasant sting. Yes. This was what she wanted. What she needed. To have Lucan let go so she could indulge in abandon. To know he was as susceptible to her as she was to him.

A frustrated cry threatened to erupt as bliss crashed to a sudden halt. Lucan eased the kiss to an agonizing close and brushed his thumb over her cheek. His chest heaved in time with hers. “Ah, Chloe, you make me forget myself.”

She resisted the urge to thump a fist into his chest and forced out an unsteady chuckle. Reluctantly, she lowered herself to her heels. She nodded toward the thick trees on her left. “There was something you wanted to show me?”

The corner of Lucan’s mouth quirked with mischief. “Aye, there are many things I wish to show you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “But now is not the time, and here is not the place.”

Her cheeks warmed at the erotic images that took root in her head. She fought to see beyond them, knowing that if she entertained the ideas, she’d only clam up again as she had the night before. Until she could go through with the physical act of sex, she wouldn’t tease him, or herself.

“Show me what it is you wanted me to see. Then I think it’s time for a cup of coffee.” Anything that would put distance between them. Preferably a table amid a large crowd so she couldn’t consider whether it was too cold to drag him behind one of those trees and
make
this the right time and place.

To her immense relief, Lucan ushered her down the narrow footpath, beyond a short row of cracked and pitted tombstones, to a slight break in the trees where cobbles gave way to loose rocks and hard-packed dirt. Caught up in the wonder of her conflicting emotions, she followed him beneath the overhanging skeleton branches into the dense forest.

The trail vanished at the base of a gnarled old elm. There he turned right and passed behind a clump of overgrown evergreen shrubs. Chloe picked her way through the snow, stepping where he did, to avoid soaking her jeans.

Lucan looked over his shoulder, catching her mid–giant stride. He barked out a laugh, and gave her a shake of his head.

She froze, one foot stretched out twice the length of her normal step, the other twisted awkwardly behind her. “What?”

“Naught.” He made an attempt to swallow his smile, but his mouth refused to obey. His lips twitched, and his eyes danced willfully. “I would not think one who dug in mud and sand would have such a fear of snow.”

“I’m not dressed for work. My jeans are clean and these are my good…” She glanced down at her feet. Despite her efforts, the hem of her jeans darkened with wetness, and the fawn-colored toe of her suede boots was now a telltale shade of dirt-brown. So much for staying dry. She heaved a sigh. “Good shoes,” she mumbled.

Her intentions foiled, she dragged her trailing leg forward and plunked it into a drift. “You could have warned me we’d be wading through drifts as deep as my calves.”

Grumbling at him did nothing to erase his amused smirk. If anything, it deepened his chuckle. He turned and continued down the path, calling over his shoulder, “Would you prefer I carry you?”

That smirk goaded her. Struck by sheer mischief, she reached down, swept up a handful of snow, packed it as tightly as she could, and launched it at Lucan’s broad shoulders. She missed by several inches. Wet, sticky snow exploded on the back of his head.

Chloe let out a squeak and froze, shocked at what she’d just done.

*   *   *

Lucan stumbled to a stop. God’s teeth, she had not just …

Disbelieving, he turned to find her rooted in place, her hand over her mouth, eyes as wide as if she had just witnessed a demon. He blinked, dumbfounded, as he processed the reality that she had, indeed, smacked him in the head with a snowball.

“I’m sorry!” she blubbered as her own shock fell away. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Lucan swept up the largest handful of snow he could find and lobbed it across the narrow distance separating them. It struck her in the chest, at the base of her neck, sending chunks of wetness splattering into her face. At her stunned expression, his laughter burst free.

But he was unprepared for her to gather her senses and retaliate so quickly. He barely had time to duck behind a neighboring bush before her next missile sailed past the place where he had been standing.

When he returned fire over the top of the evergreen, a full-scale war began.

She took cover behind a thick tree trunk, her laughter joining his as they sought to claim victory over the other. The ground between them became no-man’s-land, and had any of his brothers stumbled onto this scene, they would not have recovered from the shock of his childish antics. But Lucan had not played in eons. Not since his youngest brother had toddled on his heels, taunting Lucan away from chores at every opportunity. And the freedom he experienced, the jubilation that lighted his heart with each laughing squeal from her when he hit his mark, erased centuries of darkness from his soul.

Naught could have made their outing to Picardie more enjoyable or more memorable.

When he was quite thoroughly soaked, he edged around the bush, eyeing her reinforced position behind the tree. She held advantage—he could not clear the distance between them without leaving himself wide open. The laughter that refused to let him clear his head and breathe normally gave her additional superiority. He could not cease no matter how he tried.

’Twas nothing for it, ’twas time for his impish seraph to lose.

With one burst of speed, he shot across the open ground. She pelted him with every other stride. His thighs, his calves, his chest were all fair game. And his laughter rumbled louder. Hers rang through the air, giggles and shouts of triumph that satisfied more than any victory bellow.

But when he cleared the distance and darted behind her shelter, she let out a squeak and took off running. Lucan gave chase, lunging after her with a false growl. A deep bank of snow became her undoing, snagging her foot, catching her unprepared, and sending her stumbling.

He could not stop his own momentum. His fingers latched onto her arm in the same instant, propelling her forward though she had nowhere to go.

They fell together in the snow, amusement falling freely from their lips. He pinned her in place, set his elbows at her shoulders, and gazed down into her twinkling eyes. “Surrender,” he ordered, grinning.