Chapter Twelve
The flight to Jacksonville had been uneventful even though Lucas had scoured the airport at both DFW and in Florida when they landed. Even now, as their rental car was headed south along A1A toward St. Augustine, he kept looking in the rear-view mirror.
“Do you really think we’re being followed?” Sara asked.
“After what nearly happened to you, I’m not taking any chances,” Lucas answered and gave her a brief smile.
Why did he have to look so seductive? The smile wasn’t meant to be anything more than reassurance, but she could still taste those full, sensual lips slanted on hers and feel him mouth her breast gently, letting his tongue tease her nipple and then suckling long and hard only to lightly flick the taut nub with the tip of his tongue again, prolonging the delicious agony. If only she could convince him that she was not afraid of his wolf, even if it did emerge.
“You’re being quiet. Penny for your thoughts?” Lucas asked.
She felt herself blush. Probably not a good idea to tell him. “Just looking at the water,” she said as she gazed past him to the turquoise blue of the Atlantic. ‘It’s so much prettier that the water on the Texas Gulf.”
“That’s because this has a sand bottom and the other side is mud.”
“It’s flatter, too,” she said. “The Gulf in Texas always has swells of three to five feet.”
Lucas arched an eyebrow. “It might get choppier soon. Looks like a cloud bank on the horizon.”
She studied it. The clouds did seem unusually dark. “Probably just one of the afternoon tropical thunderstorms that roll through,” she said. “The last week of April is too early for the hurricane season.”
Big drops of rain began to fall as the drove into St. Augustine and Sara took out an umbrella as they pulled up in front of the Cathedral Basilica near the heart of the city.
“Let’s see when this was built,” she said as they walked up and she looked at the cornerstone. “1793.” She tried not to sound disappointed. “Too late if the Sinclairs came here in the late sixteenth century.”
“This is the present church,” Lucas answered. “It may be on the same spot as the first church was. Let’s check out the cemetery. Your friend did mention graveyards, not the churches themselves.”
Sara brightened. “That’s true. Let’s see if we can find an ancient oak tree and some rosebushes.”
Again, she was disappointed for there were no trees big enough to be even a hundred years old.
The rain increased in intensity as they took cover in the car. Lucas’ wet linen shirt clung to his body, outlining the hard muscles of his shoulders and arms. Sara longed to unbutton his shirt and dry that broad chest with a big, fluffy towel and then move down…Goddess, will I never stop fantasizing? Then she realized Lucas was staring at her own chest. Glancing down, she saw how her wet T-shirt outlined the mounds of her breasts. Her nipples hardened on their own accord, poking at the thin fabric.
Lucas tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “There are actually three churches that belong to the Basilica,” he said as he quickly picked up the tourist information they had gotten earlier. “Want to check those out?”
“Sure,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound too steady.
The first one they drove past had a modern curved front with lots of glass. “This one is way too new,” Sara said.
They drove to the next one, located on Martin Luther King Avenue. “St. Benedict the Moor,” she read. “Sounds interesting.”
Lucas stopped the car and they braved the weather to make a quick tour of the graveyard, again with no practical results. As they returned to the car, Lucas pointed up.
“That rose window reminds me of the European cathedrals,” he said. ‘One of the earliest ones was at Abbot Suger near Paris in the 1130’s. A century later, when the Templars were established in France, they placed them in Notre Dame, Laon, and Chartres.” He paused. “They always had the windows face west, although later in England, the window in Westminster Abbey faced north and the one in old St. Paul’s cathedral faced east.”
She looked up at the large, circular, stained-glass window with its stone tracery radiating from the center. “The old Roman church dedicated those windows to the Virgin Mary, didn’t they?”
Lucas nodded. “They referred to her as the Mystic Rose.”
Sara shook her head. “The Mystic Rose was Mary Magdalene, not the Virgin.” She grew thoughtful. “There may be a link, though.”
“How so?” Lucas asked as he kept his gaze carefully fixed on her face and not on her wet-shirt breasts.
Really, she didn’t mind if he looked. She wondered how it felt for him to have her breasts fill his hands or if he noticed the contrast between the hard nipple and the soft flesh surrounding it when he suckled. The thought made her breasts feel heavy and achy with need. How could she break through that steel resolve of his? She heaved a big sigh which caused her breasts to rise and was rewarded to see him inhale sharply. Maybe she could get to the man. Better to pretend she hadn’t noticed though.
“Did you know there’s a theory that traces Galahad back through both Lancelot and Elaine’s bloodlines all the way to the Magdalene herself?”
He looked intrigued. “Tell me.”
“It’s all in a book called Bloodline of the Holy Grail by Laurence Gardner,” she said. “Galahad’s roots go back through Lancelot I and II as well as Taliesin, Nascien, Anfortas, and Josephes, who was the Magdalene’s son.” She paused, glad that Lucas still looked interested. “He also addresses the ancient marriage rites of Mesopotamia and Egypt where it was the female who gave strength and power to the male.”
“And your point?” Lucas prodded gently when she fell to thinking silently.
“The point is that the Roman church became male-dominated by the third century, but worship of the sacred feminine was alive and well in earlier times. And it didn’t die out. Mary had a daughter named Sarah who carried on the other bloodline.”
“Goddess worship?”
Sara nodded and looked back at the rose window. “West is the direction of the Otherworld where the goddess Arianrhod resides. If the Templars had the windows face that direction, maybe they were sympathetic to goddess worship.”
“An interesting theory,” Lucas said just as a bolt of lightening bounced off a light pole down the street and the crack of thunder jolted the car. “We can continue this conversation later. Right now, I think we’d better try and find a hotel.”
The idea of being in a hotel room with him was definitely appealing, but even as she thought about the possibilities of a hot shower, accidentally forgetting her robe, and emerging just wrapped in a towel, she knew he’d book two rooms. She sighed.
