Immortal Trust (17 page)

He drew her close to his side, sheltering her with his very nearness, but didn’t look at her as he asked, “What is it you are afraid of?”

Demons.
It sounded ridiculous even to her ears, and she knew the truth. She shook her head. “We found out about this place because thieves stumbled onto a gold goblet here. Right about where you’re standing. One of them was murdered in the forest when they left. The other turned himself in after his friend died at his feet.”

His fingers slipped through hers, twining their hands together intimately. Chloe gained strength from his firm hold. He turned and guided her hand to his hip. He caught her other hand, did the same. When her palms rested on his belt loops, he slid his arms around her waist. One half step brought his body close to hers. “I will keep you safe, Chloe,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes. He dipped his head to brush his cheek against hers. “I promise I will keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes, longing to believe him. He used the right words, the confident comforting tone of voice. No one had offered anything of the sort, not even her brother. And yet, little could truly convince her. Lucan had no idea what he spoke of. No clue what lurked there in the trees. He couldn’t defend her any more than she could protect herself. No one could.

Desperate to hold on to the promise of safety, she turned her face in search of his mouth. He gave it without hesitation. Their breaths mingled in the cold, and then the velvety stroke of his tongue against hers warded off the winter chill, along with the ice in her veins. Softly, slowly, he drew her into a protective bubble. The presence in the woods faded into nothingness. All the nights she’d lain awake in horror disappeared into the recesses of her mind. She stood in Lucan’s arms, his strong body a shield to all her fears, his mouth a heavenly oasis where no trouble could cloud blue skies.

All too soon he drew the kiss to a lingering close and folded her tightly into his arms. His breath rasped against the top of her head, stirring her hair. Beneath her cheek, his heart drummed hard. “You are a temptation of the greatest kind, Chloe Broussard.” With a light chuckle, he let her go and stepped away. “Now, tell me what you know of this mark.”

He tapped a large stone block near his thigh where a detailed sword had been engraved into the stone. Nearly a foot in length, the point touched the earth her team had yet to disturb. In the center of the blade, a circular emblem contained what Egyptologists called the Eye of Horus, and conspiracy theorists called the All-Seeing Eye.

“That’s pretty obvious.” Chloe stepped forward to trace the emblem as she spoke. “It’s a long sword. In the middle is a wreath of what looks like laurels, though the carving is a bit crude. And in the center of that is the Eye of Horus. Egyptians believed Horus was the sun and moon. One eye, as only one shone at a time. There are dozens of legends relating to him.”

“Aye.” Lucan grinned. “Have you questioned why this mark would be present here?”

She had. Many times. And along with wondering why Horus was present in medieval France, she’d tried to figure out the sigil next to the sword—a small shield carved with a large sun and two crossed swords.

Chloe traced the engraved stone. “The best I can think of is someone came along and carved it much later. The sword is the only real medieval representation. But the engraving is really a bit too defined and precise for that period.”

Amusement lit Lucan’s eyes as he shook his head. Twisting, he pointed to a large stone chunk that rose from the ground five feet away on the other side of the path. The side closest to the forest. “Step over there. Then tell me what you see.”

With a gulp, Chloe looked to the forest. Slowly, she shook her head. “I’d rather not. I’ll use my imagination.”

“Chloe,” Lucan protested, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “Did I not tell you I would keep you safe? Now go, look at the difference.”

Letting out a grumble that made her distaste known, she trudged closer to the forest. When she stood next to the block of stone, she turned to look where Lucan stood. To her surprise, the carving took on a completely different design. Only the sharp edges of the long blade scarred the surface from a distance, with the sword’s hilt and point fading into mere shadows. The crown of laurels with its closely carved mess of leaves took on a solid appearance, forming a rather plain circle. And within it, the Eye of Horus was no more than a large irregularly shaped blob.

She blinked, shook her head in disbelief, and looked again.

Not a sword, but the Masonic point within a circle. Holy crap! How could she have missed something so obvious? She’d walked past that portion of a wall at least fifty times, if not more.

