by Leigh Morgan
Taryn stopped abruptly just short of the library. Mary Campbell’s voice was clear and precise as she spoke about some kind of treasure. Jesse looked at Taryn, allowing her whatever time she needed to prepare herself. She didn’t look at him for three long seconds. When she did, the expression on her face wasn’t angry, but earnest, almost pleading.
“Can I borrow your gun?”
Jesse laughed softly. Brushing a quick, sincere kiss across her pliant lips he answered her.
“No.” he said, a hand at the small of her back lending support and stopping a hasty retreat as they entered. He was suddenly feeling more lighthearted than he’d been since he found her, knowing that they could face whatever came together, as a team.
In that moment, Jesse knew with a quiet certainty that everything was going to be alright.
One look at Mary Campbell’s face and Taryn knew nothing was going to be alright again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mary was getting into what Taryn referred to as ‘her snooty-scholar-rant’, which wasn’t fair given the fact that Mary was never snooty and always the consummate scholar. But, Taryn thought with a wry twist to her smile that was tempered with exasperated love, parents and their passions will contort their offspring’s view of reality every damned time, having come in second and sometimes third to those passions too often.
“She’s on a roll.” Taryn said, more to herself than to Jesse.
Jesse raised both eyebrows and gave a slow whistle Taryn took to mean he was suitably impressed. “She sure is.”
Expounding on myth and legend in general and then narrowing her comments to James Campbell’s area of expertise, Celtic myth, Mary’s tone was professorial and precise. “There are all kinds of myths and legends in the Celtic pantheon. Some are well known like the myths of Ceridwen and Epona, others are more obscure and multifaceted like the tripartate Morrigan. Some are merely conjecture, the kind of thing that titillates scholars, armchair historians and those searching for a tie to the old ways of their ancestors. Stories that capture and captivate the collective unconscious have always been, and will always be, the core of who we are as a people.”
Shannon O’Shay spoke, capturing the attention of the room. He had the demeanor of a man who had somewhere else he needed to be but was polite in his attempt to steer the conversation away from the land of all things fae. “Your enthusiasm is contagious, Mrs. Campbell, but could you get to the part where any of this has to do with that bracelet you’re holding or the attempt to take Taryn this morning?”
Taryn saw the silver and gold chain in her mother’s hand and something like hot solder seared through her heart as it burned a path to her gut. She hadn’t seen that bracelet since she was seventeen when she had her first and last argument with her father.
That much loved scrap of metal catapulted her back in time. It was as if she had that fight yesterday. Her father had just missed her high school graduation, where she was salutatorian. He’d also missed every swim meet, every volleyball game, her award banquet for student counsel and her award dinner for best nationwide article by a high school newspaper editor. She was seventeen and pissed.
It was the last time she’d seen a charm he’d designed for her bracelet. It was the last time he talked to her about his search for proof of anything having to do with Celtic goddesses. It was the last time she saw that special spark in his eye or that special charge of energy he gave only to his work. It was the last time he shared his dream with her.
Taryn hadn’t realized until just now that something died inside her, and probably for him as well, when he put that bracelet away. She couldn’t have her father back, it was too late for that. Could she have a piece of him, of his dream, or was that dead too? Taryn fought to take in enough air to clear her head, only half listening to Mary’s response.
“Mr. O’Shay-”
He cut her off. “-Just Shay, ma’am.”
Mary inclined her head regally, her body language telling him and everyone else in the room, pay attention. This next bit’s important. “Perhaps, Shay, we shouldn’t stand on ceremony. I won’t call you Mr. O’Shay if you’ll agree to call me Mary instead of ma’am. It makes me feel like I’ve got blue hair and one foot in the grave.”
Shay winked at her and Mary actually blushed. Can this day get any more surreal?
“People across cultures and throughout time have tortured, maimed and murdered to gain access to objects of great historical and mythological significance.” Mary said, once again capturing the attention of everyone in the library, including Jesse who stiffened beside Taryn at the mention of murder.
Jesse walked Taryn further into the library with one hand at the small of her back. He wasn’t pushing exactly, more like meaningfully guiding. It was a battle Taryn chose not to fight, allowing him to guide her to the couch, where she sat next to Reed. He remained standing, tall and so silent he seemed to become a part of the room more than separate from it, his eyes weighing every word Mary said and every nuance of her body language as she continued.
“I can see your skepticism, Shay. And since you are clearly needed elsewhere, I will try to connect the dots quickly by asking you to consider the quest for the Holy Grail in Christian mythos. What is it? Is it the search for an ideal? Does it exist as a tangible object, and if so, what miracles would it yield for the one who possessed it?”
Shay didn’t look impressed. Taryn had heard this analogy before, so it lost some of its punch for her too, although she’d heard her father wax poetic about it long before Indiana Jones or Dan Brown.
“I can see you are a born cynic, sir,” Mary said to Shay, sighing heavily for effect, something her mother did often in the classroom. “If the grail story doesn’t float your boat, then what about Hitler’s quest for the Spear of Destiny? How much mayhem do you think was unleashed in that megalomaniac’s name to find and secure the spear that pierced Christ’s heart? Items of spiritual significance are worth killing for in every culture, in every age. People will always believe in miracles and magic, legend and myth. I used two items from Christianity because those of us in this room are familiar with them and most of us have heard these stories since birth. We don’t question that these legendary objects may well be spiritually supercharged. Why would you doubt that other spiritual objects are worth killing or dying for to possess?”
