Page 64 of Knight of the Sword

“Nope. Least ways, not that I heard. One old woman claimed the streak looked like some kind of dragon, but old Lucy’s a bit daft in the head. Always claims to be seeing things in those cards she uses.”

“Cards?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah. The fortune-telling type. She goes into the city couple of times a week to make money off the tourists.”

Michael flashed Sophie a look and she knew he was thinking of the Tarot reader they’d seen. She shivered slightly although the midday air was warm and humid. Their guide poled through the narrow stream as it opened into a slightly larger bayou. The water lay still and, for a moment, Sophie felt as though she were surrounded by a globe of bluish-green light. It was hard to tell where the water ended and the land began. They moved into a narrower inlet again that seemed to be criss-crossed with other streams. It was a labyrinth of swaying grasses, high enough so any horizon that might be out there couldn’t be seen. Here and there a chêniére rose slightly above the surface, its hard white shells forming a ground of sorts for oak trees that somehow amazingly grew here.

“This here’s called ‘the tremblin’ prairie,’ ” the old man said as he turned the pirogue in yet another direction, “on account of you can’t really tell if anythin’ is solid or not.”

Sophie sincerely hoped their guide knew where he was going, since she was thoroughly confused, but now she could understand how the pirates felt safe from pursuit. The governor’s soldiers would easily have become lost.

“This is it,” the old man said as the pirogue scraped against a hard shell beach dusted lightly with sand. “Temple Island, although there ain’t nothin’ left here either.”

Michael stepped out of the boat into shallow water. Before Sophie could join him, he picked her up and carried her to the relatively dry ground a few inches above the gently lapping waves.

“My chivalrous knight,” Sophie teased and gave him a quick kiss, missing the odd look that fleetingly crossed his face.

He smiled. “No need to get your feet wet. Come on.”

Sophie followed him up the slight incline toward tall, live-oak trees that formed somewhat of a haphazard circle. She felt a slight chill slide over her as she passed between two of them and then looked up to find Michael watching her.

“You feel it too?” he asked.

“Feel what exactly?”

“The air feels heavier here, almost as though there is a lack of energy.” Michael took her hand and moved to the center of the circle. “The natives held ceremonies here, most likely sacrificial rituals. This is where slaves were sold, families split. There’s a pall hanging over the place. So much sorrow.”

Sophie glanced around slowly, half-expecting transparent wraiths to rise from the ground, wailing. “You’re talking about ghosts?”

Michael shook his head. “Only residue now. The spirits are gone.”

“Great. That makes me feel better.” She looked up to see a dab of sunlight dribbling through the leafy branches. “So why would a twentieth-century Templar bury Excalibur here?”

“Justice. Excalibur has been called the Sword of Justice, as well as the Sword of Fire. Burying it here is symbolic of righting the wrongs that have been done in this place.”

“Is everything symbolic?”

“Not everything.” He grinned. “I’d say making love to you is pretty much the real thing.”

“You’re thinking of sex now?”

“Sure.” His grin widened. “Isn’t that what all men have on their minds most of the time? Besides, don’t tell me you didn’t want a quickie on the way down here. How about if I lean you up against that tree over there? We could give some positive energy back to this place.”

“Michael McCain! You don’t expect me to… I mean, that old man could come up here any minute.”

“I can create an invisibility illusion. He won’t see us.” He moved closer, putting his arms around her waist, nuzzling her nape, tugging on her ear gently with his teeth. “Oaks are sacred trees to druids. The energy force will be incredible—past anything we’ve done so far.”

Sophie leaned back in his embrace and stared at him. “How can it get better?”

“Ah, you flatter me,” he said and slanted his mouth over hers, teasing her lips with his tongue until she made a mewling noise deep in her throat and opened to him.

Sophie hardly noticed how he back-walked her to the tree. Strangely, the bark didn’t feel rough as he pressed her against it and unbuttoned her shirt. He bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking back and forth over the tip before he turned his attention to the other and suckled it thoroughly. Warm tropical air fanned over the wet nipple he’d just laved, and her spine began to tingle where the trunk touched her. Michael’s hard, hot cock brushed against her belly. When had he unzipped his pants and pulled her shorts down? His mouth claimed hers again, taking and demanding, as he spread her legs and lifted one of her thighs over his.

“Keep your eyes open for this,” Michael whispered.

Sophie grasped his shoulders and then gasped as his thick erection filled her. The sensation of being partially clothed yet totally vulnerable was incredible. She rocked her hips against him, wanting him deeper. He responded with slower, more leisurely thrusts, making her ache even more for him, but she had learned that this pace would make her body nearly insatiable and the climax would be earth-shattering. As their bodies found their natural rhythm, Sophie looked up to see the tree’s branches begin to sway in unison, the leaves fluttering as though a gale were whipping through.

“The tree—”