“Have you seen Julian since yesterday?” Lucan asked.
“Nay. He made an appearance in the lounge last eve, but disappeared soon after.” Caradoc forked eggs into his mouth. He let out a satisfied grunt. “I had forgotten how nice breakfast could be until Anne and her menus reminded me. This, however, puts even her new cooks to shame.”
Lucan gave the plate a disbelieving squint. “’Tis eggs.”
Caradoc’s gaze drifted out the window. More quietly he added, “’Tis Europe. And I have missed her.”
Aye, they all missed their motherland. ’Twas where they had laid their roots, sowed their youthful oats, and spilled blood all in the name of leaders now forgotten. A simpler time, in many ways. But Lucan suspected ’twas more than nostalgia that put the sadness in his brother’s eyes. More likely, ’twas the last time he had traveled to their homeland and met the dark-haired beauty called Isabelle.
Finding his seraph would do much to combat Caradoc’s suffering. Lucan clapped Caradoc’s shoulder, squeezed in reassurance. “We will search for yours when this business with the Veronica is over.”
A veil passed over Caradoc’s face, disguising whatever thoughts lurked in his head. He drank from his mug and summoned a brief smile. “You are off to Picardie with Chloe?”
Lucan blinked. He had told no one. “How did you know?”
Chuckling, Caradoc shook his head. “Mikhail informed me last eve when I told him the sample you collected was en route. He bade me to ask you to retrieve a package for me.”
“Aye?” Lucan gave into a grin. “Mayhap the search begins soon.”
“Nay. ’Tis research from Anne, regarding the final disposition of what was once known as Asterleigh.”
“You seek to find those who own your holdings?”
Again, the grim lines pulled across Caradoc’s face. “Nay,” he answered quietly. “I seek to say good-bye. I shall not return to Europe again.”
A chill drifted through Lucan at the pointed reference to their rapidly deteriorating souls. He had done his best to ignore his brother’s pain, for with each day it became greater, and Caradoc drifted closer to transformation. But in his words, Lucan read resignation. The final acceptance his fate had reached a bitter end.
Unable to stomach the thought of losing one he was so close to, Lucan swallowed hard. “You do not know such. ’Tis still time enough to find your seraph.”
Caradoc rose as the waiter wove his way through the tables, carrying Lucan’s order. “I do not want her, Lucan. ’Tis unfair to ask her to heal what she cannot.” He left the table as the waiter set down a small bag and two travel cups of coffee, leaving Lucan unable to follow.
Lucan paid for his order, determined not to allow Caradoc’s morose mood to infect his good humor. He quickly fled the table and hurried back to his room. Inside, he smiled at the still-sleeping Chloe and set his things on the table near the door. A chuckle possessed him as he viewed the room from a distance. What remained of their dinner, the wineglasses near the bed, the tangled bedding itself—would that the night had turned out the way it surely would appear to the maid.
He crossed the room and crawled over Chloe to straddle her thighs with his knees. Bending over her, he touched his lips to hers. “’Tis morn, my sweet.”
When she did not immediately stir, the devilish side of his nature reared its dark head. He trailed a solitary fingertip down her neck. Pushing the quilt aside, he delved deeper, traced the soft rise of her breast above the thin scrap of lace. Her breast tightened with goose bumps, the rosy nipple beneath the lace hardening into a stiff bud. He glanced up at her face, studied her for signs of wakefulness as he lowered his head and closed his mouth around the pert nub. The lace scraped against his tongue as he gently suckled.
Chloe stirred beneath him. She turned her head to the opposite side, shifted a leg. Her lips parted with a quiet murmur, but she did not open her eyes.
Lucan fought the rise of his own desire and tightened his fingers into the sheets at her shoulders, determined not to answer the call of arousal. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed the tip of his tongue to her opposite breast. He grazed his teeth over the covered nipple there, then closed his eyes and drew it between his lips. Her scent swamped his awareness. Light and flowery, it enticed more than the warmth that ebbed off her body. All feminine. All her.
