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And Brighid was Balor’s arch-enemy, having banished him from Avalon and

taken his divinity. If Balor found out that Sara were a priestess of hers, her life would be forfeit. And not in a fast and merciful death either.

He had to get back to Texas.

* * * *

“I’ll be fine,” Sara assured a worried-looking Michael. “Your mom needs you.”

“I don’t like leaving you,” Michael answered. “Not with what you told me went on in Halifax. The jerk could be out there now stalking the place.”

“I’ll lock the door after you leave,” she said, “and I won’t open it to anyone, I promise. Your mom’s been hit by a car, Michael. It’s a good two hour drive to the hospital in Waco. It’s already getting dark. Go.”

He still looked hesitant. “I’ve got the gun, remember? I know how to use it.”

It took a few more minutes to persuade him that she would be all right for the night and that tomorrow she would stay at Mr. Smith’s home until either he or Lucas got back in town.

She smiled as she threw the deadbolt. Unless this Mr. Baylor had a key, he

wouldn’t be breaking down this door. It was solid oak. She checked the windows to make sure all the latches were down. Feeling rather silly, she even pulled the curtains.

Now, no one could even look in.

She read for awhile and then, getting bored, turned on the TV. One of the cable networks had on something that looked like soft porn. Not that she needed that, but she couldn’t seem to find anything else on. She glanced at the time. Ten o’clock. She might as well watch this from her bedroom. That way she could just fall asleep.

The man on the screen fisted his lady’s hair, bringing her head back and exposing the curve of her throat to him. He ravaged her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss while his hand tore the flimsy negligee off her, exposing large breasts.

Wow. A real bodice-ripper, Sara thought as the heroine moaned and the man

grabbed her buttocks and gyrated against her belly.

What would it be like making love to Lucas? Would he take her like this, hard and fast, leaving little room for anything except raw passion? Or would he take his time to make sure she was pleasured? Would he explore every inch of her, running his tongue down her stomach and up the insides of her thighs and then slide its soft velvet texture between her folds, titillating and teasing her very core until she shattered into mind-blowing nirvana?

She turned off the TV and snuggled under the covers, drifting off to sleep.

The dream came again. A Templar, his face lost in shadows. He removed the

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 91

white mantle with its red cross, a lopsided smile on his face as he stood naked in front of her. His huge erection jutted out from a mass of tawny curls and Sara reached to stroke it as he lowered his tall, well-muscled bronzed body over her and cradled her head in his hand. He brushed her hair back and began the long, leisurely exploration of her mouth and throat and breasts—

Danger!

With a jolt, she sat up.

Danger!

SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 92

Chapter Nine: Trusting

When she thought her legs could support her again, Sara picked herself up from the floor in the closet and cautiously inched it open. She was pretty sure the intruder was gone. She’d heard the door shut and he had what he thought he wanted. Still, he could be waiting …

Sara kept the hammer of the gun cocked and steadied her trigger finger by

supporting the butt with her left hand. She took a step and listened. Silence. Second step. Third. Still quiet. She tried not to notice the charred holes in the bed sheet.

She poked her nose into the hallway. It was empty and the door was closed.

Since she’d pulled the drapes in the living room, it was hard to see, but she didn’t dare turn on a light in case he was waiting down the street. Her hand found the doorknob.

Very slowly, she turned it and opened the door a mere crack. Light from the parking lot illuminated the door handle and lock. The metal was smooth. There were no scratches to indicate a forced entry.

Sara closed the door and leaned against it, her breathing shallow. No forced entry meant someone had a key. But who? Her complex manager did, of course, and Brianna.

Michael didn’t. Mr. Smith didn’t. She’d changed the locks after Loser Number Three left. With trembling fingers, she turned the deadbolt, swearing to herself that she would get a safety chain first thing in the morning, and then dragged a dining room chair over and tilted it under the doorknob, hoping it would hold.

