He stood and stretched, and Sara tried not to notice that the polo shirt he was wearing this morning stretched tight across his chest and revealed bulging biceps. A fine gold chain around his neck dipped into the vee of his shirt and she wondered what hung at the end of it. It was enticing to look at and her hand itched to reach inside his shirt and pull it free.
He came around the desk to sit next to her on the couch, one khaki-covered thigh brushing hers slightly. Damn, there was that heat again, sizzling its way to her very core. A slow pulsing began between her thighs, and her breathing shallowed.
His amber eyes fixed on her mouth and, for a crazy moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.Wantedhim to. No,she didn’t. She needed some space. She shifted away from him slightly. If he noticed, he didn’t say.
“Will you please go on?” Goddess! Even her voice was raspy. “What does Bannockburn have to do with the document?”
“It’s Commander Sinclair, actually,” Lucas said. “Henri Sinclair inherited the Earl of Orkney title, and it was in those northern islands that the Templar ships landed.”
“Along with their treasure?”
“So it’s told in Gaelic lore. In 1398, Henri sailed a well-armed ship across the Atlantic to a place he called New Scotland…Nova Scotia. The legends say that ship carried Solomon’s treasure with it.”
“But wait… That would have been nearly a hundred years before America was even discovered!”
Lucas shrugged. “In 1434 a map was produced that matches parts of what is now Massachusetts, well before Columbus made his trip. Anyway, the Sinclairs had also received the barony of Roslin, and as peace began to become a reality, another descendent, William, was appointed Hereditary Patron and Protector of Scottish Masons.”
Sara rubbed her forehead. “I’m beginning to get a headache. And the Masons were Templars?”
“Not directly. But Sinclair was. And the Templars were always and forever guardians of the Treasure…and especially, of the Hallows.”
She groaned a little. For a man who was so powerfully built and virile, Lucas really could wind around a tale like an ancient bard. “Are we actually speaking of the Holy Grail?”
“Bear with me. It’s a long story.” As she winced, he lowered her hands and began tracing small circles on her temples with his thumbs.
She was amazed at how surprisingly gentle his touch was. Not only did the pain slip away, but her shoulders relaxed and the tightness in her neck disappeared. She closed her eyes.
“That’s it.” His voice soothed like warm honey mixed with bourbon. “Let go. I need for you to understand what I’m about to say.”
His fingertips massaged her scalp lightly, alleviating the last bit of tension and impatience. She could have stayed cradled in his hands forever. Reluctantly she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her intently.
“Ready to go on?” he asked.
She was more ready to go on than he knew. But he hadn’t meant that. Lucas was all scholarly at the moment. Inwardly, she sighed. “Yes.”
“There had always been a Templar centre at Ballantradoch—Roslin—but with Master masons at his disposal, William began building a chapel with plans for a grand cathedral to keep the Church happy. Or so it was told.”
Sara knit her eyebrows together. “You’re saying that the cathedral was never meant to be?”
Lucas shrugged. “Perhaps. But the chapel was built for a definite purpose, one that wasn’t particularly Christian.”
She nodded. Any follower of Brighid was aware that Rosslyn Chapel had more pagan symbols than Christian. There were well over a hundred pictures of the Green Man in the chapel. One couldn’t get much more pagan that the God of Fertility, sometimes known as Cernunnos or the Horned One. And on the Goddess path, all things seek balance. The rose, associated with the Divine Feminine for time beyond Time, was evident in every way, even in the name of the chapel itself.
“I’m familiar with Rosslyn Chapel,” Sara said. “It’s part of the curriculum for a course that I adjunct.”
Lucas sat back and grinned. “You don’t look like a teacher.”
“And what are teachers supposed to look like?”
His grin broadened. “Not like you. But go on.”
Hmmm. If he wanted her version, he was going to get it. She had visited Rosslyn just two years ago. “Well, for one thing, the William Sinclair you speak of has a floriated cross on top of his tombstone with eight points—symbolic of the eight years it takes the morning and evening star, Venus, to complete a cycle. The rose at the center of that cross, along with five-pointed stars and pentacles everywhere, conveys the path she took.”
She paused to see if he was keeping up and then wondered if that had been a mistake. His eyes were trained on her like he was a hungry wild beast who’d just found dinner. She cleared her throat.
“Roses are associated with Mary Magdalene. The five petals of the rose also symbolize the five stages of female life. Eros in the Green Man and Venus in Mary Magdalene. The balance of masculine and feminine.”
“I’m impressed,” Lucas said.