If he could but change things. Transform this waking into a lover’s impassioned embrace. Feel her arms slide around his waist and urge him to lower his body into hers …
Her fingers glided through his hair. Gentle pressure on his head pressed his mouth harder to her breast. “What are you doing?” Chloe murmured thickly.
Regretting that he must release her, he let her nipple slide from his lips and lifted his head with a playful grin. “’Tis time for you to leave my bed or stay in it through the day.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a husky laugh. Rocking back to his heels, he gathered her in his arms and drew her upright. “I brought you breakfast.”
She gave him a scolding glance. “You’re spoiling me.”
“Aye, and I intend a full day of it.” He retrieved their breakfast from the table, passed her a coffee, and deposited the bag in her lap. On observing her lack of clothing, he thought better of breakfast in bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor. Tossing it into her lap as well, he grinned. “Lest you wish a different sort of spoiling, ’tis best you dress.”
Amber eyes widened with false innocence. “My lack of clothing bothers you?”
He grunted. “’Twould not under different circumstance.”
“Circumstance like?” She slid her arms into the shirt and drank her coffee.
Lucan gave her a perturbed frown. “Do not play games. You well know what I speak of.”
As if she had said naught at all, she plied open the bag and let out a squeak of delight. “Blueberry! My favorite!”
Her simple display of pleasure softened the growing tension in Lucan’s body. Unable to help himself, he chuckled at her exuberance and perched on the edge of the mattress. Taking up one of the cinnamon Danishes, he asked, “How would you feel about a trip to Picardie today? I must go there to pick up a package for Caradoc.”
“Today?” she asked around a mouthful. Shaking her head, she protested, “The sun’s out, the site will thaw, and my team can get a lot of work done. I can’t.” She swallowed, waited a beat, and added, “But maybe we could sneak in a movie after.”
The boon was tremendous, and Lucan bit back immediate acceptance. No matter how he would enjoy seeing his first movie with Chloe, he sought something more important. Something only Picardie could yield, and he had anticipated her argument. As such, he had anticipated the numerous ways to combat it. He took a bite, chewed, then countered, “’Tis one day. How long has it been since you have indulged in something unrelated to work?”
As expected, she hesitated. Chewing more slowly, she turned the Danish over as if she inspected it for flaws. “Awhile.”
“And if I told you that in your excavation you will find naught of significance beyond the Veronica?”
With another sip of coffee, she swallowed. “How would you know?”
He shrugged, choosing to make no mention of Alaric le Goix’s Templar past. “The Church has known about the site for centuries. All that is buried there is documented deep in the catacombs.”
“Which blows my mind. I still don’t understand why, if that relic is what you say it is, you’ve left it in the ground for so long and let it essentially disappear.”
“In time, you will understand.” He tore off a chunk of warm pastry and popped it into his mouth. “Will you accompany me?”
* * *
The fluffy Danish lodged in Chloe’s throat. A day to forget about everything but a little bit of fun. With Lucan. Away from Julian’s prying eyes and mistrusting remarks.
She’d like nothing more.
But a full day with Lucan was exactly what she sought to avoid. Particularly after
the last several hours in his company. She needed time to think. Away from him, where she could sort her thoughts and figure out exactly what she wanted. Or didn’t want. Already, the lines blurred. They slept like lovers. Talked like lovers. Touched like lovers. But they weren’t. Not in the true sense. And she couldn’t continue to lead him down a path when she didn’t know the destination. She wanted him; she didn’t want him—hot and cold a man would quickly lose patience with.
No, she didn’t dare bail on her team for a few frivolous hours of play. She couldn’t continue to play games with Lucan and keep him teetering on the edge. Maybe if he went without her, she might find the answers she needed.
“I’m sorry, Lucan. I can’t. It’s just not a good day to evade work.”
