In the light of the moon, the pale woolen cloth nearly glowed.  But it was the bloodred cross sewn onto the fabric at the side of the cloak that riveted her attention.  A Templar’s cloak. 

Siobhan’s gaze shot to William’s.  “Yours?”

He nodded as he settled himself on the ground next to the opening.

“How long have you been …” She hesitated, not quite certain how to phrase what she wanted to know. 

“Hiding?” he provided for her.

She nodded.

“It feels like a lifetime, but in reality it’s been only four years for me.”

Sorrow lingered beneath his words.  “Do you miss your home?”

He averted his gaze, hiding any emotion the darkness might not conceal.  “I never truly had a home.  All my life I’ve lived by my sword.  It shelters me, feeds me, and protects me.”

“It sounds very lonely,” she said, casting a glance at his profile in the darkness of the cave.

“It gives me what I need.”

Siobhan hesitated from asking more because of the dour tone of his voice.  She’d touched on something that he didn’t want to discuss.  As her eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, Siobhan looked around the small cave.  Nothing but bare, damp rock surrounded them.  The soft surge and retreat of the waves sounded below.  She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging the scroll close to her, trying to ward off the chill of the night. 

“We can’t risk a fire,” he said as though he sensed the shudder that raced through her just then.  “Come, sit beside me.”

She sat, leaning back against the shale wall, then held the leather casing that contained the scroll in her lap.  With hesitant fingers, she brushed the leather surface. 

“What’s on the scroll?” he asked, his tone even now.

“I’m not certain.”

Even in the darkness she could see his puzzled frown.  “You risked your life for that scroll and you do not even know what it contains?”

She frowned down at the leather that protected the contents inside.  “My father sent me to retrieve this moments before he was abducted.” She turned toward William.  In the half-light his face was a study of dark planes and angles.  “I can’t help wondering if he knew something would happen to him today.” She bit down on her lip as she fingered the container’s cap.  “This is all I have left.” She didn’t expect him to understand. 

“Open it,” he said softly with no accusation in his tone.  Did he understand?  Or was he anxious for her to reveal the scroll’s secrets for another reason?

Could she trust him?  William had saved her life today … Her own curiosity forced doubts about William’s interest aside. 

She forgot about the cold.  She forgot about the tragedy of the day.  She forgot about everything as carefully, almost afraid to breathe, she opened the leather casing and gently shook out the papyrus scroll inside.  She unrolled the papyrus.  Straining her eyes in the half-light, she stared down at line after line of her father’s dense code.  Even if she’d been able to see it clearly, she doubted she could identify the words he’d hidden in the strange code.  She angled the paper toward the cave’s opening, trying to catch what light she could.  Dark shapes appeared.  A map?  She sighed.  “It’s too dark.  I can’t make anything out.”

“Then any discoveries will have to wait until first light.” He shifted beside her and with a rasp of sound, drew his sword.  He set the weapon across his lap, his hand on the hilt.  “Just in case,” he said as he settled back against the wall.  “You had best sleep.  Who knows what challenges tomorrow will bring?”

She knew he was probably right.  She rolled the scroll and placed it back in its protective leather casing, then held the treasure close to her chest, protecting what she had left of her life with her father.

She tried to block the sound of the surf, but the further darkness only made her more aware of her surroundings—especially the man sitting next to her, a sword gripped in his hands.  “Why did you come to see my father today?  Did you know de la Roche would come as well?”

He shifted, turning toward her in the darkness.  His face was cast in complete darkness now.  And for a moment she wondered if he’d planned that, secluding himself in darkness.  “Nay.  ‘Tis mere coincidence that de la Roche appeared when he did, although there were those of us who suspected he would show himself sooner or later.”

A gust of cool wind touched Siobhan’s cheeks.  She pulled the cape he’d given her closer around herself.  “Those of us?” she prompted.
She could feel his gaze upon her.  “The Templars.  Your father has information we desperately needed.”

“And now that he’s gone…?”

“I am hoping you have that information.  Or that the scroll we saved from the fire contains something we can use to find what it is I need.”
Siobhan’s hands tightened on her father’s work.  A surge of hope moved through her.  Today’s events had taught her one thing.  She needed this man’s help if she were ever to rescue her father from de la Roche’s clutches.  Could the scroll help her secure his aid? 