She curled into a corner of the sofa, the gun beside her on the end table. Nim shimmered in the air in front of her, a worried expression on her faerie face.

“Thanks for warning me,” Sara said.

The faerie waved a hand. “No need. I tried to get the mask off to see his face, but he only swatted at me.” She fluttered her wings, one of which was bent.

“Nim! You’re hurt!”

“I can fix it,” she said, but her brow was furrowed. “I gave him a real good jolt of faerie-buzz which should have felt like an angry scorpion stinging his face. He barely flinched. I smelled magic around him.”

Great. Now she wasn’t fighting just a mortal foe, but one who had extra

protection? “Lucas says Baylor can do that. Was it him?”

The faerie shook her head. “His stench would be far stronger. Are you planning on staying here tonight?”

Every nerve ending was screaming to pack a bag and go to a hotel. But her

stubborn Irish mind was telling her no one was going to run her out of her home. She shook her head. “Whoever it was, he’ll have to get the purse to Baylor first. When they find out its not what they wanted, I doubt they’ll be brave enough to come back. He ransacked the place really well and, since I’m supposed to be dead, he can’t get any information out of me.”

“In that case I’m going to call on some of my Sidhe friends,” Nim said. “We can at least ward the outside of the house. If anyone comes near, he’ll think he walked into a SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 93

swarm of angry bees.”

As she faded from sight, Sara racked her brain again. Who would have a key?

* * * *

Which was the same question an angry Michael wanted to know the next morning as he pounded on her door.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked as she let him in. “It’s barely dawn. You’ll wake all the neighbors!”

“I nearly got stung out there before Nim’s friends recognized me,” he said. “And she didn’t want to tell me what happened, but the Sidhe don’t leave their earth hills for just anything. So tell me.”

Reluctantly, she filled him in and showed him the bed. His face blanched as he looked at the bullet holes in the pillows. He pulled Sara to him and held her close. “By the Goddess, these people mean business. I should never have left you.”

For a moment, she relaxed in his strength and then she gently disengaged herself.

“Your mother was hurt, remember? How is she?”

“They were getting ready to release her by the time I got there,” Michael

answered. “Apparently a car came swerving around a corner too fast as she stepped off the curb to cross the street. Luckily my mother has some preternatural skills herself and jumped back. The car barely swiped her.”

Sara felt chills down her spine, remembering the car careening around the corner in London. “Do you think Baylor ordered it? To get you away from here so he’d have time to break and enter?”

“Probably. But how would he have gotten a key?” Michael asked as they went

back into the living room and sat down.

“I don’t know. I’ve been searching my brain all night,” Sara answered.

Michael narrowed his eyes in thought. “I still think it’s suspicious that both Ramsey and Caldwell just happen to show up after that manuscript was bought. Could either of them have gotten a hold of your keys? Did you leave your purse unguarded around either of them?

“No. I can see why you’d suspect Alan after yesterday’s mess, but I really

think it’s just an ego thing with him to try and seduce me. He tried the same thing with Morgan. And, not that I like him, but he’s never even mentioned the manuscript. He may not even know we have it.”

“Then that leaves Ramsey.”

“Michael, you can’t seriously think that Lucas would try to kill me!”

“Well, he’s conveniently called out of town, asks me to be sure to keep you safe, and then I’m called out of town. Who knows who planned the car incident? Maybe Ramsey didn’t leave after all. Maybe he hung around and wanted to make sure that anyone who had real knowledge of the transcript didn’t live to talk about it.”

She stared at him. “I won’t believe that. Mr. Smith still has the original.”

Michael shrugged. “And it’s in middle-Gaelic. Who can translate? Professor

MacDonald is dead. You were supposed to be. He could lead Smith on while he

searches for the Hallows. You know whoever holds them has ultimate power.” He leaned closer. “Ramsey had your keys when he drove you home from that lunch. Did he give them to you as soon as you got back?”

Sara started and felt her face flush. “No, he forgot. He brought them back after SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 94

you took him home.”