“’Tis too bad,” he commented with a one-shoulder shrug. Sliding off the bed, he set his coffee on the nightstand, then went to the dresser to pull out a pair of faded blue jeans. “I thought you might enjoy a day of freedom from the things that haunt you.”
Her pastry halfway to her mouth, Chloe froze. Her gaze riveted on his broad shoulders. Freedom from the demons … Could he? She stopped the budding hope with a grimace. No, he couldn’t. Eight years she’d suffered their presence. He couldn’t just shoo them away in a matter of hours. “That’s impossible. They never leave.”
He caught her gaze in the mirror and held it. “’Tis possible. I promise. You will not notice them one bit.”
His pledge was fantastic. Too fantastic to be true. Yet, a near-decade of torment refused to let go of the flickering hope that maybe he knew something all the others didn’t. Maybe he had a charm to ward them off and keep them away. For that, she’d risk everything. “Okay.”
The smile that spread across his face trumpeted victory. Damn it all, he’d known she wouldn’t be able to resist. Once again, he’d said the right words, and she’d fallen right into his strategic trap. The man was good. Too good.
Grumbling to herself, she polished off the last of her Danish and took a gulp of her coffee. He understood her entirely too well. Time to solve that problem. “We need to set some ground rules though.”
“Aye?”
Chloe nearly choked on her coffee as he shucked his sleeping pants without a care in the world. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block the fabulous view before she couldn’t forget it. No luck—fantastically tight buttocks and firm thighs appeared on the back of her eyelids. Her heart jumped, and a delightful warmth skittered through her veins.
Ground rules indeed.
Cracking open one eye, she found him fastening his fly. Dimly it occurred that she hadn’t seen boxers or briefs come out of his drawer. But before she could fully consider whether he’d had time to don them or not, she shoved the thought aside.
“Yes. No touching and no kissing.”
Lucan leaned a hip on the dresser and folded his arms over his chest. A wry smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I cannot promise such.”
Chloe blinked rapidly. She opened her mouth to protest, to somehow cry foul, but words eluded her. At a complete loss, she spluttered something unintelligible.
His chuckle sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. Amused. What had gotten into him this morning? This was the side of him she’d expected that first night, when he’d caught her giving him an appreciative once-over. The side that hinted at naughtiness. Nothing like the gentleman he’d been the last few days. Had last night changed him? Given him the assumption more lay between them?
“Chloe, do you intend to dress? Or will you sit there all morning and fight for boundaries we have both already crossed?” He tugged a brick red shirt over his head that did nothing to hide the definition in his well-toned muscles. “I am spending the day with you, away from all the stress of duty. I intend to enjoy myself.” Turning, he gave her a meaningful look. “I expect you to do the same.”
She told herself she slid from beneath the quilt without argument because her curiosity demanded she discover whether he could indeed keep demons away, not because she liked the idea of not having to play by rules. Certainly not because the fleeting thought of Lucan smashing through all her protective barriers and forcing her to admit she wanted this thing between them held great appeal.
And absolutely not because the casual way he undressed in front of her suggested they already shared a deeper intimacy than she cared to admit.
She pulled on her clothes from the day before and rested her hands on her hips. “I need clean clothes and a shower.”
“Clean clothes you shall have.” He swept one hand toward the door, inviting her to go before him as he picked up their coats with the other. “Shower we do not have time for.”
Great. An entire day with Lucan and she couldn’t even clean up first. Muttering her displeasure, she yanked open the door.
In the hall, Lucan caught her by the wrist and dragged her to an abrupt halt. He turned her around so she had no choice but to look up at him and leaned in, his forehead inches from hers. “Cease your anger. I much prefer your smile.” As his broke free, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “’Tis too pretty to keep it hidden away.”
To her shame, her resistance wobbled. No way could she resist compliments like that. Nor could she ignore the sincerity that warmed his gray eyes. With a sigh from the depths of her soul, she surrendered the annoyance that allowed her to keep him at a distance. “Fine,” she whispered, hating that he could win her over with so little effort.
