Immortal Trust

by Claire Ashgrove

  “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.”

  He shook his head. “’Tis not time for the world to know.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she intended to say was silenced by the opening of the door. Glancing over his shoulder, she pulled her hand free and turned her focus on the relic. “Hey, Andy. Take off your coat. We’re just about to see this thing shine.”

  “Sure thing, Chloe. Julian told me to tell you to call him when you’re ready to open the trunk. He went on back to the hotel for something.” He scratched his short dark hair. “He said he left his phone in the room.”

  Chloe laughed. “Yes, it seems he got a little carried away last night and left it behind. Told me he left it on his nightstand after a long conversation with Miranda.”

  Lucan tensed. He had witnessed Julian use the phone outside. Yet he had clearly told both his sister and Andy otherwise. Why would he lie about something so benign?

  “Oooh, Miranda.” Andy snorted. “You’d think she’d get it through her head that Julian will never settle down.” He tossed his coat onto the table alongside the others and approached Lucan with an amicable grin. “Andy Graves, pleased to meet you.”

  Lucan gripped his hand firmly and shook. “Lucan Seacourt, and the pleasure is mine.”

  If Julian set off Lucan’s instinctual alarms, Andy soothed his unease. The young man’s open, friendly expression invited conversation. Enforced the words he spoke. A man with few secrets, and those he might possess were naught to find alarming.

  “So the Church sent you and Caradoc?” Andy propped a hip on the countertop and lifted his camera. As he clicked, he spoke. “Must be quite the privilege to have access to all those treasures in the Vatican’s catacombs. I s’pect you’ve seen some fancy things.” He shifted his angle, glanced over the top of the lens, then snapped another picture. “What’s the story on the Sudarium of Oviedo? I heard someone took it from the cathedral in Spain. Any idea who?”

  Lucan knew, but he dared not speak of the truth behind the attack. ’Twas not a matter for the public to know. No amount of faith, of prayer, or any other Christian practice could alter the fates or stop Azazel’s intention to ascend to the Divine Throne.

  Instead, he chose a half-truth. “Aye, ’twas taken. We work to retrieve it now. I can offer no more.”

  “That’s cool.” Andy set the camera in his lap and watched as Chloe gingerly turned the reliquary inside the basin. “Can you say anything about the priest who vanished? Last I saw on the news they had no leads but presumed he’d been killed in the collapse. Haven’t caught a word of English news over here since we got here.”

  “Father Phanuel has not been found.” Nor would he, lest a search party ventured into Azazel’s realm. The archangel of judgment lived, according
to Mikhail, but no order came from the heavens to reclaim him. Until such a time as the Almighty dictated a rescue, Phanuel would remain in Azazel’s grasp.

  “That’s too bad. I hear the people of Oviedo really loved him.”

  “Aye,” Lucan murmured.

  “Andy,” Chloe broke in quietly. “Maybe we should change the subject. He’s a friend of Lucan’s, I’m sure.”

  At her attempt to ease his discomfort, Lucan smiled. “’Tis all right. I knew of him, but many years have passed since I last shared his company.” He nodded at the reliquary. “Are you finished with the washing?”

  “Yes.” She reached in to lift the trunk out.

  Before her hands could close around the heavy relic, Lucan nudged her aside, picked it up, and set it on a nearby sifting screen. Water dripped through the wire mesh to pool on the tile floor. He spied a towel on a nearby rack and tossed it on top of the puddle, ignoring the scolding that lingered in Chloe’s eyes. Capable of doing for herself she might be, but ’twas time she learned that since she was his seraph, he would not stand idly by when he could lend a hand. He had no qualms with women assuming the freedoms modern laws afforded them, but in his heart, he could not cast aside the ingrained lessons from his youth.

  He suspected also that Chloe could benefit from a bit of spoiling.

  Stepping back, he gave her the space to conduct her work. Though he had allowed her to presume his background lay in archaeology, the processes she went through now were beyond his comprehension. ’Twas best to stand aside and observe, lest he reveal too much too soon.

  Whilst he watched, she and Andy turned the reliquary around and around, snapping photos, jotting down remarks in a notebook, and once or twice, she sketched an image onto the paper. Her idle chatter fascinated him. The knowledge of history she possessed, the bank of names that lingered in her head—’twas like observing a live encyclopedia. Her years before she became immersed in Egypt became clear, and he admired the way she taught in a casual manner, never once asserting superiority over her avid pupil. In return, Andy’s questions came more freely.

  Another awareness infringed on Lucan’s thoughts, however, as the sun dropped from its noontime zenith and the faint gray light that filtered through the falling snow dimmed. The wind picked up, bringing with it the voices from the unholy void. Through the thin windows Lucan caught the hiss of excitement, the murmur of anticipation. And the demons’ ominous presence chilled his very blood. Were it not for the fact Caradoc remained outside, a sentry Lucan could trust with his life, he would have expected the glass to shatter at any moment.

  Why it did not confounded him. The Veronica sat in plain sight. ’Twas no reason for Azazel to not attempt to take it, for even with their holy swords, Lucan and Caradoc could not defeat the dark master. Lest …

  He looked to Chloe, recalling how the presence clung to her.

  Lest Azazel sought subtlety, unlike his strike on the Sudarium. If he had seduced her, lured her into his evil embrace, he would not draw attention to his designs. Until Chloe was oathed, he could infiltrate her mind with ease.

  Grimacing, Lucan tried to dismiss the suspicion from his mind. He had witnessed her fear. Observed the way her expression turned to chalk when the demons stirred in the forest. If she were trapped by Azazel’s seductive power, she would not fear his minions.