“There’s still plenty of daylight left. Why don’t we just head north and try to get out of this storm?”
Lucas looked up at the threatening sky with its dark clouds scudding lower. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said.
* * * *
Two hours later, it no longer seemed like such a good idea. Not only had the blasted storm followed them up the coast, but they were now mired axle deep in mud just off of Highway 17 somewhere between Savannah and Charleston.
“My cell’s dead,” Sara said as she tried again to get the power to come on.
“With this rain, a tower couldn’t pick up the signal anyway,” Lucas said as he stared at his own cell phone on the dash. It wasn’t working either. “By the Dagda, I havna seen rain pelting sideways, blinding a mon, since I sailed the Hebrides.” As if to answer him, the wind shrieked its fury, lashing at the rented SUV. He swore softly.
“At least we’re in the ditch,” Sara said, “in case this storm spawns a tornado.”
He glanced at her, a little amused that she could be optimistic under the circumstances. He was thankful she wasn’t the squeamish sort.
“Do you think we were run off the road on purpose?” she asked.
It was the question that he had been pondering. The black car had been traveling much too fast for the road conditions—Bel’s Fires! He’d been crawling along at fifteen miles an hour barely able to see twenty feet in front of the Excursion—and the guy had crossed over the line, leaving Lucas no choice but to put the big car into the ditch. And it was probably due to the protective spell of the shield that he’d seen the car in the first place. He was glad now that he’d brought it along.
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him, her eyes steady on his. “Was it Baylor?”
He had to admit, she had guts. There was no fear in her voice. “I don’t know how he would have found us,” he said finally. That was another thing that left him uneasy. Balor rarely involved himself directly in any sort of confrontation. Yet, he had dealt with Sara himself and, assumedly, killed the two abductors he’d hired. Changing his M.O. made him doubly dangerous since Lucas didn’t know what to anticipate next.
He had other problems as well. Physical ones. The wolf always responded to changes in weather and storms brought out the primitive urge to respond to nature’s frenzy. Even now he felt his blood heat and he throttled the savage howl that rose in his throat. He should get out and go for a run, but he didn’t want to leave Sara alone, not even with the shield lying in the back.
As he looked at her, the wet T-shirt displaying the perfect outline of her breasts, yet keeping the creamy satin of her skin and the rosy color of her taunt nipples hidden from him, he felt another basic urge take hold.
“Do you think we’ll have to spend the night here?” she asked.
His already stiff cock grew harder and his balls tightened. He groaned inwardly. How in Hades was he going to control himself if they were going to spend the next ten hours in this confined space? But the truth was, he hadn’t heard any cars passing. Even if one did, the ditch was deep enough that they wouldn’t be seen, especially with dusk approaching. But he should try. He reached for the door handle.
“I can go stand on the road and try to flag someone down,” he said.
“No!” Sara grabbed his arm. “It’s getting dark and with the rain not letting up, you could get hit.”
Her touch was sending unbelievable sensations to his groin and his jeans were way too tight. Lucas called on centuries' worth of will power and was gratified to feel the wolf retreat. He took a deep breath.
“Then this is it,” he said, surprised his voice wasn’t squeaking like an adolescent boy. “You can take the back and I’ll keep watch up here.”
She hesitated a second, looking deep into his eyes, and then removed her hand from his arm. “This seat reclines,” she finally said. “You take the back so you can stretch out.”
“I’ll be fine here.”
A small smile played around her mouth and Lucas gripped the steering wheel in an effort not to pull her across the console and ravage that sensual mouth. The beast raised his head and pricked his ears.
“I appreciate your gallantry, Sir Knight,” she said half-mockingly, “but I would prefer you be rested. We don’t know what we’re going to face in the morning.”
She had a point. Even if Balor or one of his henchmen wasn’t lurking down the road, they still had to get the car out of the mud. But he wasn’t at all sure how rested he would be unless his cock would cooperate. He envisioned a bucket of ice water splashing on him, cooling him down. It worked a little.
“Why don’t you change into some dry clothes?” he asked. Maybe if he couldn’t see her form so distinctly he could get past this feral need he had for her.
She bit her lip and then scooted between the two bucket seats to where their suitcases were resting on the folded-down seats. He was tempted to watch her in the mirror and then chided himself. By the gods he was thinking like a schoolboy.
“All done,” she said a few minutes later as she emerged in a dry T-shirt and shorts that made her legs look a mile long. Lucas wasn’t sure if the sight of bare thighs was any better than looking at her wet breasts. The wolf growled approvingly and Lucas fervently wished the storm would stop lashing its fury about them.
“I think I’ll turn in. Maybe we get started at dawn,” he said.
Sara nodded and moved the lever to recline her chair, which left her lying back looking up at him. Just what he needed. It was all he could do not to pounce on her as he between the bucket seats to the back. He lifted the shield into the driver’s seat. “Doors locked?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned to look at him. “Give me your shirt. I’ll drape it over the shield. It should be dry by morning.”
Being half-naked around her probably wasn’t the wisest thing he should do. Yet the idea of sleeping in the wet shirt wasn’t appealing either. He stripped it off and handed it to her. The feel of her hand brushing his brought the wolf to attention again and stiffened his other head’s resolve. He sighed and laid down, trying to get comfortable.
Guilt assuaged him. The bucket seat up front was spacious, but sleeping in it wouldn’t be that comfortable. There was plenty of room back here for both of them. Could he trust the wolf not to turn on her? Outside the storm was still raging and the wolf’s instincts were on alert.
“You can come back here if you want to,” he said after twisting and turning for several minutes. “There’s room enough for both of us.”
She peeked around the corner of her chair. “I thought you told me that being too close brought the wolf out.”
