Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 49

Caedmon raised a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn.

“Sorry. I’m a bit knackered. Last night was—” He laughed softly. “No need to tell you. You were there.”

Walking alongside him as they made their way down High, Edie nudged him in the ribs. “Was I ever.”

With their paltry belongings stuffed into the Virgin Airways shoulder bag, they checked out of the hotel immediately after breakfast. The plan was to take a coach to Heathrow, and from there to hire a vehicle for the drive to Godmersham; they were presently en route to Gloucester Green. The hotel clerk had informed them that the airport coaches left Gloucester Green every twenty minutes. Caedmon and Edie agreed that St. Lawrence the Martyr Church might well prove a false lead.

He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes past seven. It explained why High Street was nearly deserted. Smiling, Edie pressed closer. Returning the smile, he silently acknowledged that desire was born in the one who desires. Like most men in the initial throes of lust, he wondered if he fancied Edie a bit too much, his thoughts frequently settling upon her.

The events of the previous evening had unraveled so quickly, he could only cull them to mind in flashes. The quiet hum of rain pounding against the window pane. The not-so-quiet hum of guttural moans and lusty sighs. Round one had ended in an exhausted tangle. Round two had been more subtle, more seductive. They’d eaten mandarin oranges in bed, Edie squirting the juice onto his lower abdomen then lapping it up with her tongue, a mass of curly hair falling to either side of his hips. Unable to control himself, he’d grabbed her head and pushed her lower.

The pleasure that ensued had been near unbearable.

“You’re smiling. Broadly, I might add. Just what the heck are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He glanced at his companion, imagining breasts like smooth melons, legs falling open to expose an overripe fig. “I am contemplating the most erotic fruit bowl imaginable,” he replied.

Edie laughed; the woman was no prude. “I hear tell you guys have one of those thoughts every ten seconds. Amazing that you ever get anything accomplished.”

“A penciled list greatly helps.”

She laughed all the harder.

As he’d already discovered, understanding Edie Miller was one thing, sorting her out another thing altogether. Her early life had been one of abuse and betrayal. And unfathomable pain. Yet somehow she persevered.

Simply put, he was awed by her strength.

“What if we actually find the Ark of the Covenant hidden at St. Lawrence the Martyr Church?” Edie inquired out of the proverbial blue. “Have you given any thought as to what we would do with it?”

In truth, he’d given it scant consideration, focusing, instead, on deciphering the quatrains.

“I mean, do we hand it over to a museum? Or do we give it to a church or synagogue?”

“Perhaps we should wait until we find the Ark before consigning it to a second party,” he evasively answered.

“Or maybe you intend to keep the Ark for yourself,” she pressed, refusing to let the matter drop. “Fodder for your next book.”

“Bloody hell! I must have talked in my sleep.”

“I’m serious, Caedmon. So far, you’ve refused to give me a satisfactory answer as to why we’re on this insane quest.”

“I believe you’ve just hammered the nail square on the head. It is a quest, is it not? Like a knight of old, I seek knowledge and enlightenment.”

“Oh, puh-leeze.” Her voice fairly dripped with derision. “Henceforth, Sir Gawain, I would appreciate it if you gave me a straight answer rather than a canned sound bite.”

Caedmon inwardly cringed at the comparison. In later Grail legends, Sir Gawain, possessed of a singular arrogance, failed to grasp the holy import of the quest. He suspected that Edie had purposely plucked the name from the Round Table cast.

“All I’m saying is that we need to give this a little forethought before rushing off like a pair of fools into the great unknown. And what about MacFarlane and his holy warriors?” She stared at him, clearly apprehensive. “What happens if we run into them while wandering around in Godmersham?”

Although most fringe groups were all mouth and no trousers, he knew MacFarlane’s group to be the exception to the rule.

“Rather than succumbing to fearful scenarios, let’s concentrate on finding the blasted Ark.”

A pronounced silence ensued. Uncomfortable, he feigned an interest in the passing shop windows.

“We can always go to the police,” Edie suggested, the first to break the unnerving quietude.

“And promptly be accused of two murders we didn’t commit.” He forcefully shook his head. “We can’t go to the authorities unless the situation absolutely warrants it.”

“And who gets to make that call, you or me?”

“We’re a team, are we not?” As he spoke, he slung an arm around her shoulders, marrying trunks, hips, and thighs, one to the other. “‘She winters and keeps warm her note,’” he murmured into her ear, reciting the lyric from an old English song.

Edie wrapped an arm around his waist. Turning her face upward, she smiled. “Yeah, I’m with you. I much prefer to make love than war.”