He nodded, remembering the round design that was typical of a Templar church. The circle was more pagan than Christian. Which made him think of the picture in Sara’s apartment and the standing stones of Avalon. How much did Sara really understand of those power symbols in her home? He didn’t dare probe her mind again…not unless he wanted to suffer the effects of a painful erection.
“Are you listening?” she asked.
He forced himself to refocus, especially since the wolf had alerted to his interest. Did those full pouting lips have to be so inviting? “Yes. Go on.”
“I think it all ties in. If the Sinclairs had claimed this island before the Scottish Inquisition, why wouldn’t they move the treasure here? And certainly, the Hallows would be the most important!”
“The Templar’s treasure may indeed lie down below,” Lucas answered, “but the guardians of the Hallows would never have left them together. What if, somehow, the wrong person—like Baylor—found them? The Sinclairs would most certainly have hidden them in four separate locations.”Hell, I told Galahad to take only the Grail to Sarras, but would he listen? For six hundred years—until Payen’s original Templars and I could begin digging at Solomon’s Temple—the treasure lay vulnerable..
“Well, if they’re here, they’re safe,” Sara said in a dejected voice. “There isn’t anything you or I can do that hasn’t already been tried.”
“That’s why I think this whole thing was built as a ruse.No onecan get to the bottom. Would the Sinclairs really want to keep the Hallows hidden forever?” He paused and then added, “Aren’t we forgetting the verse? It says, ‘Seekfirstthe Spear.’ Wouldn’t that indicate that the Hallows are in four different places?”
She looked up at him, hope rekindling in her eyes. “That’s true.” Then her face fell. “But even if the Sinclair ships came this far, where else would they have gone? America hadn’t been discovered yet.”
Lucas laughed. “Don’t be too sure about that. I could tell you stories of both the Norse and the Celts being in America five hundred yearsbeforeColumbus. But seeing the doubt on yourface, perhaps I could show you something tomorrow that would prove American shores had been breached before 1492.”
“What is it?” Sara asked, letting the excitement rise in her voice.
Lucas grinned. “Ah, lass. Ye’ll have to wait.”
She grabbed his arm. “Come on! That isn’t fair! Tell me!”
He shook his head, secretly enjoying the warmth of her touch as she clung to him, face uplifted. All he would have to do his dip his head a little to claim her soft lips…
“Ye’ll just have to sleep on it, lass.”
The wolf growled. He suspected he might not be getting any sleep at all.
****
Baylor stepped out from behind some scrub bush a good distance from the money pit. He couldn’t take a chance on the Templar’s wolf scenting him, but he’d still been close enough to see that they hadn’t found anything important, although the fact that the girl—what had Caldwell called her? Sarina? No. Sara—was keeping a tight hold on a big leather purse gave him a good clue the manuscript copy was in it.
There had been some animated conversation, though, and then the girl had stepped close and Ramsey had almost kissed her. It was something Baylor filed away for future use. He’d follow them and wait for nightfall. If Ramsey took her to his room, he could search hers. And if not… He shrugged. He was very good at what he did.
****
Sara sighed contentedly as she looked out the dining room window in their hotel to the softly rippling sea. The moon had just begun to wane and its silver light danced upon the small waves like thousands of tiny diamonds. Maybe now she could get Lucas to talk to her. Maybe more?
“It really is pretty here,” she said.
“It’s probably the flattest piece of land in all of Canada,” Lucas said as he poured her some wine and then reached for his water. “And the fishing off the Grand Banks is some of the best in the world.”
“And most dangerous,” Sara answered. “Didn’t you seeThe Perfect Storm?”
“Aye. But ye should sail the Hebrides in the winter sometime. Even wearing five layers of fine Shetland wool and having foul-weather gear canna keep the howling wind and churning sea from turning a man into ice.”
“No, thanks,” she said with a laugh and a shudder. “Some risks I don’t need to take.” She took a sip of the Chardonnay he’d ordered and then stopped as she realized his eyes were on her mouth. She tried not to think about the risk she was taking at the moment. Or maybe she did want to. She was confused.
On the entire flight up here, he had worked on a laptop computer. But the cramped express jet that the airlines were using these days to save money still had their thighs touching on occasion. She had tried diligently to read a book, but she had to keep reminding herself to turn the pages.
He’d also been strictly business at the money pit until that very last remark about showing her something tomorrow. She had felt his muscles tense on his arm when she’d touched him and his lips had been just inches from hers. She was almost positive he had dipped his head toward hers. And now, in this very romantic setting, he was talking about geography? And wearing five layers of clothes? She wondered if it was a subtle warning on his part. The happy little buzz from the wine faded. Fine. She certainly was not going to throw herself at him. Definitely. Not.
He motioned for the check and yawned. “It’s been a long day and we have an early flight.”
Not exactly a romantic gesture. So be it. She wasn’t ready to go sit in her room. Sara glanced at her watch. “It’s just past ten o’clock. I think I’ll take a walk and smell that fresh salt air. We don’t get much of that in Dallas.”
“I can’t let you go by yourself.”
