Immortal Trust (14 page)

But it was so nice too …

“What happened?” Lucan asked, grinning.

“I refused.” She chuckled, seeing the horrified look on Julian’s face as if it had happened yesterday. “I climbed into my own, only to find the biggest, slimiest frog I’d ever seen tucked into the bottom of my bag. I left the tent screaming, which stopped our parents’ argument, and they found a new target—my poor brother.”

“I expect they were not pleased.”

“Well no, they weren’t. But you have to understand that my family was a little odd. Mom and Dad never punished us like normal kids. Instead of spankings or groundings, they paid us back in kind.” Chloe set her mug down, her heart tugging as she remembered her parents. She didn’t know much about Lucan, but she sensed he would have instantly taken to her father. Her mother would have loved him—if he cut his hair.

“The next day, Mom and Dad convinced Julian that there was a snake in the campsite.” Chloe smirked. “Dad found some old snakeskin and set it on his pillow when he wasn’t looking. He made a point of showing it to me first. They had him jumping at everything. He was so scared he begged to sleep with them.”

*   *   *

Laughter slipped free as Lucan pictured the vacation Chloe described. She spoke so fondly of her family. A feeling he had once shared as well, and reliving her happiness eased the ever-present ache that lingered in his heart. This side of Chloe, this unexpected normal side of the consummate professional, enchanted him. He could see her in youth, happy, free from the worry of her work, and he began to understand how close she was to her brother.

“You said it was your last family vacation?”

Chloe’s smile dimmed. She nodded, her gaze skipping to the contents of her coffee mug. “Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that winter. He didn’t make it to the following summer.”

Lucan’s heart turned over. So young—at least he had been a man when his father met death. The sadness that reflected in her eyes even now struck him with the urge to fold her into his arms, hold her close, and absorb that sorrow. Clearly she adored her father.

“Julian took care of me when Mom couldn’t,” Chloe continued wistfully. “She had a heart attack and died my senior year of high school. Julian moved back home from college and didn’t move out until a few years ago. I know you’ve seen us bickering at each other here, but it’s not usually that way. We’re very close.”

’Twas no wonder. They had depended on one another. More than any sibling pair might. And those close bonds explained how they had come to work in the same field, why Mikhail had said they were inseparable. Damnation, life had been unfair to her. He opened his mouth to offer some means of consolation, but words stuck in the back of his throat as Chloe picked up their joined hands.

His gaze followed hers, looking to where their fingers intertwined. The sight of her nails tucked between his knuckles slammed a fist into his gut. He could not recall when a simple touch had felt so intimate.

With her other hand, she traced a lazy pattern over the back of his wrist. Thoughtfulness filled her expression, words he would sever limbs to hear. “Chloe?” he asked quietly.

She chuckled. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“I am glad you did.” He drew the side of his thumb down the length of hers. “Tell me more about your father.”

As if some unseen dam gave, Chloe opened herself. As she talked, Lucan listened intently. But ’twas what she did not speak that told him far more. Moments of hesitation revealed she did not often share this side of her. The pinkening of her cheeks now and then said the conversation made her uncomfortable on some level, and yet she continued each time he prompted.

What grabbed his heart and twisted it into a knot, however, was the gentleness she exposed. She had helped care for her dying father. Donated significant money to prostate cancer research. Her mother had fallen apart after her father’s death, and ’twas Chloe who became the nurturer, despite her claims that Julian looked after them. Chloe who assumed a parental role with her brother, even as she depended on him.

Chloe who had pursued her career with zest and passion so Julian, who did not share her dedication to their work, never suffered.

The discovery filled Lucan with an emotion he could not describe. More than admiration. More than compassion. A feeling that eluded him, but somehow pulled the conflicted portions of his soul into peace.

This nearness to her, however, drove him out of his mind. The more he learned, the more he found himself wishing he could escape the close quarters of the restaurant. For he began to fear that if her fingers did not stop sliding over his skin, and her eyes did not cease to communicate the desire he tasted in her kiss the night before, he would forget himself, lean across the table, and take possession of her mouth once more.

“Good grief,” Chloe exclaimed. “We’ve been here almost an hour.”