He sighed. “It does. But I’ll make sure I don’t touch you.” Could he sound any more stupid? Not since Queen Victoria’s time had he had to act so proper. And he couldn’t recall any Victorian ladies that had enticed him half as much as Sara did. It was going to be a long night.
* * * *
The whip hissed through the air as Baylor lashed the hapless young man that Caldwell had recruited to follow Ramsey and the girl. He lay on his stomach, hands manacled to one of the slants in the headboard, a gag in his mouth to prevent other hotel guests from hearing his now-silent screams.
The leather strap lashed out again, slicing across three open wounds. The man tried to turn sideways then quickly realized the folly of exposing his genitals to the whip.
Baylor paused, trying to remember what Caldwell had told him about this recruit—Carl Landon, he thought the name was. The kid was in his 20’s, virile and smug about his good looks. He also owed over a hundred thousand dollars in gambling debts that Baylor had graciously agreed to pay for him to do this one small favor. And he had failed in such a simple task.
“I told you to follow them,” he said as he slapped the whip down on the bed inched from that handsome face, “not run them off the road. In the future, you will follow my instructions exactly as I give them. Is that understood?”
The young man nodded frantically.
“Good. At this time I want to see where they lead me. You’ll get your share of killing later. That is, if you don’t become a victim yourself for disobedience.”
Carl Landon whimpered through his gag.
“But you won’t disobey me again, will you?” The tip of the whip rubbed against the oldest cut where the bleeding began again.
The whimpering came faster along with a sharp jerks of Carl’s head indicating that he understood.
“That’s good,” Baylor said soothingly, “but before I let you go, I must make sure you understand.”
The young man’s back arched in anticipation of another strike and Baylor laughed. “No more of that. Wouldn’t want to leave too many scars for the pretty girls to be repulsed by. You do like girls, don’t you?”
Carl nodded quickly.
“And not boys?”
He shook his head from side to side.
“That’s what I thought,” Baylor said as he positioned himself between the man’s now-splayed legs and thrust his rod deep into the man’s ass. And rode him hard.
* * * *
Sara murmured sleepily as she dreamt of Lucas’ warm hand sliding under her shirt and slowly tracing concentric circles around a breast, spiraling toward her nipple. His fingertips flicked lightly over it, causing the nub to tighten immediately. The hand cupped her breast, kneading it, the thumb and forefinger pinching the taunt peak gently.
She arched her back into his touch, purring like a cat, and the hand trailed lazily down her ribs and across a flat stomach to lightly caress the curls at the apex of her thighs. She moaned a little and opened them for his fingers to explore her folds, pausing when he found her already wet and then that finger went to work, agonizingly teasing her clitoris with alternating soft and firm pressure, circles and long strokes.
Goddess! She was coming and he hadn’t even inserted his finger yet!
Sara woke as her body shuddered and spasmed in climax. Some dream! She opened her eyes and found herself pressed up the length of Lucas’ body, head on his shoulder, hand on the hard muscles of his chest. One of his arms was wrapped tightly about her, snugging her to him, and the other hand cupped her breast. He was sound asleep. Or was he? In the pale light of a breaking dawn, it was hard to tell.
She let her hand drift downward to where she could see a bulge beneath the briefs. She softly stroked down the length of it, feeling it stir underneath her touch and Lucas groaned. The next minute his hand gripped hers, staying her action.
“You’re treading dangerous ground, lass.”
Her hand was still on what now felt like steel. “You don’t like this?”
Raw desire flamed in his eyes and made them glow preternaturally. For a moment, she had the distinct feeling she was looking at the wolf rather than Lucas and her skin began to tingle.
“Ah, lass. More than you know.” He sighed as he put her hand down on the pad beneath them. “ ‘Tis dangerous to arouse the beast while I’m asleep.”
She arched a brow at him. “You’re awake now.”
He stared at her. “You’ve no idea what the wolf can do if I lose control.”
“I don’t think he’d hurt me,” Sara said quietly. “He didn’t when he fought the she-wolf and he didn’t when you came to my defense with Baylor. And the wolf was wounded then.”
“But I feel him pacing, ready to spring,” Lucas answered. “I can’t take a chance on hurting you. We’d better get dressed.”
“No.”
“No?”
Sara took his hand and placed it on her breast. “You were holding me like this when I woke up. Did your wolf growl at that? I want you to continue what that dream started.”
He stared at her. “You were dreaming too?”
She inhaled sharply. “It was real then?”
“Mind link.” A finger gently traced the outline of her cheek. “Are you really willing to take a risk with me?”
Like she hadn’t been trying to tell him that since Day One? “Try me. You and the puppy.”
“At least, let me take you to a motel.”
“No. Now.”
His eyes blazed molten gold. He took the jacket he’d been lying on and tucked it under her and then eased her down on the makeshift mattress. He removed the gold cross he always wore. “It gets in the way,” he said as she raised an eyebrow.
Lucas slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her with slow, gentle pressure, catching her lower lip between his teeth before teasing her with his tongue. She parted her lips, but he moved upward, raining tiny kisses across her eyelids and cheek and then nibbling on her ear. Sara moaned as he licked the delicate spot beneath her earlobe and then trailed a series of tiny, light bites down her neck.
He returned to her mouth, more demanding this time as his hand pushed her T-shirt up and he cupped a breast. He deepened the kiss as he rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger, causing her to whimper deep in her throat.
Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, fisting his thick hair as she met the deep thrusts of his tongue with her own. She swirled her tongue around his as he continued his exploration of her mouth and was rewarded with a groan from him and a stronger kneading of her cupped breast.