All concerns about the forest and the creatures within it fled her mind as she hurried back to Lucan. “How did you know that? Why is that
here
?”

He merely smiled and tapped the center emblem once again. “Laurels you said? What if I were to tell you ’twas briars?”

A chill raced down her spine as she looked to where the point of the sword met the ground. Though the earth lay undisturbed and flat beneath the tilted portion of a crumbled wall, two feet away, a crater marked the place they had uncovered the Veronica. If it were physically possible to straighten the toppled stone, the sword would point directly to the hole.

Too coincidental to be anything but deliberate.

“It’s a marker,” she exhaled.

Lucan confirmed with a slow nod. “You will find the same on any place significant to the Templar. ’Twas a design instilled to guide those who pledged service to the safe harbors of their brethren during a time of persecution.”

“That can’t be that old. It’s too … too perfect to be carved with anything but modern tools.”

He quirked that damnable eyebrow. “Is it? Were the Templar not master masons as well? I would date these marks as early sixteenth century.”

Chloe shook her head. She didn’t know all the intricacies of medieval history, but she knew enough to know what he proposed couldn’t be possible. “You can’t mean that a society that vanished in the fourteenth century still existed two hundred years later. Someone would have said something or written down an encounter that survived through time. With all the research that’s been done on the Order, someone would have discovered that.”

“Lest they did not wish to be discovered.” He gave her a look full of meaning. “Recall, ’twas not until the sixteenth century when education spread throughout Christendom.”

Meaning, the majority of the populous would still record events with rudimentary pictures and markers like the sword.

Curiosity piqued, Chloe tapped the shield sigil beside the sword. “And this one? What is it? I’ve tried to figure it out at least a dozen times.”

“That one you will not find in any reference books.” Lucan set his fingertip beneath a rune in the top left corner. “’Tis an
A.
And this,” he slid his finger to the opposite corner, “A
G.
Knowing what I have told you, what is the likely answer?”

Her brows tugged together, uncomfortable with where he was leading her. “Alaric le Goix?”

“Aye. And this…” He traced the outline of two crossed swords. “What would you suspect they represent?”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. What he spoke of was too fantastic to be true. If Alaric had been here after the Inquisition’s persecution, the magnificent carving had to have been crafted in the 1300s. But no mark she’d ever witnessed, and no artifact she’d ever set her hands on, had such exact lines. For all intents and purposes, the shield Lucan was touching couldn’t have been much older than a hundred years. If even that.

“That’s just not possible. The Templar order was dissolved in 1312.”

“If you were to tilt the swords, what would you have, Chloe?”

She squinted, unwilling to discover the answer, yet unable to curb her curiosity. Rotating the swords in her mind, she visualized the scene. They would sit at perfect right angles. The hilts would form the flared ends of horizontal bars. And as she looked closer, each point bore a hook that would also fashion it in a similar style—the same cross that hung around Lucan’s neck.

“And this.” Lucan tapped two raised hills beneath the sword hilts. “Represents knowledge. ’Tis either stone tablets placed side by side, or an open book—the meaning is the same.”

He looked up briefly, gave her a warm smile, and tapped the final object on the shield, a detailed sunburst. “Do the Egyptians not refer to Ra as
hidden light
?”

Chloe’s head began to pound with the effort of tying all Lucan’s loose ends together. Knights Templar, Egypt, and hidden relics—why? None of it made sense, least of all how a man who only had access to historical documents could know such intricacies about an order of knights that people who’d spent decades studying couldn’t answer.

“How, Lucan?”

“How what?”

She tossed her hands in the air exasperated. “How do you know all this? And what’s it have to do with that medallion in the trunk that so neatly matches yours?” Pushing her hair away from her eyes, she frowned at him. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

The crunch of gravel beneath tires brought him to his feet. “I am not trying to tell you anything. ’Tis simple fact about objects you have discovered. All of which relate to the Veronica. Which,” he gestured at the slowing SUV, “we must now collect samples from.”