Her hand pulled free of his, striking Lucan with deep regret. He curled his fingers into his palm and slowly clenched a loose fist. His skin tingled where they had connected.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She hastily signed her name on the credit slip that had been sitting on the corner of the table for quite some time. “I didn’t mean to make us late. We should get going.”

Lucan glanced at his plate, the food significantly untouched. Neither had he realized time had sped by so quickly. He pushed his breakfast aside and gulped down the remainder of his cold coffee. “Aye, we should.”

It required all of his self-restraint to resist clasping her hand as she slid from her chair. He tucked the reliquary beneath his arm, careful to ensure his coat still kept it concealed. Her perfume tickled his nose as she walked in front of him, and he clenched his teeth against the sudden rush of heat that infused his blood. God’s teeth, she was torture he could not get enough of.

CHAPTER 13

Lucan breathed easier as he parked in front of the field trailers and stepped into the cold winter morn. Here, although Chloe would be present, he would have the benefit of her students’ distraction. They would demand her time, allowing him to distance himself from the melodic ring of her voice. He could watch, study, and think.

Or so he hoped.

Never before had nine short miles seemed so eternally long. Chloe vanished behind the walls she kept around her the moment they seated themselves in the car. She fell into silence whilst he struggled against the need to reach across the center console and reclaim contact with her hand. She kept it in her lap, however, forbidding the contact he craved. And yet, despite the awkwardness that descended upon them, Lucan sensed something deeper than mere conversation transpired in the restaurant. Whatever it was, Chloe now sought distance.

As she joined him in the snow, he secured the reliquary beneath his arm and mounted the stairs. Inside, Andy, Tim, and Julian gathered around a computer screen, reviewing the photographs Andy had taken the day before. Caradoc and Gareth sipped coffee in the corner near the other three young men who had gathered in front of a small television to watch cartoons.

Chloe noticed the bright animation at the same time Lucan did. Her laugh came short and quick. “Aren’t you three a bit old for French reruns of Bugs Bunny?”

A freckled young man whose name Lucan had not caught leaned forward and turned the television off. “Just waiting on you, boss. What’s on the agenda today?”

Lucan set the reliquary on the chrome-topped table and pulled up a tall stool beside Gareth whilst Chloe carefully unwrapped her treasure. She grinned over the top of the lid at the freckled man. “We’re going to open this after a while. First though, I want you three and Tim to go over to the lab and get the box of things we set aside for Lucan and his friends. Then, while I’m going over those findings, I want all of you to hit the shovels and start getting the snow out of that hole.”

A chorus of good-natured grumbles accompanied the squeaking of leather as the young men abandoned the long couch. On the way to the door, Tim pulled a shovel off the wall. “I’ll start on that. See you guys there in a bit.”

Caradoc leaned over Gareth’s knees and lowered his voice. He looked to Lucan. “Do you wish to stay in here?”

Lucan nodded, but a movement in the corner of his eyes pulled his attention back to Chloe and her brother. Standing at her side, Julian edged between her and the reliquary. His hands caressed the beaded surface.

“Back off,” Chloe hissed softly. She jammed an elbow into Julian’s side and shot him a disapproving scowl.

“Gareth, you stay here as well,” Caradoc continued. “Take the artifacts she has already discovered and load them into the truck. When you are finished with those relics, return them to Raphael. I will stay with the team outside.”

Gareth gave Caradoc a most displeased frown but downed his coffee and accepted the order with a curt nod. Lucan could not fault him for being annoyed. They had been sent to guard. Fight if necessary. Messenger boy was not part of Gareth’s role.

Although Gareth’s sword would be a welcome addition should Azazel’s minions make themselves known, Lucan could not deny he preferred to have the younger knight out of his sight. Gareth served as a constant reminder of the younger generation. The men who had come after the original Templar first took up arms against the demons. The men who had inherited lands the founding fathers—such as Lucan and Caradoc—had been forced to leave behind. Although they too suffered the eventual loss of homelands, what they had enjoyed at Lucan’s sacrifice, and the inescapable reminders of their stronger souls, made working beside the European Templar Knights difficult.