He broke the kiss to lift her slightly and pull the T-shirt over her head. For a moment, he just gazed at the soft pales mounds of her breasts, the nipples already hard and red and waiting for him. He traced his fingertips around one of them, allowing only the pad of his thumb to lightly brush over the taut tip. He leaned down and let his tongue flick over the other one, making both breasts suddenly feel heavy and full. He blew his warm breath over the wet nub, fanning Sara’s desire for more of his touch.
“Please!” she said, “More!”
Lucas grinned. “In time.”
He began a slow, deliciously agonizing torture of her breasts, his hands stroking the sides, then cupping and kneading, while his tongue circled lazily around the aureole of each one, occasionally lapping a nipple. Sara arched her back, silently begging him to suckle her. As if reading her mind, he fiendishly licked his way down her stomach, leaving her breasts achy with need. He reamed her navel with his tongue and she gasped. Nibbling his way up, he pushed her breasts together and flicked his tongue from one nipple to the other. And then, when she was about ready to scream from sheer desire, his mouth closed over one hard bud and he began to suckle. Cream flooded her already wet panties.
He drew on the nipple, long and deep, and then circled it with his tongue before pulling on it again. His hand pinched the other nipple, alternating between firm and gentle grasps. Sara mewled and raked her nails along his back. He pressed more tightly to her side, his erection a steel rod against her thigh.
Lucas shifted his experienced mouth to her other breast and a hand slid down her stomach and beneath her silk panties. His large palm massaged her mound in slow circles, bringing enough pressure on the sacral chakra to inflame an already throbbing core. She bucked against his hand and he pulled more deeply on the soft breast.
By the Dagda, she felt good! And his wolf had made no move, although at the moment he doubted the beast could be any more feral than he felt. He slid a finger between her folds and found her slick and wet. She gasped and lifted her hips. Lucas pulled her panties down and trailed his hand up her inner thigh as she opened her legs for him. He slipped a finger into her hot sheath. The vagina muscles clenched on him. He slipped in a second finger and began to thrust slowly, watching her face as she shuddered in delight.
In a fluid motion, he shifted position, placing himself between her knees. Her eyes opened wide as he spread her legs further and then lifted one over each of his shoulders as he bent down to enjoy his feast.
He pressed her swollen folds apart and took a moment to savor her womanhood. Sara felt deliciously exposed, her legs splayed wide, Lucas’ hands holding her open. A torrid fire flamed deep inside of her.
And then he brought his head down. With agonizing slowness, he licked each fold with long, broad strokes of his velvety tongue. Her clitoris throbbed for him and he circled it teasingly until Sara thought she would explode from sheer passion. He began kissing it, light gentle kisses alternating with harder, longer ones, his tongue never still. Her body quivered and she felt the climax building. Just a little more… Just… OH! Lucas’s mouth clamped down and he sucked deep. Sara’s body stiffened as the contraction took her and then a thousand lights exploded inside her head as she found her frenzied release.
The wolf threw up its head and howled.
She lay panting, trying to slow the beating of her heart. Lucas sat up between her legs and lowered her thighs to his. He tilted his head. “How did I do?”
For a moment she was tempted to play it casual and get that self-satisfied male smirk off his face. But he was too good and she didn’t want to play games. “Ask me again when my body stops tingling.”
Lucas grinned and reached for his pants. It took Sara a moment, in her afterglow, to realize what he was doing. She sat up and put a hand on his arm.
“We’re not through yet. We haven’t—“
He laid a finger across her mouth. “The wolf almost burst free,” he said with a sigh, “and that was only in my watching you come. I can’t take a chance on hurting you just at the moment that I would have no control of my own. Much as it pains me, love, we are finished.”
Pain. He had to be in real pain. She could see his huge shaft jutting out, straining to be released from his briefs. “I think you’re wrong,” she said. “I don’t think your “beast” would hurt me at all. But if you’re going to be stubborn, at least let me do something about this.” She laid her hand on the steel-like rod that jerked to attention.
Lucas groaned. “I don’t—“
“Just shut up, will you?” Sara tugged at the elastic on the briefs and to her relief—and soon-to-be-his, she thought wryly—he lifted his hips and let her slide them down his muscular legs. “Let me do some work while you control that nasty, horrible puppy you think might bite me.”
He was beautiful. All man. All hard. His biceps bulged from where he leaned his weight back on his arms. The flat hard stomach, the thatch of hair that was a deeper bronze color than his skin, and his proud manhood that was deep red with engorged blood. She traced her fingers up and down the considerable length of his shaft. She lightly massaged his balls and drew a deep growl from him. The puppy? Her hand closed around his base, her thumb and fingers not quite able to make contact. Goddess, he was BIG. For the first time she wondered if he would actually fit inside of her.
Sliding her hand up and down, alternating between soft and hard pressure, she bent and began to slowly lick around his head. He balled his hands into fists at the sheer pleasure of her soft tongue circling the throbbing head of his cock. When she took him in her mouth and began to suck, his stomach muscles clenched so tightly, he was afraid was going to explode in her mouth.
He lapsed into a brogue. “Aye, lass. I doona ken how much of this I can take.”
And groaned as her only answer was to take more of him into her mouth. Did she really want him to climax this way? In all his long life, he’d known only one other woman who did. But what Sara was doing now, alternating swirling her tongue around his shaft and sucking soft and hard on the head, while one hand cupped his balls was sending him nigh into oblivion. He’d give her one more chance. He shifted his balance and placed one hand on her head, gently tugging it back.
“I’ll be a happy mon if ye finish pleasuring me with just yer hand.”
Her eyes smiled at him as she sucked hard enough to make deep hallows in her cheeks and then she tugged at his balls. With a roar, the beast leaped within him and he convulsed, every muscle rigid, as his seed spilled into her sweet, hot mouth.
When he opened his eyes, she was lying between his legs, her breasts pressed against his groin, her head on his belly. He stroked her hair.