CHAPTER 25
“What is it, exactly, that we’re doing in Picardie?”
Navigating the winding road that ran through the French countryside and led to the region in question, Lucan chuckled to himself. He had wondered when Chloe would ask. For the last hour she had chattered about everything except where they were going and what they intended to do. Now, as the medieval hilltop town of Laon rose above the trees, she leaned forward to squint through the windshield.
“I have some errands to attend to in Laon.”
“Oh.” Curiosity satisfied, she fell back in her seat and resumed their previous discussion. “So I was thinking about this le Goix fellow. Since I’m excavating what is evidently his holdings, do you think we might uncover him?”
Lucan choked down a cough. “Nay.”’Twould be difficult since the man lived and breathed. Though Alaric would take great amusement in Chloe’s deduction. He must remember to share this story.
“Damn,” she muttered. “A real Templar knight would be quite the find. Kinda like that site in Languedoc a few years ago. Did you know about that? The knight found with all his regalia and a large collection of gold and relics?”
The unexpected memory hit Lucan with such force he could not find words. He tightened his grip on the wheel to squeeze the vivid remembrance of attack from his mind.
Chloe continued musing aloud, oblivious to his tense posture. “If le Goix was there with the Veil, that would prove without a doubt the Templars not only found sacred relics beneath the Temple Mount, but that they brought them back to Europe and hid them away.”
“I knew of the grave,” Lucan managed through a tight throat. That he had helped dig it, he would not confess. Nor would he share how the items buried with Gervais St. Soisson brought his early death. But the scene played in his mind as vividly as the day he had lost his brother in arms. Dark knights pouring from the trees, their ebony armor as black as the starless sky above. Horrific beings, transformed men who had once stood at his side. Their screams echoed in Lucan’s head, despite the passing of centuries.
’Twas the first time he had battled the fallen Templar. He would never forget the brief flicker of remorse that had passed behind Gervais’ eyes as his blood ran down Lucan’s arm.
“I wonder who he was. What brought him to France—they didn’t find architectural ruins like we have. He must not have lived there.”
“He lived near Soisson.”
“Oh?” Chloe’s voice perked with keen interest. “I didn’t read any follow-up publications. Did they determine
who he was?”
“Aye, Gervais St. Soisson. Born in the latter part of the twelfth century. He was—” Lucan caught himself before he admitted more than archaeological skills could uncover. Avoiding the explanation Gervais had been traveling to bid his family adieu, Lucan covered his slip of the tongue. “They suspect he was traveling when an accident befell him.”
“Someone had to bury him, though. The villagers? That doesn’t make sense. Anyone would have taken the treasures they found in the grave. Nor does it make sense that the Templar would bury him and leave both the treasure and his shield to identify him.”
Lucan navigated a tight turn with clenched teeth. Whilst she merely mused aloud, her words sliced him into pieces. They had fought many battles together. Taken their immortal oaths side-by-side. Gervais rose to greatness, his honor and devotion more pure than many, even, sadly, Lucan’s. All this Chloe should know. Her birth dictated that right. But tell her?
He ground his teeth together more harshly. Aye. Tell her. ’Twas why he brought her on this journey today—to share more of the truths and give her the ability to reconcile her find in Ornes with the Veronica and her immortal calling.
“Gervais attained the status of grand master within the Templar. You will not find his name in recorded history, his tenure was so short. Three days he held the position. On the third, he was attacked for the relics he carried.” He frowned in attempts to block the memory from taking life once more. He could not tell her how he had stood less than a foot away as a dark knight speared Gervais through the heart. Nor could he elaborate on how he had held his brother close, listening to the last prayer rattle off his lips.
He swallowed, feeling once again the way Gervais’ blood soaked into his clothes and wetted his skin. “His wounds were mortal. He was given an honorable burial, the relics left beneath the ground for protection—as with the Veronica.”
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