A look of anger crossed the warlock’s face, but he masked it. “So he could have had time to make a copy before he got them back?”

“Michael, no. I don’t .... ”

“He could have had the time, though?” Michael’s voice was hard. “Yes or no?”

She felt tears brim her eyes. The man had been big and broad-shouldered. But I would have sensed it if it had been Lucas, wouldn’t I? Oh, Goddess, he wouldn’t harm me, would he?

“Yes or no, Sara? Could Ramsey have had a copy of your key?”

She couldn’t lie. “Yes,” she said, “he could have.”

* * * *

Baylor tore the worthless papers into pieces and tossed them in the wastebasket.

How could this one mission of obtaining the manuscript—which should have been

accomplished if his minion hadn’t screwed up at the auction—gone so wrong? First, Toby didn’t get the bag when the driver knocked the bitch down, then Caldwell had tried his well-reputed seducing skills on her to no avail. The drug episode had gone wrong when Ramsey intervened and she picked up the tail from the restaurant. Hell, even he had struck out in Halifax, and that had only happened once before since he’d been banished to human existence. He’d think the Kincaid woman had the blessing and protection of Avalon itself, except the bitch was dead and they still didn’t have a copy.

He would have killed Caldwell for this fiasco, but he needed him to go back in.

Smith still had the original and somehow he needed to get it. At least the hot iron marks he’d branded on Caldwell’s ass wouldn’t show, although he’d have a painful time sitting down. Just a reminder that he shouldn’t let his boss down either.

Baylor grinned remembering the scene. Bent over a padded barre in a private

room of a discreet S & M club, Caldwell’s wrists had been shackled to his ankles. It had taken four burly guards to subdue him and because Baylor respected a fighting spirit, he had benevolently given Alan the choice of having his ass reamed by the guards or taking the hot irons. The pure hatred that had flowed from Caldwell’s every pore was emotional food to him.

But Caldwell would obey him, just as that boy, Toby, did. For Baylor had

discovered the weakness in both of them. Caldwell had an elderly mother whose every bone could be broken by the merest touch and Toby had a virginal sister who needed wheelchair assistance. Yes, the men would obey him.

* * * *

When Sara pulled into Mr. Smith’s driveway just after daybreak, she hit the brakes so hard the Mustang lurched to a stop. A black Honda was parked in the driveway, just like the one who had followed her.

And it was only a little after 6:00 am. She’d been so upset with Michael that she needed to get away and she knew Mr. Smith was an early riser, but what was that car doing here?

She managed to say good morning to the butler in a steady voice as she made her way to the study. Mr. Smith was behind his desk and Lucas was standing in front of it, a black tee-shirt stretching over his broad back, tight jeans hugging slim hips and well-muscled thighs. She caught her breath. He couldn’t be the intruder, but what was he doing back so soon?

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“Is that your black rental out front?” she asked.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned around and then gave her a slow smile. “It is. Good morning, lass.”

It was his car! Was he the one driving it yesterday?

He glanced at his watch. “I was planning on coming to get you in about an hour.

Is everything okay?”

What should she tell him? That she’d been nearly murdered? Or did he know

and had planned to return and ‘find’ the body? Damn Michael’s questions for even putting that thought there. She didn’t want to believe it. But she had to know.

“Did you really go to Scotland? Do you still have your ticket?”

His eyes narrowed, the golden color beginning to glow darker as he studied her.

Then suddenly he grinned. “Aye. And I brought back a wee gift for ye. Can ye not wait to get it?” He patted a jean pocket. “I have it right here.” Then he turned to Mr. Smith and winked. “You know how impatient women can be. Would you excuse us?” At

Smith’s nod, he strode across the room and took Sara’s arm. “Let’s go to the library, shall we?”

She didn’t think she had much of a choice for his grip felt like steel. He didn’t say anything until he closed the library door.

“What’s this all about? Of course, I was in Scotland. Why are you asking?”