No one spoke. Mary waited, letting them absorb the implications of what she was saying.
Jesse went to Mary’s side. He held out his hand and Mary dropped the charm bracelet into it. He looked at it, holding it up to the light that poured through the western windows. He turned to Taryn, still holding the bracelet.
“It’s a charm bracelet. Nice quality. But even to a collector, it can’t be worth more than fifteen hundred bucks. Why would anyone want to hurt you for a bracelet?”
Taryn felt the weight of all the personalities in the room bearing down on her shoulders, silently asking the same question with more than a little incredulity. Mary looked at her but was done explaining, leaving Taryn to fend for herself.
Reed’s hand landed almost weightlessly on Taryn’s thigh. She didn’t push it away.
“It’s not just a bracelet.” Taryn swallowed hard, knowing what she was about to say sounded crazy. She hadn’t believed it at seventeen and for the life of her she didn’t know why she believed with her entire being now, but believe she did.
“It’s a map. A treasure map to be precise.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
These people seemed to know a thing or two about treasure and how it motivates hunters. Taryn couldn’t tell if they believed her mother or if they simply thought Taryn was at risk because of her newfound association with the Bennett name. To some extent it didn’t seem to matter. No matter what they believed, they all assumed, or more to the point presumed, they were plotting to work it all out for her.
Taryn stood up. They kept talking over each other, planning, plotting and preparing for how to ensure her safety. Taryn had no intention of allowing a
ny of it. She silently made her way across the library to the door. Jesse caught her by the arm, never once looking directly at her, seemingly mesmerized by something the exceptionally tall head of Bennett security, Henry, was saying.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from here.”
Something in Jesse’s jaw ticked. His navy gaze shot to hers before refocusing on Henry who seemed to be speaking more code than sense. Taryn couldn’t read Jesse’s expression, but she had no difficulty deciphering what the manacle-like grip on her arm meant. She tugged. He held tight.
“Give me my bracelet.”
Jesse held it out to her and Taryn took it in her free hand. She had no intention of staying here or at Jesse’s home, but she wasn’t going to leave without her birthday present from her father, one he’d waited over a decade after his death to give her. She tugged again, harder this time. Jesse held fast.
“Let me go or I’m going to start screaming.”
“If you run, I’ll catch you. You aren’t safe without me and I will not let you put yourself in danger. Not for any reason.” Jesse said, slowly letting go of her arm.
Taryn rubbed her bicep to circulate some blood flow. “Grab me like that again and I’ll draw blood even if I have to bite you.”
Something like admiration flashed across his face before it was gone. “You don’t have the skills.”
Well that hurt.
“But you will. You will be getting some training immediately.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not staying here. I’m not staying with you. I am leaving for Edinburgh. From there I’ll go to stay with my aunt Olive for a few days before I start filming for Magical Britain in Wiltshire. I have to work. I want to work. I have a contract and I will fulfill it. Neither you nor anyone else, not even men in white vans with guns, are going to stop me.”
Taryn didn’t realize she was shouting until the silence in the room weighed her down like a wet blanket, smothering and uncomfortable, something to shuck off as quickly as possible.
“I’m leaving.”
“I can’t protect you in Britain.”
Taryn made it three steps closer to the exit before Mary Campbell’s words stopped her as effectively as running into a wall of concrete.
“If you married her you could protect her overseas. As your wife you’d have the legal authority to get her medical care or liaise with the authorities if necessary. And Taryn would have the weight of the Bennett name to protect her.”
“It’s that name that may be the cause of all this.” Shay said.
Mary nodded. “Yes. Maybe. And if that’s true, you owe it to her to keep her safe. Marrying her will give you more legal rights to do just that. Not marrying her still leaves her vulnerable if your theory is correct.”
“No.” Taryn said. “Not going to happen.”
“If this is about James’s map and has nothing to do with being related to Jordon or Reed or this family, then this means that every treasure hunter, every museum curator, every corrupt private collector with unlimited resources and mercenary intent, not to mention religious fundamentalists of all stripes, will pay anything or do anything to obtain a find like one those charms suggests is real: Some to bring it to light. Some to destroy it. Some, worse yet, to use its magic for their own gain.”
All eyes moved to Taryn and the bracelet she held in her hand.
“What could possibly be of such value?” Reed asked.
Taryn looked at each charm in turn, taking her time. Some were easy for her to interpret, others were beautiful, but whatever significance they held for her father wasn’t immediately clear to her. She chose one she had no problem deciphering, but had every reason to believe didn’t exist, The Druid’s Scroll.
She separated the small charm and handed the bracelet to Reed, charm first, so she could see it. It was enameled in shades of blue and green and red and brown. A blue robed figure with long blond flowing hair stood next to a well, pointing to a scroll that floated in the air above the water. A small flame rose out of the water, but did not touch the scroll. Some sort of fish was clearly visible in the well water and a dark bird was soaring in the sky above.