His plans outlined, Caradoc swiftly exited. As he marched through the door, however, his sword caught against the frame, making Lucan painfully aware he had once again left his in the rear of the SUV. Saints’ teeth, he could not wait to have this business of Chloe’s demons over with and his secrets bared. Then he could outfit himself appropriately without worry of what conversations might arise should she observe he wore a sword.

As the door swung shut, it abruptly changed course and thunked into the wall. Kevin and the other two students filed through, each carrying a three-by-three foot cardboard box that they carefully set beside the reliquary.

“Thanks,” Chloe commented with a cordial smile. “Take a pail of hot water out too—you can melt off some of the ice, or use it to get what the shovels can’t. We’ll deal with the frozen mud as we need to.”

“I’ll get it,” Andy chimed as he slid off the stool closest to the reliquary.

The way her students jumped to do what she asked spoke of their deep respect for her, and Lucan felt a smile pull at his mouth. Had she not disclosed all the things she had at breakfast, he would still have seen the kindness in her smile and hear the gentle note in her instructions. But he had heard, and he indeed learned secrets about Chloe Broussard, which made the way she interacted with her students even more revealing. He saw the nurturer, the counselor, the mature woman who wanted her pupils to succeed. She would do whatever it required to see that happen as well.

Whilst Lucan watched the students work, the feeling he was being watched set his nerves on edge. He looked up, away from the collection on the table, and found Julian staring. His gaze narrowed with contempt.

Lucan stiffened. Well he knew that gleam to Chloe’s brother’s eyes. More than once he had witnessed it seconds before his sword speared into an opponent’s chest. It held one meaning, and one meaning only—
enemy.

Because he had spent time with Chloe? Surely Julian could not be aware of the time they had shared in her room. Then again, mayhap Chloe had sought his counsel. Informed him of what had transpired. ’Twould not be so uncommon given their closeness. Did he then seek to protect her?

“Lucan?” Chloe called. “Do you want to see these?”

“Aye.” He dismissed the trouble of Julian and slid off his perch.

“Chloe, let’s get the damn reliquary open first. You can go over those things later. Hell, take them back to the château and do it after dark. I want to see what’s in the golden box.”

Chloe curled her fingers around the table’s edge and straightened her shoulders. Deep creases crinkled the corners of her mouth as she slowly, deliberately, turned to address her brother. Through clenched teeth she ground out, “I’m the project manager, Julian. Enough.”

Lucan met Gareth’s lifted eyebrows and answered his silent inquiry with a shrug. He could not offer an explanation for the discord between brother and sister. But the exchange sparked his curiosity as well. The annoyance Julian had shown Chloe the morning before returned to Lucan’s memory. Chloe acknowledged they were bickering, mayhap something significant divided them after all. A possibility that increased his concern tenfold. He knew firsthand how little family bonds could matter when siblings were intent on possessing something bequeathed to the other. How easy it was for them to hide their intentions behind carefully crafted words. To strike when least suspected.

Chloe’s palm fell over his arm, drawing him back into the conversation. In her other hand she held a silver cross embedded with rubies. Across the horizontal beam, an elegant script read
Christo et Ecclesiae
, “For Christ and for the Church.”

Lucan could not help but smile. “Aye.” He reached over her and carefully pried the top section of the vertical beam open. Inside laid a tiny sliver of wood. “’Tis a piece of the True Cross. Carried in battle across the sands of the Holy Land.”

Gareth gave him a look that questioned Lucan’s judgment in revealing such things outside the Temple walls. Lucan shrugged it off. Chloe was entitled to the secrets. A piece of the True Cross meant little—it could not aid Azazel’s lofty goals.

However, questions lurked in Chloe’s eyes. How did he know this? Did he speak the truth? Her gaze dropped to the silver chain around his neck. Did his knowledge have something to do with the medallion he had shown her?

“You believe that ridiculousness?” Julian snorted from behind them. “The True Cross? Oh, come on, how would anyone in the middle ages even
know
whether it was real or not? It’s probably nothing more than a rumor. One of those false icons that ran so rampant in the Church.”