His faded blue eyes twinkled. “You’ve already made my day, dear. I never hear from any of my other students.”
Which was a shame, Sara thought as she removed the sheets of paper from her purse. Professor MacDonald had been one of those rare teachers who had infinite patience and took time to personally know who his students were. And his mind was like a huge computer data base of history.
“How would you like to interpret a document written in middle-Gaelic?”
“Aye, it would be givin’ me a fine wee memory of me homeland,” he said with a fake accent.
Sara laughed and tried not to think about the soft rolling brogue that Lucas had spoken with yesterday. The sound of hisrich baritone enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth, just as if she were standing in the embrace of his strong arms, pressed against that hard, broad chest. Warm and safe. She shook her head. Why was she thinking safe? He was probably anything but safe.
“Sara?”
The old man’s voice jogged her out of her fantasy. She took a deep breath and handed him the papers. “My boss just bought the original. This is a copy that I’d like for you to interpret if you can.”
He took it from her. “I’ll have to refresh my memory and dig through a couple of language books to do this proper credit.” He adjusted his bifocals and squinted at it. “It appears to be some sort of letter addressed to a Mr. Sinclair, something about a fate accomplished.” He put the copies down. “The script will take some deciphering. Could you give me a couple of days? I know how impatient your employer gets.”
“Don’t worry about him. A Scotsman showed up who just happens to read Gaelic.” Even now, his scent of leather and soap haunted her. “He followed me from London.”
The old man reached over and patted her arm. “You must be more careful, dear. Are you sure his intentions are honorable?”
She rather doubted it. Those mesmerizing amber eyes had lingered on her mouth long enough for her breathing to become shallow and she’d had to fight the urge to suddenly lick her lips. But that wasn’t what the professor meant.
“He seems to be. He’s an archeologist and works for Scotland Yard as a consultant. He provided other documentation. Mr. Smith is checking it out.”
“Ah, good.” Professor MacDonald leaned back, looking relieved and then puzzled. “But why do you want me to read this, then?”
“I couldn’tnotlet you read it. Your love of medieval lore is as great as mine.” She looked up as the door opened and Robertpopped his head inside to acknowledge that he had arrived. “And for backup,” Sara said as she stood to leave. “I want to make sure that Lucas—Mr. Ramsey—is telling us the truth.”
“You don’t trust him, child?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to know that there wasn’t a mistake in translation. He read the first page and reacted a lot more strongly than you just did. And Mr. Smith is sure that the thing will reveal where the Holy Grail is hidden.”
Professor MacDonald raised a furry eyebrow. “Well. This is indeed a fine gift you’ve brought me, then. Mystery and perhaps a little magic?”
She started at that, wondering if the professor had ever guessed that she was in the Sisterhood. If the translation proved to be as dire as Mr. Ramsey had made it sound, perhaps her group could work some white magic with it.
Lucas. She smiled wanly as she let herself, thinking of Professor MacDonald’s question. Trust? It was herself she didn’t trust. Not around Lucas Ramsey.
****
When she returned to Mr. Smith’s mansion early that evening, Adonis was sitting on the settee in the office. Now why had she thought of Lucas Ramsey as a Greek god?
Nim giggled near her shoulder.“Because he looks like one!”
Sara nearly jumped. Usually she could tell when the faerie was near. This man was addling her brain. No doubt about it and she needed for it to stop. By the Goddess, her knees even felt weak just from being in the same room with him.
“Come in and sit down, Sara!” Mr. Smith was beaming from behind his desk. “I’m delighted to tell you everything checked out with Mr. Ramsey and he’s agreed to help us!”
She could feel those golden eyes studying her even as she looked around for a place to sit that wasn’t on the settee. One of the overstuffed easy chairs held an assortment of knivesand daggers that her boss had meant to categorize before the document had caught his attention. As shaky as she felt, she wasn’t about to pick up knives that were sharpened on both edges. The other chair was heaped full of open boxes that contained parts to a new computer system. Too heavy and messy to move. Reluctantly she took a step toward the couch.
“I won’t bite. I promise.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and made him look even sexier. His gaze traveled to her bare throat and she could almost hear the unspoken words:“Unless you want me to…”
She felt her face grow warm and tugged at the spaghetti straps of her top, not that it helped. Goddess! What was happening to her? With her uncanny ability to have picked not one but three loser relationships in her adult life, she thought she’d become immune to men. Or at least good-looking ones who made promises with their eyes.
She lifted her head. Shewasan adult and she owned her own business.And, she had just traveled to Europe on her own. In spite of the incident with the car and the pickpocket, she had successfully returned with the document. Surely she could handle sitting on the same piece of furniture with this man. She plopped down unceremoniously.
“That’s better,” Lucas said in that husky voice that made her think of warm cognac. She wished she had a whole decanter full.