“No. I want to know what I’m missing. Where did you learn these things? I’m not an expert in the Middle Ages, but I’ve worked with plenty of men who were. My mentor is one. Julian as well. No one knows the things you claim.”

For several never-ending seconds, his gaze searched her face as if he debated confiding something else. Then, his brows dipped ever so slightly, and he subtly shook his head. “By the time we have the dates on the cloth, all you wish to know, you shall.” He caught her hand in his. “For now, ’tis time to leave. The sun sets.”

She looked up at the sky, surprised the sun had set so quickly. Tiny stars pricked through the dull winter gray. Good grief, she’d been so consumed by his fascinating discussion on the engravings, she hadn’t even noticed the descent of nightfall. He’d done it again—made her completely forget about her fears. Erased the presence of the demons.

But now, as she took in her surroundings and observed the utter quiet in the trees, the presence engulfed her with malice. A rustle in the shadows made her jump forward, dismissing all thoughts of protesting his suggestion they should leave.

Lucan escorted her to the waiting vehicle at a brisker pace than usual. He waited until she climbed into the backseat before locking her door for her and shutting it tight. He slid into the passenger’s seat and acknowledged Caradoc with a short nod. “Let us depart this place.”

Chloe couldn’t think of any better instruction. She sank into her seat in an attempt to make herself small and unnoticeable to the demons that lurked in the dark. Maybe if they didn’t see her, they wouldn’t bother her. Maybe they’d forget their purpose, whatever it was, for one night.

Unrealistic, but she clung to the hope out of desperation. As long as she believed she might someday get a reprieve from her unwanted guests, she could keep the fear at manageable levels.

As she stared at the back of Caradoc’s head, an idea surfaced. He too had witnessed the medallion in the reliquary. And he’d recognized it just as she had. Maybe she could learn something more from him.

“Caradoc, what’s the meaning of that chunk of silver that was in the reliquary?”

Through the rearview mirror she caught his surprised blink. He looked up, meeting her curious gaze. “Do you know the Templar purpose?”

Excitement bubbled in her blood. Finally someone who sounded willing to tie together the loose ends. “No. Not exactly.”

“Then ’tis not my story to tell.”

Chloe sighed inwardly as her brief hope splintered. So much for answers. Evidently he too shared Lucan’s nerve-wracking riddle-speak. Damn it. How was she supposed to document her findings, especially the Veil, when everyone around her seemed intent on keeping her in the dark?

Rolling her eyes, she dropped her head on the seat back and quietly groaned.

CHAPTER 16

The walk to Lucan’s room held far more intimacy than circumstance should have created. Though he didn’t touch her, not even to place his hand on the small of her back, Chloe couldn’t shake the surreal feeling that their conversation about sigils had been some kind of foreplay, and she walked toward the culmination of what they’d begun.

It didn’t help matters that Lucan aroused her mind as well as her body. His allusions and inferred remarks about secrets of the past stimulated her in ways Blake had never come close to. And the subtle scent of cold outdoors that blended with Lucan’s rich spice cologne stirred her neglected feminine soul.

Caradoc too had unwittingly contributed to her ever-increasing awareness of Lucan Seacourt. He looked at her with the flat indifference a man gives a woman he knows is unavailable. He spoke to her like she had already become a
buddy
. And the way he left their company with the remark he’d see them in the morning, a simple comment overall, came with the firm expectation he’d see them
together.

All of which made stopping at Lucan’s door, watching him insert his key, and entering behind him turn her stomach into a jumble of nerves. She avoided looking at him and sat on the edge of the couch. His room, as spacious as hers, held nearly the same components—a bed, a short sofa, a coffee table, a false wardrobe that housed the television, a desk, and a nightstand table. But unlike the Meuse Valley rooms on the top floor, where provincial flowers blended with modern themes, Lucan’s first-floor chamber resembled the era in which the château had been built. From the intricate molding around the high ceiling and doorway to the bathroom, to the wainscoting and wooden floors, it was all a picture of nineteenth-century France, right down to the four-poster bed with gauzelike curtains gathered around hand-carved spindles. A little feminine for
him,
but nonetheless beautiful.