Chapter Five—Foul Deeds
“A wolf attacked you? How terribly bizarre!” Mr. Smith exclaimed as she told him, Alan, and Lucas what had happened the next morning. “And, of course, how horribly frightening,” he added as Lucas frowned at him from across the room.
“But you handled yourself very well,” Alan said with a smile as he stepped closer to where Sara was sitting and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I admire brave women.”
“At the moment, I was thinking more of survival,” she answered and tried not to fidget as Alan patted her arm.
“It might be wise not to put yourself into the path of danger,” Lucas said with a scowl. “What possessed you to go to such an isolated place by yourself?”
What possessed him? He had been cool and detached ever since she’d gotten to the mansion and now he was insinuating that she had been foolish? She wasn’t a child! She stood up and walked over to him.
“It’s my parents’ place. I go there when I need to unwind. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Maybe the wolf was rabid or something.”
“A rabid animal would not have turned and run,” Lucas replied dryly. “And didn’t you tell us there were two wolves?”
She could still see the big lobo in her mind, the gorgeous fur coat and how he had seemed to laugh with his tongue lolling out. “The other one seemed docile enough.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Docile?”
“Well, yes. He made no attempt to attack me.”
A strange expression flitted over Lucas’ features. His eyes darkened slightly and a corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned toward her. “Never trust a wolf, lass.”
She glared up at him, wishing she didn’t have to tilt her head so much, but she barely came to his shoulder. Now he was being pacifying. “I wasn’t going to try and pet it or anything.”
His eyes fixed on her upturned face and his gaze settled on her lips. She wondered when he’d stepped closer, for his own sensual mouth was only inches from hers. Her breathing became shallow as she felt his body heat.
He seemed to hover there for an eternity and then he looked into her eyes, the whiskey-colored depths of his seeming to search her soul. “Ye’ve no idea what the beast could do,” he said softly. “’Tis better ye stay in town while there’s work to be done.”
He’d slipped into the brogue again and she was beginning to realize he did that when he was intent.
He was trying to warn her about something and she didn’t think it was about a maverick wolf in the country.
But he was right. They needed to work on the manuscript and she needed to tell him the story she had thought of to give Mr. Smith.
“I’m sorry my absence yesterday delayed your cataloging the medieval earthenware,” she said formally as she moved toward the door. “We’ll get right on it.”
Alan Caldwell blocked their path. “I still have questions about the swords,” he said and picked up her hand. “If the Scotsman is going to hold you prisoner all morning looking at pots, the least I can do is take you to lunch. We can talk then.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Mr. Smith said.
She’d almost forgotten he was in the room.
Being held prisoner by Lucas wasn’t a bad idea…
going to lunch with Alan was. There was something about him that she didn’t trust and she wasn’t sure it was just his smooth speech and good looks.
Lucas was devastatingly good-looking too, and she trusted him…
She stopped herself. Did she trust Lucas?
Michael had made a point about power and corruption.
She withdrew her hand as easily as she could. “It might be better if we just ate here. The chef does wonderful things to a salad.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Smith insisted. “After the fright you had yesterday, you need to indulge yourself. Go to the Top of the Dome.”
She groaned inwardly. Driving into Dallas and fighting the traffic near Reunion Tower was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘I’m really not dressed for that.”
“We’ll keep it simple then,” Caldwell said.
“But your employer is right. You are definitely a lady that deserves to be indulged. And I won’t take no for an answer.
I’ll meet you back here at one o’clock.” He gave Lucas a triumphant look and walked toward the billiard hall before she had time to answer. Lucas glowered after him.
“Well,” Mr. Smith said as he settled behind his desk and looked at them expectantly. “What have you learned?”
Sara went to the door and peered into the hall before she closed it and took a seat opposite Lucas. In the chair this time and not the settee. It seemed she couldn’t think straight when she was that close to Lucas and her version of the story she was about to tell needed to seem authentic.
“I’m not sure if Mr. Ramsey has had time to finish his translation,” she said carefully, leaving some wiggle room for him. “I wasn’t quite able to complete Professor MacDonald’s notes, either, given the circumstances, but here’s what I think we have.”
Lucas gave her a quizzical look and she hoped he wasn’t going to interfere. If what he said were true about the Hallows’ real power, the less people who knew, the better off they’d be.