  Still, Lucan could not completely overlook her acceptance of their presence, despite her fears. Mayhap she had been approached. Mayhap she weighed her options. The lord of darkness could be gloriously deceiving. And if he had chosen her as his target, he must also know she carried the seraph’s blood.

  Nay. He would not allow misgivings to take root. If Chloe had been marked for conquest, it only meant he must secure her vows more quickly. And he must do all he could to protect her in the meantime.

  Chloe pushed her chair away from the worktable. “I think that’s enough for today, Andy. My eyes are seeing triple. Julian will have to wait until tomorrow to satisfy his curiosity about the contents.”

  Andy drew back with surprise that mirrored Lucan’s. “You aren’t going to open it today?”

  “No.” Chloe rubbed at her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night. My eyes are sore. I’ll take it back to the château with me and lock it in the safe overnight. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.” She glanced out the window where snow fell in thick flakes. “Besides, the weather doesn’t look so good. I think you all ought to head on back before the roads turn to crap.”

  “Okay. I’ll go tell the crew to lock everything up tight. They were trying to cover the dig site when I came in.”

  Standing, Chloe grabbed her coat. “Go ahead and carry that thing out, would you? Put it in the back of the Mercedes.”

  Lucan stepped forward, knowing the effect his words would cause and hating what he must do. Yet ’twas necessary. He dared not allow Chloe to take the Veronica on her own. ’Twas too great a risk that harm would come not only to the relic but to her as well. “Andy, place the reliquary in the back of my SUV. ’Twill stay with Caradoc and me.”

  As expected, Chloe’s delicate face hardened into lines of granite. Her gaze clashed with his, speaking oaths she would not dare to voice in front of her student.

  To her credit, when Andy looked to her for confirmation, she deferred with a nod. But as the young man carted the relic out the door, her gaze narrowed to a sliver of fury.

  Before she could unleash her temper, Lucan caught her wrist and dragged her into his arms. Using her shock to his advantage, he dropped his mouth to hers in a light, lingering kiss. “Dine with me, Chloe,” he whispered against her lips. “Forget the Veronica, my obligations to the Church. See me for what I am … a man.” He drew her lower lip between his, unable to resist a greater taste. God’s teeth, her mouth was soft. Sweet like nectar. ’Twould be so easy to forget himself completely and coax her into the deep kiss he craved.

  Her lips hesitantly clung to his for a staggering heartbeat that nearly knocked him to his knees.

  Tamping down a groan of longing, Lucan released her mouth and sucked in a deep breath. He took a step back and braved the stormy emotions reflected in her rich amber gaze. “I am not your enemy. Say aye?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Chloe shook all the way down to her toes. Say yes. God above, how she wanted to. How she ached to explore the promise of his chaste kiss. Even now, as he stood a foot away and his mouth no longer touched hers, she could feel the moist heat of his breath. Her lips tingled from his gentle assault. And his eyes … Her stomach coiled in on itself as those stormy grays held hers, laden with all the suggestion of what dinner with Lucan would involve.

  But saying yes meant letting him beyond her defenses. It meant crossing the line between colleague and lover and opening herself to a man she hardly knew. One whom Julian didn’t trust. And Julian had sensed Blake’s motives long before they became clear to her.

  “No,” she answered in a strained whisper. Tugging her hands free, she grabbed at her courage. She shook her head and added in a stronger voice, “No, Lucan. You just usurped my authority with my student. Despite your assurances you trust my intentions, you insulted me nonetheless.” Pulling on her coat, she took a deep breath and attempted a final blow that would forever terminate any thought of a less than professional involvement. “No dinner tonight, no dinner tomorrow. No dinner ever.”

  “Chloe—”

  She lifted her hand to silence his protest. “I don’t want to hear it. You just kissed me without my permission. Consider yourself lucky I’m not planning on turning you in for sexual harassment.”

  Taking two purposeful steps toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder and met his frown with courage she didn’t feel. “Now, you have my relic in your vehicle. As long as we are here, I’m in charge of its care. You can either transfer it to the Mercedes, or you can take me back to the hotel.” She zipped her coat with more effort than necessary, nearly catching her chin. “When we do get there, that golden trunk is going in the s
afe in my room. Because, quite frankly, I don’t trust you.”

  The widening of his eyes told her he hadn’t expected that remark. But Lucan refrained from comment and merely gestured at the door, inviting her to exit first. She pushed it open and stepped onto the snow-covered steps. When he exited behind her, she tugged her keys out and locked the double-wide. “So, what’s it going to be?”

  To her complete surprise, despite her lecture seconds earlier, he grabbed her by the hand and twined his fingers through hers. “Caradoc and I shall drive you.”

  She scowled at their locked palms. Tugging, she attempted to break free from his possessive hold.

  He held fast.

  She pulled harder. “I don’t want to hold your hand, Lucan. Turn me loose.”

  As his boot crunched into a newly formed mound of snow, he came to an abrupt halt and swiveled around as if she’d called him out. “If you are not careful, milady, you will force me to prove just how false your words are by kissing you without your permission once more.”

  Shocked, Chloe gasped. She opened her mouth, but words failed her. What the hell? Surely she hadn’t heard him right. He hadn’t just announced he’d assault her again.

  A strange, completely unacceptable thrill slid through her veins. The first kiss had been so damnably nice. A second …

  She stopped the thought by clamping her teeth into the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Good grief, what was the matter with her? She was starting to resemble the foolish Miranda.

  “Do it and I’ll—” The threat stopped on the tip of her tongue as Lucan’s gaze flared with annoyance.

  “You shall what?” He pushed his arm behind his back, forcing her to step closer to him. So close she had to tip her head back to meet his steely stare—no small feat given she stood five foot seven. “I shall tell you what you would do. You would yield, and you would enjoy every moment of it. Shall we test my theory?”