“I don’t know yet what all the charms mean, but this one depicts a legend, called the Druid’s Scroll, that details the writings of a very powerful female druid. It is said to contain, among other things, a cure for all illness including what we now define as cancer. It is a magical tome of earth worship. It is said to be the key for channeling the divine feminine and relates the history of goddess worship and earth magic, something most establishment churches would like to destroy. It also holds the keys to moving mass.”
Taryn looked at Reed who was holding the bracelet as if it were a sacred thing, and then at Jesse who came to look at it over his mother’s shoulder. Reed’s expression held wonder. Jesse’s was harder to read, but no less intense.
“You’ve heard of the search for the Higgs boson particle?” Taryn asked.
Reed looked up at Taryn, Jesse’s gaze focused on her too, but neither said anything, they simply waited. It was her new aunt, Finn, who said, “You mean the search at CERN in Geneva for the God particle?”
“Yep. That’s the one. Peter Higgs predicted it in 1964, relatively recently as particle physics goes, and scientists still haven’t defined it or how it works with any definite data.” Taryn nodded toward the charm still in Reed’s palm.
“My father believed that the Druid’s Scroll holds the answer not only about what that particle is, but how to use it to manipulate mass.”
“You mean there are magic spells in there that can transform one thing into another?” Shay asked.
“Among other things, yes. That’s what my father believed.”
Jesse took the bracelet from his mother’s palm, kissed the top of her head, then walked over to Taryn, took her hand and secured the bracelet onto her wrist. He kept her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.
“Call Judge Emmanuel. Have him bring his clerk. We’ll be married in the gazebo, by the pond at six.” Jesse said to Shay, who promptly left the room before Taryn could stop him.”
“I’m not going to marry you.”
“You are.”
“How in the world do you think you can make me do that?”
“I’m going to bribe you.”
“There’s not enough money-”
Jesse pulled her to him and kissed her swiftly, taking her air. She pushed at him, but he didn’t let go. Then she started to feel and that was a mistake. The feel of his tongue as it rubbed slowly, mesmerizingly across hers made her want more. So did the softness of his lips, the gentleness of his thumbs as they brushed across her lower jaw, the fullness in her breasts as she felt herself rub against his chest. She was drowning in her need. Wrapping her arms around him she kissed him back, aware of their avid audience, but not inclined to let that stop her from this small moment of peace.
Taryn wanted him, all of him, and she was way too old to pretend she didn’t. That did not mean she’d let him bulldoze her into something she didn’t want and didn’t need. She pushed away, reluctantly, and he let her go.
“Mary said you’ve been collecting donations to build a James Campbell wing onto the Celtic Studies building on campus. I’m willing to make a ten million dollar donation to make it happen,” Jesse said.
Taryn narrowed her eyes at him. If he’d offered to pay her, turning him down would have been easy, fun even, but he hadn’t. He’d offered to pay for making her dream of seeing her father’s work honored and continued come true. The look on his face said he knew how important this was to her. She looked at Mary who had the audacity to wink at her and smile.
“How long?” Taryn asked.
Jesse cocked his head at her questioningly.
“How long do we have to stay married?”
A warm, slow smile transformed his face from merely handsome to breathtaking. He ought to smile all the time, Taryn thought, remembe
ring him in only a towel, still damp from his shower. She gritted her teeth so hard she felt the outer layer of enamel turn to dust. She would not be deterred by her strong need to be near him, to touch him, to…
“Are you growling at me?” He sounded amused.
“Just answer the question.”
“Six months, and you’ll spend the last three here getting to know Reed.”
“Four months, and I’ll spend the last month at your house.” Taryn risked a quick glance at Reed. “I will spend that month getting to know Reed and the rest of my, er, this family.” Taryn could feel her face turning red, something that happened rarely for her as very little made her uncomfortable and almost nothing embarrassed her. She looked at Mary and at each member of her newly discovered extended family in turn, letting them all know she didn’t like this but would tolerate it and they had damn well better honor her conditions or this was one dead deal.
“Three conditions,” she said, turning back to Jesse.
“That’s fine, I have two of my own. You go first.”
That was fine with her. “First: this is legal fiction, not a marriage. No one in this room will refer to us as being married. This is a contract no more and no less. You give me the wing for my father’s work, which will take fifteen million, not ten.” She was pushing it and she knew it. The wing was budgeted to come in fully furnished with statuary, books, and décor at seven million. But, if he was willing to pay, she wanted to make him feel it.
“Done. Next?” Apparently fifteen million didn’t phase him, damn the man to hell and back.
“I am physically attracted to you and I want a physical relationship. You will be at my disposal sexually whenever I ask. I of course will reciprocate when you ask as long as I’m not angry with you.” She waited for the earth to open and swallow her whole, but the earth it appeared wasn’t willing to end her mortifying flow of words.
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. But his eyes twinkled when he said, “I’m fairly certain you’re going to spend a lot of time angry with me. That shouldn’t be a reason to stop me from making love to you. How about as long as each of us is willing, and just to ensure that happens, we will share the same bed every night for the next six months.”