“Did I hurt you? I felt the beast—“
“Shhh,” she said as wrapped contented arms around his waist. “I felt him, too.”
His hand stilled. “You felt him?”
“Yes.” She sat up and looked at him and a slow smile played across her lips. “Like I said, your big beastie is just a puppy. He likes me.”
He stared at her. Now that he thought of it, the wolf had grown quiet, quite content to sit there and loll at him with a doggy grin.
Maybe his little witch had worked magic after all.
* * * *
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that they reached the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site near Roanoke. The mellow feeling of contentment and complete saturation of her senses through Lucas’ sensational love-making had stayed with Sara throughout the day, even with the hassle of getting a tow truck out there when the cell phone finally worked again. And tonight, she had already decided, she’d take that puppy for a real romp. She grew wet just thinking about Lucas’ filling her completely.
“There’s lots of marshland and oak stands,” Sara said as they crossed over Albemarle Sound and she looked at the small dots of islands behind the Outer Banks.
They parked the car at the Visitor’s Center and picked up a map and then began walking along the Thomas Hariot Nature Trail.
“The oaks are old enough anyway to fit our theory,” Lucas said as he looked up at the Spanish moss hanging from them.
Elizabeth consulted the map. “And there are Elizabethan Gardens! This might be it, Lucas! Oaks and roses!”
They left the trail and entered the gardens through a replica of a Tudor gate house. “How very English!” Sara said as they started down carefully tended paths between flower beds. She looked down at the brochure. “It says here that the gardens are a memorial to the Lost Colony.” She looked up in disappointment. “No sixteenth century explorer would have known that roses would be planted here hundred of years later.”
“Let’s look around anyway,” Lucas suggested, “although if someone actually hid the spear in the bough of one of these trees, it could take days, if not weeks, to search.”
Sara nodded dejectedly. “And if it were buried, I doubt we could get permission to dig for it.”
Still, they walked, Lucas craning his neck up toward the trees, Sara keeping her eyes on the ground for any kind of mound or stone grouping that might be a marker. Finally, an hour before the park was to close, they turned back.
“Another dead end,” Sara said, “and we don’t know if Baylor is getting any closer than we are.”
“Hey.” Lucas leaned down and gave her forehead a kiss. “Lose that frown. While we’re here, we might as well take in a history lesson and watch the film that they offer at the Center.”
As they waited for the film to begin, Sara said, “I didn’t see any really old churches in Manteo that had rose windows. Did you?”
Lucas shook his head. “Too bad we aren’t in Europe. You could have a field day with all the cathedrals.”
An older lady with silvery hair cut short turned around and smiled at them. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you looking for rose windows that are authentic reproductions of the medieval ones?”
“Yes, we are,” Sara answered as she leaned forward. “Do you know of any around here?”
“Here? No. I’m from Maine. But we do have a church in Lewiston, Saints Peter and Paul, that has a rose window modeled on the one from Chartres, France. In fact, French is still spoken at one mass each week. The entire Cathedral rivals anything I’ve seen in Europe and I’ve been there several times.”
As the film began and the lady turned around, the fine hair on Sara’s arms began to rise. If Lucas was right and the manuscript hadn’t been written until maybe even the twentieth century, what would be a more perfect American site to hide the Spear than one associated with a French cathedral? A Templar cathedral. Templars had been the guardians and the Sinclairs had provided refuge for Templars and become the guardians. And then the first line of the verse flashed in front of her, obliterating the movie screen.
“Where roses climb to heaven…” How much higher could a rose be than near the lofty ceiling of a Gothic cathedral whose massive spires were symbols of reaching to heaven?
She plucked at Lucas’ sleeve. He looked down and gave her a smile.
“We’re going to Maine, aren’t we?’ he asked.
Chapter Thirteen
“Have we been cursed by Awyr himself?” Lucas asked, pulling his jacket close, as they walked to the rental car in the Portland airport.
“It does seem as though the God of Wind isn’t too happy,” Sara answered. “Tomorrow is Beltane and the forecast is for a late season N’Easter.”
“I’ve had enough of storms,” Lucas answered as they headed north on I-495.
Sara felt that familiar hair-raising tingle begin. “You know, Brianna did predict wind and a storm at sea. I think this may be it this time.”
He gave her a lop-sided smile. “Isn’t that what you said at Roanoke?”
She made a face at him. “Just wait and see then.”
By the time they reached Lewiston nearly an hour later, the storm had come ashore, railing at the town with fifty mph winds and gusts much stronger than that.
If Lucas hadn’t been holding the car door for her as she stepped out, it might have snapped right off. The street was nearly deserted, sensible New Englanders having battened down the hatches early. Still, Lucas took a careful look around.
“No tail?” Sara asked.
“Doesn’t seem to be,” he answered, “but I can feel him. He’s close.”
She felt the presence of danger too. “Let’s hope we can find the Spear before he finds us.” Clutching the hood of her jacket around her face, she stared up at the cathedral they had come to see.
The twin towers with their cornered steeples seemed to pierce the low-scudding
clouds of the storm. Between them, high over the main entrance, was the magnificent rose window. The overall picture was of an eight-petal rose, signifying the course of Venus during her five year transit. But inside the upper lip of each petal were alternating five-pointed stars and smaller roses with eight petals. Five and eight again. Eight still smaller roses were near the center where a five-pointed star was surrounded by a circle.
“What fantastic symbolism to the Divine Feminine,” Sara breathed.
“For those who have eyes to see,” Lucas answered.
Sara looked up at him. “Isn’t that one of those coded phrases the Templars used when wanted to identify themselves to each other without the risk of being arrested?”
Lucas nodded. “I’m impressed. Have you been doing research since we met?”
“I have,” Sara said. “This whole story of Templar treasure actually being real…” She broke off and shrugged. “I’m here, so I guess I believe it. And Baylor sure does.”