“You were right, Mr. Smith. The manuscript does seem to talk about the Holy Grail.” She waited while he gleefully clapped his hands several times. “I assume you’re familiar with the Otherworldly progression that Percival saw when he visited the maimed Fisher King?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “Of course. Candle bearers, a Spear that dripped blood, a platter to catch it on, and finally, the Grail Maiden, carrying the Chalice.”
“Did you know that Galahad collected all these things after the defeat at Camlann? And that he took them with him when he sailed to Sarras?”
Her boss looked dumbfounded and Lucas tilted his head to study her. She just hoped he’d let her finish. “It’s a rather long story.”
“We have time. Tell me,” Mr. Smith said.
“Please,” Lucas added, his golden eyes flickering with amusement.
She ignored that. He should be looking serious. If he wanted any kind of funding at all, Mr. Smith would need to think the treasure was really big. And what could be better than a twenty-first-century quest for the Holy Grail?
Briefly, she told him of Galahad’s arrival in Jerusalem and the Templars’ later unearthing of the treasures and finally bringing them to Scotland under the guardianship of the Sinclairs.
And that the Sinclairs may have brought the treasure to an island in Nova Scotia that had a mysterious pit built on it.
Mr. Smith was silent a moment and then his eyes widened. “Are you telling me there’s a chance that all three artifacts might still be together?”
“Maybe. But Galahad took Arthur’s Sword with him, as well.”
Her boss looked at her bug-eyed. “Excalibur? Are you saying it exists?” He put a hand dramatically over his heart. “My dear, do you realize the value of finding both the Holy Grail and Excalibur? And to think I’d own both in my private collection!”
Lucas cleared his throat. “Having just seen a small part of what you own, I can imagine how you must feel. I’ll admit, having been on the dig that unearthed the manuscript, I’d like to see these relics myself.
But perhaps the humanitarian thing to do would be to allow the world to see them as well.
If I remember the legend, the Holy Grail was supposed to be a healing instrument and the round platter symbolic of the equality of the people.
The Sword of Truth and the Spear of Light offer tolerance and understanding.
With the right marketing and promotion, perhaps people would learn to believe again.
What a service you would do to allow the world to experience that. ”
Sara nearly gaped at him. Here she was, trying to revive a myth, and he was interweaving the real story into it. Then she frowned. Marketing and promotion sounded so commercial. So potentially corrupt. Did Michael have a point after all?
Besides, if the Hallows really were found, their power needed to stay secret and hidden.
Real power and strength came from within and it was the way the Goddess worked.
Change the way people think and people changed their behaviors.
And with the Hallows, that work could be done through the universal network of white witches.
“Perhaps Mr. Smith is right,” she said. “It might be too dangerous to expose such artifacts to the whole world. What if the wrong person got hold of them?”
Lucas narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Ummm. Perhaps it might be wise to keep them private until all of them are found. It would make a much better impression to offer the whole collection at one time.”
“Yes!” Mr. Smith clapped his hands excitedly. “I would at least own them for a while until I made a decision. Now, I think the two of you should make plans to travel to this Oak Island you told me about.”
Travel with Lucas? The two of them alone? A thousand butterflies fluttered madly about her stomach, batting their wings against each other. Her blood heated as her pulse suddenly raced. She found herself gulping for air.
“I doubt there’s anything in Nova Scotia worth spending time on,” Lucas said. “Modern treasure hunters have scoured the island and the infamous Money Pit keeps flooding despite recent attempts at excavation.”
Sara’s blood chilled at his words. He didn’t want to travel with her.
Maybe all of this tingling response she had to him was all one-sided.
He’d certainly not acted interested in her this morning.
But did he think she was just going to sit in Texas and wait for him to make all the discoveries? Well, he’d better think again.
“I think it’s an excellent place to begin,” she said and looked straight at Lucas.
“I agree,” Mr. Smith said.
Lucas held Sara’s gaze. For a fleeting moment, his amber eyes turned predatory, but then the look disappeared. “I travel light and fast. No frills. ’Twould be hard for a lass to keep up.”
She lifted her head. “I’m the queen of carry-on. I’m sure I can handle whatever pace you set. Try me.”