“What do you need?” she asked, trying to temper her growing excitement.  This man was still a stranger.  His motives were unproved.

“The Holy Lance.  It’s the one piece of the Templar treasure de la Roche wants above all the rest. Your father was the treasure’s guardian.”

A shiver rippled across her nape.  Her father had told her stories of many legendary treasures over the years, but she’d had no idea he was so intimately connected to them.

“My father called it the Longinus Spear …” Her voice trailed off in wonder.  She shifted, trying to see his face in the darkness.  If only she could see his eyes.  Then she’d know whether he was being honest or not.  “How do you think I can help you?”

“It’s how we can help each other, Lady Siobhan.”

“Please, just call me Siobhan.  No one ever refers to me as anything more.”

“Siobhan.  Help me locate the Spear, and I’ll help you find your father and get you both to safety.”

She knew nothing about this man, except that he had saved her from de la Roche earlier and that he had gone back into her burning home to rescue the scroll without fear for his own life.  Were those things enough to trust him with her father’s life?  His deepest secrets?

“Do we have an agreement?” he asked, his voice deep, expectant.

She nodded. Then realizing he could not see her any better in the dark said, “Aye.”

“Then you had best try to get some sleep because tomorrow will be another difficult day if I know de la Roche.”

Instantly, her mood sobered at the reminder of the dangers outside of their dark cave, no doubt the reason he’d drawn his sword.  “Will you be able to sleep?” she asked.

“Nay.”

Siobhan released a soft sigh.  She doubted she’d find sleep this night either.  Her lack of sleep wouldn’t stem from the ever-present danger, even though she knew she should be more fearful of discovery than she was.  Instead, her mind filled with a million possibilities of what secrets the scroll might reveal. 

She shifted her gaze to what little she could make out of William.  Did her father truly have something to do with the Knights Templar?

Coded text … Drawings …

What could her father be involved in?

Thank you to all who entered the contest featured on my website to win a replica pendant of the Charm Stone featured in my September 2009 release, Warrior’s Lady.

I am happy to announce that Maureen Emmons of Pennsylvania was drawn as the winner!  Congratulations, Maureen.  Here’s hoping this replica of the Lee Penny brings you health and healing just like the real thing.

Want another contest?  Check back soon for the chance to win other prizes as I renovate my website for my new Templar series beginning in September.  There will be lots of chances to win!

Happy Spring!

--Gerri

After a really long, cold and snowy winter, I’m ready for spring, and ready to get back to everything that I avoided doing over the dark days of winter.  Time to clean up the yard . . . lots of plants died this year because of the snow.  Time to get back to some heavy-duty writing . . . I have another book due soon.  And time to blog more.  Yes, that was one of my New Year’s resolutions--to update my blog on a more frequent basis.  So here it is the end of April and I am finally getting to it.  Just goes to show that it is never too late. 

My typical week is usally pretty scheduled.  I’m a Capricorn so I find great comfort in being organized and following a set routine.  But this week was anything but routine for me.  I hopped on a plane and headed for Orlando, Florida to the Romantic Times Convention. 

For those who have never heard of RT before, Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine holds a conference each year for the past 26 years that brings together authors, readers, booksellers, and industry professionals to network and celebrate.  The conference is always fun, often crazy--where else can you go and dress up as a fairy, a vampire, or a beach diva and dance the night away--all because you love books?  It’s great fun.  That’s me at the fairy ball in the purple hair along with Kathryn Falk (founder and CEO of Romantic Times), Marie-Claude Bourque and covermodel Cindy Guyer.

Romantic Times also gave me my start in the writing life with the American Title contest.  There have been five years of the American Title contest now.  This picture is of Janice Lynn (AT I), me (AT II), and Marie-Claude Bourque (AT V) this years winner with her soon-to-be published book Ancient Whispers February 2010. 

Aside from the networking and parites, there are also unique opportunites to meet the very handsome men who participate each year for a chance to become Mr. Romance.  This year’s competition had some wonderful contestants.

And the winner, pictured here with me at the Dorchester Beach Party was Charles Paz, 2009 Mr. Romance. 

Now I’m back home, back to Seattle springtime weather, and believe it or not, ready to get back to my desk and the structure of life again.

It was a nice escape for a while . . .