“Speaking of whom,” Lucas said as he took her arm, “let’s go inside. It’s one place he can’t follow.”
The view from the inside was equally awe-inspiring. The center aisle was nearly three hundred feet long and at the end of it, in the rear gallery, sat a majestic organ with four thousand pipes. They walked the Stations, marveling at the restoration done to them and then, Sara saw it.
The figure was in dark wood and she wore a cloak over a robe with a coronet on her head. Sara scarcely cared what the statue was called for it didn’t really matter. The symbolism was there. A black Madonna. For those who had eyes to see.
“This is the place,” she said in an excited whisper. “Let’s look outside for the Druid’s oak.”
If anything, the wind had picked up in velocity during the time they had been in the church. It howled with all the intensity of a true winter storm. Lightening split the heavens in jagged streaks and thunder rumbled as they made their way around the side of the church.
“Probably not the best place for you to be,” Lucas said. “Why not wait in the car and let me check it out?”
“No way am I going—“
Her voice was drowned out at an enormous crack so close that Sara jumped. A deep rendering sound followed as an ancient tree to their left split in two. A blackened circle scorched the earth around the base.
Lucas pulled her back against him, even though the huge limbs did not land near them. For a moment they both stared.
A spear stood on end from the center of the tree.
Lucas leaped for it even as a few tourists began coming out of the church to see what happened. Just as he pulled it out, Sara had the illusion that both he and the spear glowed with sunlight. She blinked. The lightening must have tricked her eyes, much like seeing dots when a camera flash goes off too close.
“Walk slowly,” he said as he used the spear for a walking staff and leaned onto it. “We don’t want to have to answer any questions.”
It was a long walk, although the car was parked not far away. Lucas paused before they crossed the street, looking both ways.
“I don’t want to chance another car suddenly careening around a corner like it did in London,” he said when Sara looked up at him questioningly.
But they made it safely across. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief once they were seated in the car with the spear safely locked in. Even though Sara had not carried it, she could feel power radiating from it.
“We need to get the spear safely to Mr. Smith’s deep vaults as soon as possible,” Sara said, “before your friend finds us.”
“The shield will guard the spear,” Lucas answered. “At least for now.” He craned his neck up to look at the stormy sky. “Even if I wanted to drive back to Portland, which I don’t, there won’t be any flights out in weather like this. We’ll get a hotel room for the night.” He looked over to her and grinned. “And then I intend to make love to you. Totally. Completely. Until you beg me to stop…or until you don’t have enough energy left to tell me anything.”
Sara grinned back. “Promise?”
As they drove away, neither of them noticed Balor step out from a patch of shrubbery nearby. He flipped open his mobile. The GPS was still working. He snapped it shut and smiled.
* * * *
Sara had been too excited to eat much at dinner that Room Service had delivered, thinking about the night’s events, but Lucas had managed to finish a thirty-ounce Porterhouse. He had grinned wickedly and said he needed to keep up his strength. Sara wondered if the rare steak was eaten more to appease the wolf than anything.
She was ninety-nine percent sure that the wolf would stay subdued as she watched Lucas lock the door after he’d set their service tray outside. But the other one percent…?
His golden eyes glimmered in the pale light from a small bedside lamp. “Come here,” he said.
She stepped into his embrace, loving the feel of his strong arms wrapping around her. She lifted her face and he bent, taking her mouth in a ravishing swoop, his tongue probing open her lips for deep exploration.
Even as his tongue thrust in and out and swirled around hers, his hands snaked under her shirt, caressing her back in sensual circular strokes. The silk fabric chafed her nipples causing them to peak and strain against the tightly-pulled shirt. Already her breasts felt deliciously heavy.
Lucas back-stepped her toward the bed, unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it off her arms just before they both toppled onto the soft mattress. Trailing kisses down her throat, he kneaded the soft satin mounds together and flattened his tongue over one nipple while he rolled the other between two fingers. The pressure of his tongue pushing the nipple down even as his clever fingers tugged the other one up sent sparks shimmering from tip to tip. That fire only kindled when he closed his lips over one of those tormented peaks and drew it deep into his mouth, sucking gently and then hard. Sara moaned.
Lucas’ hand reached under her skirt, stroking her thigh, inching upward slowly while his mouth devoured hers. She felt him slip a finger beneath the thin strap of her thong. With one jerk, it ripped from her body, allowing cool air to flow across her heat.
He sat up and pulled his T-shirt and pendant off, revealing that bronzed chest with its sculpted pecs and hard abs. Sara reached out to touch him, but he put his hands on her waist and flipped her over onto her stomach. She felt him unzip her skirt and lifted her hips to let him slide it off. He settled over her, upper body propped on his elbows, lower body pressed hard into her bottom. Well, something was definitely harder than the rest of him. She wiggled a little and heard him groan.
“Have a care, Lass. I intend to make this last.”
Lucas lifted her hair to one side and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck and then moved to her spine, mouthing and licking until there was a wet trail that felt hot where his mouth had been and cool when he moved downward to the small of her back.
His large hands cupped her buttocks and he took tiny nips that only gave a hint of sting and caused her already inflamed body to twitch with need. A finger made its way into the crevice and slowly stroked downward, pausing to press very gently at her anus. Sara whimpered in delight as feminine muscles contracted deep in her belly. The wayward finger made one slow, leisurely swipe through her folds, torturing her throbbing clitoris by stopping short of it. She groaned and ground her pelvis against the sheets to obtain a measure of relief.
“None of that,” Lucas said and held her hips still. “I’m not through pleasuring you yet. He plucked both pillows and slid them beneath her stomach, hiking her bottom up. “There. Now you can’t cheat.”
“Wretched man,” she muttered into the bed.
“Careful, lass. This position nearly begs for a spanking.”
“You wouldn’t—“ She stopped as she felt his large hand cover one buttock.
Lucas sounded amused. “I would. But not tonight. We’ll save the games for another time.” He bent lower and continued his wet kisses down the backs of her thighs, pausing to swirl slow circles with his tongue at the delicate area behind her knees.
Goddess, but his form of torture was delicious. Her entire body tingled.
He nibbled her calf muscles and then began his slow ascent upward.
“Spread your legs for me.”
It was strangely arousing, Sara thought, as she obeyed. Her rump was sticking up, her head was down, and she was completely exposed to him.
He kissed the inside of her thigh and she gasped. He nibbled his way upward and her hips began to undulate on their own. “No,” he growled and grasped them firmly. Sara mewled and then her whole body shuddered as he swept his tongue slowly back and forth along her perineum. Dear Goddess, how much more could she endure?
His tongue circled the opening to her vagina and then he plunged inside, still holding her firmly in place. Sara clawed at the sheets and tried not to scream. He was bringing her so close to the edge and yet, not allowing her to come. She felt like an inferno was blazing between her legs.
“By the gods, you taste good,” he said as he flicked his tongue back and forth and around her folds, but avoided the needy clit that would bring her relief.
“Lucas, please!”
“Please what?”
“I need you inside of me!” Goddess, she was going to incinerate right here on the spot. There would only be a burnt outline of her body and some ashes.
He moved up and she felt the tip of his erection press against her swollen opening. “Like this?” he asked.
She tried to wiggle, but his clasp was still tight. “More!”
He eased in about an inch, just enough where she could feel herself begin to
stretch. Deep muscles began to contract on emptiness. She clenched her teeth.
“Lucas! Stop teasing me.”
“But I’ve just started,” he said and she could tell he was grinning. He obliged her by slowly sliding his cock in about a third of its length and then withdrawing, only to slide it in a bit farther and then pull his shaft out again.
She whimpered, a sound between a sob and a scream. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Hmmm. Is this better?” Lucas stroked the head of his penis forward against her hot, taunt nub and then back.
Her body began to spasm as it reached for the orgasm and then he stopped just short of that final stroke that would have brought her to the Big O. Sara growled.
Deep inside Lucas, the wolf responded. He rammed into her, burying himself to the hilt, plunging into her again and again, grinding his pelvis against her sweet ass as she pushed her hips up, taking more and more of him.
Goddess, he felt good. He stretched her and filled her completely, each penetration harder as he rode her, his balls striking her hard little nub on his down thrusts.
He lifted her legs suddenly, bring them across his thighs. The angle allowed him to spear deeper and her body convulsed in one huge, shuddering contraction that spiraled into undulating waves of pleasure. As if from a distance, she heard his roar and then felt his hot seed spurt into her and she exploded.
He collapsed beside her and drew her into the circle of his arm. For long moments, they lay silent, panting to get their breaths back.
“Your turn next” he finally said. “You chose how you want to play.”
Sara gave him a devilish smile. “I’m going to torture you the way you did me.”
“Promise?” Lucas said with a lazy smile.
She leaned down to give him a love-bite. “Oh, yeah.”
* * * *
It was nearly dawn when Baylor eased the plastic card into the door of the hotel room where Lucas and Sara slept. How susceptible humans were to simple spells. It had been child’s play getting an extra “key” from the drowsing clerk.
The damn Templar ought to be asleep by now. He’d spent hours outside waiting for the lights to go out. No doubt he’d exhausted the bitch too. Balor could smell the musk of sex even through thick walls. Still, he brought up warded shields that would keep him from being scented by the wolf. This was one time he’d outsmart the beast.
To his own amazement, he heard the shower running. The bathroom was recessed which is why he hadn’t seen its light on. From the sounds emanating from there, it sounded like they were doing much more than taking a shower. So much the better for him.
He glanced quickly around. The spear was leaned upright in a corner near the bed. To his delight, the ancient shield was braced next to it. The dark gods were with him tonight. The shield would add to his own power for it had old Druid magic in it. He took a step toward his treasures and then stopped, his eye caught by something gleaming on the bedside table.
The Templar cross! The fool must have taken it off while he screwed the bitch. Baylor almost chuckled as he walked across the soundless carpet and picked it up. Without the cross, much of Ramsey’s protection was gone. And, while Baylor couldn’t kill him, he could banish him into a world between worlds. A kind of suspended animation, as it were. This was Beltane. The veil would lift at dawn. Even now, the sky was beginning to display a pinkish glow.
He turned as Lucas stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around him, the Kincaid whore right behind him. For a moment, the Immortals looked into each other’s eyes. Balor smiled and held up the cross.
“Get behind the shield,” Lucas ordered Sara as he lunged for the spear.
Balor laughed as the two scrambled across the room. “I bind thee, Templar, to the Winds of Time. May you linger there forever.”
“Lucas’ hand closed around the spear. “Fly true!”
Balor threw up another invisible shield, this one so thick that the room was filled with a dense fog that even he couldn’t see through. He dove for the floor.
Silence.
His spell had worked. The Templar was gone and, it seemed, so was the bitch. Good riddance. The little witch had too much power for a mortal anyway. They could hang together, not being able to move, for eternity.
The fog dissipated. Cautiously, Balor stuck his head over the edge of the bed. The room was empty. Pleased with himself, he stood and then, seconds later, he bellowed out his rage.
Both the spear and the shield had disappeared.
* * * *
Sara pulled the terry bathrobe closer and looked around. The room—or whatever it was—was aglow with thousands of candles that reflected off of what appeared to be millions of twinkling diamonds. The air was fragrant with the smell of scented beeswax. “Where are we?”
Lucas set the spear and shield down next to an oak table. “I think we’re in Merlin’s cave,” he said, “and he’s not going to be happy.”
Before she could answer, they heard footsteps approach. In a moment a man with long white hair appeared, wearing a midnight-blue robe. A pair of surprising blue eyes glared at them from beneath scowling brows.
“Who dares interrupt my sleep?” he demanded in a deep resonating voice and then he peered closer at Lucas. “Umph. It’s you. What name are you using this time?”
“Lucas Ramsey,” he answered. “Good to see you again, too, Merlin.”
“Merlin? As in King Arthur and the Round Table Merlin?” Sara looked from one of the men to the other.
“Who’s this?” the old man demanded. “It sure isn’t Gwenhwyfar again, is it?”
Lucas grimaced. “Don’t you remember she and Arthur took the final Binding together centuries ago?”
Merlin snorted. “That boy never would listen to me.”
“Would someone please explain to me what is going on?” Sara interrupted. “I feel like I’m doing time-travel here.”
“In a way you are, love,” Lucas said and put an arm around her shoulder. “Balor tried to suspend us in Time, but I must have reached the spear first and it sent us here.”
Merlin shook his head. “It was the shield, boy. I magicked it when I gave it to Galahad. It found its way home. Apparently,” he said as he sighed, “with two uninvited guests.”
“You never did adopt courtly manners,” Lucas observed dryly.
“Hmph,” Merlin said again. “Didn’t have to. You and Bedwyr and Gawain took the honors there.”
“Wait,” Sara said and stared at Lucas. “Are you telling me you lived during King Arthur’s time?”
Merlin cackled. “You don’t know who this is, do you?”
“Never mind,” Lucas answered with a stern look at the old magician. “I’m Lucas Ramsey now. But yes,” he replied as he turned back to Sara. “I’ve lived many lives. A knight of the Round Table was one of them. I was also a Templar.”
She reached for the edge of the chair by the table and sank down onto it. “First you’re a shape shifter—“
“And keep that wolf leashed in here,” Merlin snapped. “You know it always upsets Sophie.”
Sara wasn’t even going to ask. And then she ducked as silent wings whirred by her and an owl perched on the mage’s shoulder, blinking at her with round eyes.
“The wolf’s been permanently tamed,” Lucas said and grinned at Sara. Then he looked back at Merlin. “Since you obviously prefer your solitude, perhaps you’d be so kind as to send us back through the portal? I’ve some unfinished business with Balor.”
“The devil’s own spawn. He’s the one that got my boy killed.” Merlin spat. “But I can’t send you back. Not now.”
Sara hoped her voice didn’t tremble too much. “Why not?”
“Because the portal only opens only once a year. You’ll have to wait until next Beltane before I can send you through.”
“A year from now,” Lucas said grimly. “Balor has the means to find the other Hallows. I can’t let that happen.”
The magician raised a scruffy eyebrow. “Even I can’t manage Time. Any fellow knights still running around that you can press into service?”
“I don’t think so,” Lucas said. “There’s a vampire—“
Sara groaned. “Shifters. Now vampires? Am I going to wake up in restraints in a psycho ward somewhere?”
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. You really aren’t losing your mind.”
A crystal ball materialized on the table in front of Merlin and Sara jumped. The old man reached up and plucked a hair from her head. It would have hurt except the incense that just appeared beside the ball took her mind off of it. If she wasn’t already mad—and she wasn’t convinced—she certainly would be in a short time.
The mage drew her hair through the smoke and then laid it on the crystal ball. He peered into, muttering something that Sara couldn’t understand and right now, she didn’t even want to. “Just as I thought,” he finally said. “There is another immortal in your world.” He swept his hand over the ball. “Look.”
Lucas bent over her shoulder. Sara leaned forward. “Oh, no,” she said.
Michael looked back at her. A white light glowed around him and in his hand was a fiery sword.
Sara closed her eyes and Lucas gently rubbed her shoulders. “I should have known,” he said.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked again. She half-expected to see wings sprout off her friend. “What is he? An archangel?” She could remember a number of times when Michael had definitely not acted angelic. Unless there were serious problems with everyone’s concept of Heaven.
“That’s probably what the Christos people call him,” Merlin said with a sniff. “He’s an Avenger. For the Cosmos.”
“Of course. For the Cosmos.” Sara didn’t want to know any more. Not now.
“I’ll explain later, Sweetheart,” Lucas said and turned to Merlin. “We need to get a message through to him.” He indicated the vellum wrapped around the Spear and bound by a leather thong. “It provides the next clue.”
Merlin glared at him. “Don’t ask me to—“
“You know she’s the only one who can move between the worlds, Merlin. You have to take the curse off Nimue.”
“Nimue?” Sara asked weakly.
Merlin glowered. “I still haven’t forgiven her for locking me in that tree.”
Lucas threw up his hands. “Arthur went over that with both of you!”
“Nimue,” Sara repeated. “The Lady of the Lake?”
Merlin snorted. “She wishes. No, that was Vivian. Nim was always too flighty.”
“Nim,” Sara said and looked at Lucas as understanding dawned. “Not my Nim?”
“Afraid so, Love,” Lucas said with a grin.
“Of course,” she said, “why would that surprise me?”
He brushed back a stray strand of her hair. “Apparently, you have some special powers for Nimue to have chosen to work with you. Or maybe she knew I would come along some day.”
Sara took a deep breath. “About that. Who, exactly, are you anyway?”
Merlin snorted. “Meet Lancelot.”
Sara stared. “Lancelot? But you loved Gwenhwyfar—”
“Not in the way you think,” he answered. “I’m the man who’s going to love you for eternity.”
“But all the books say—”
“The books have it all wrong.” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I think I have Time to listen,” she answered and reached up to put her arms around his neck. “Start explaining.”
The End.