The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (6 page)

The group ate in silence for a while.
The quiet began to get almost as uncomfortable as words.
Ian
’
s stare had
weight
.
“
Were you able to get anything done today, with your arm like that?
”
she asked at last.

“
I can
’
t get down the cliffs, but I did get a pretty accurate population count using binoculars and my camera.
Tomorrow I want to take a quick look around the north end, if that won
’
t interfere with your dig.
”

“
There are seals,
”
she said.
“
I saw one this morning.
”

He looked up from his plate with a speed that she didn
’
t think had much to do with seals.
“
Want to show me where?
”

A distant boom of thunder interrupted the conversation.
The wind began picking up, and the fire guttered in its wake.
“
I think the fun is over for the night,
”
Faith announced, getting to her feet.

The group collected the remains of their meal.
Dustin headed to his tent to continue working on his sketches, and Thomas made off with the grill and dishes.

Faith started toward her tent, then hesitated.
“
Sara?
”

“
I
’
m fine,
”
she assured her sister.
No, I
’
m not.
“
Go on.
”
Stay, stay, for God
’
s sake, stay.

Her sister nodded and walked away.

Sara watched her go.
If Faith sensed her agitation, she ignored it skillfully...and willfully.
With a grimace of resignation, Sara picked up a last few maps scattered about the ground, then put the fire out.
The wind whistled around the tents, and she smelled rain on the air.
She had mountains of research waiting, including whatever she could find on the amulet, but frowned at the thought of Ian walking back up to his camp in the rain.
She hesitated, hardly believing what she was about to say.
“
The storm may not last long, if you want to stick around.
”

He looked up.
The gathering clouds had obliterated all traces of the stars.
Thunder rumbled again, louder this time.
“
Yeah, I guess I
’
ll wait it out.
”

They headed toward Sara
’
s tent as the first drops splattered down.
From there, the rain increased tenfold, drenching them both and rushing them along.
They made it to shelter just as the first flash of lighting arced across the sky.
The wind surged.
She wondered if her tent wouldn
’
t be blown flat by morning.

Inside, she lit the lantern on her bedside table.
She grabbed a towel to dry her sopping ponytail.
“
I
’
m sure I could have used a bath, but not like this.
”
Her sweater stuck like a wet sponge to her skin.
She peeled it away with a disgusted sneer.

Ian turned his back to her.
“
Go ahead and get changed.
”

She caught her breath at the view of him thus presented.
His rain-soaked jeans and jacket were plastered to his body.
She followed the lines of his broad shoulders down to a narrow waist and stopped on a very nice ass.
Oh, my God... Quit looking!

So
not a teacher
’
s body.
She did an about-face and snatched a T-shirt from her trunk, shucking out of her sweater as fast as possible.
She threw the T-shirt on, only to discover it was inside out and backward.
She cursed under her breath, and ripped it off to turn it right side out.

****

Ian knew he shouldn
’
t, but he looked over his shoulder.
His mouth went dry as he fixed on her near-naked back.
Lantern light glistened on her damp skin.
As she wrestled with the shirt, her shoulder blades arched above a bra gone transparent with water.

Heat blazed up his spine.
From where he stood, he could have reached her in three steps.
Pained, he closed his eyes.
Don
’
t.
Fucking.
Move.
Already, his body had formed other ideas.

All of which sounded way too good.

For whatever she was.

For a minute, all he heard was the sound of shuffling cloth.
Then she asked,
“
Are you okay?
”

He chanced another glimpse back over his shoulder.
Dressed now, she frowned at him in an expression of concern.
He frowned, too.
He couldn
’
t call it relief, but it was sure as hell easier to say something when she had her shirt on.
“
Yeah.
”

She picked up the towel and offered it to him.
He took it to dry his own dripping hair.
It smelled like her: earthy, with an undertone of something spicy that made him want to act on his earlier impulses.
He tried not to breathe it in, feeling suddenly trapped in her tent while the storm howled outside.

“
Do you want something dry to wear?
I could ask one of the guys for a set of clothes.
”

“
I
’
m fine.
”

“
At least something for a dry sling.
Do you need any ice?
We have an icebox hooked up to a generator.
”

“
No.
Sara, the sling is fine.
My arm is fine.
Don
’
t worry about it.
”
He dropped the towel on her trunk, took a few steps away, then sat in an empty camp chair.
She stayed where she was, crossing her arms over her body as if she were cold.
He warred with the confusion etched like a neon sign into her posture.
“
I
’
m sorry.
It just hurts, so I
’
m punchy.
I didn
’
t take any painkillers tonight.
”

“
Oh.
”

“
You gonna sit?
”

Prodded into motion, she fished in the cooler by her table.
“
Normally after breaking ground on a dig, I finish up the day with a beer.
Sort of an opening ceremony.
”

“
Don
’
t let me stop you.
”

She offered him a drink.
He took a water, even though he would rather have downed a six pack in one shot.
She got a beer for herself, then sat with a long sigh in the table
’
s opposite chair.
“
I hope it doesn
’
t rain tomorrow.
I
’
d like to get further than we did today.
”

He recognized the nervous chatter for what it was.
He knew what she was.
She
knew he knew it.
His good manners prodded him just enough to push out some conversation, while they were stuck here.
“
What got you into all this, anyway?
”

The rumble and hiss of the storm filled the silence for a minute.
“
My father.
”
She smiled, and Ian found his gaze locked on it.
“
Dad was an archaeologist.
He taught at the university, and they sent him all over the world on assignments.
I used to love it when he came home with stories about where he
’
d been and what he saw.
Archaeology seemed like such an adventure.
He was brilliant.
”

“
Was?
”

She took the cap off her beer.
The bright look in her eyes faded, taking something indefinable with it, and Ian wished it hadn
’
t right up until she added,
“
He
’
s dead.
”

He went rigid.
“
So
’
s mine.
”

“
Oh.
”
She fidgeted with her beer bottle.
“
How?
”

“
I don
’
t want to get into it.
What happened to yours?
”

Her expression cooled.
For the first time, he saw why people back at the college called her Shark Markham.
“
I don
’
t want to get into it.
”
She took a long drink of beer.
“
I don
’
t suppose you want to tell me how you just happened to choose Hvitmar for your birding project.
”

He opened his water bottle.
“
I had to come to Shetland, anyway.
”
When she gave him a
get-real
look, he raised his hands.
“
I swear to God.
My assignment was to study the coastal birds of Shetland.
You want to see my proposal?
”

“
Lucky for you, Hvitmar
’
s in Shetland.
”

“
Yeah, lucky me.
”

She took another drink.
The silence stretched out some more, and he tried not to fidget.
He wanted to leave.
To hell with the storm.
But then he caught another whiff of her earthy-spicy scent, and his body refused to move from the seat.

A crash of thunder made them both flinch.
“
God, the weather
’
s in rare form tonight,
”
she murmured.

“
This is nothing compared to Maine during a good summer storm.
”

“
Oh?
”

“
My first internship was at a wildlife preserve in Maine.
Stormed practically the entire time I was there.
We had to bail out our tent with a coffee can the last night.
”

Thunder boomed again.
“
I think we might be in for a repeat performance,
”
she said over the rain beating on the tent canvas.
He thought he saw her cheeks flush.
“
I hope you don
’
t mind being here for a while.
”

He stared at her across the table.
Did he?

She got up and pulled a blanket from the foot of her cot, then draped it over her shoulders.
“
Are you sure you don
’
t want me to find a dry shirt for you?
If we don
’
t get you out of that stuff—
”

Whatever she was, she had a way with words.
He broke into a grin.
“
What
’
s it gonna take to get you to quit asking me to take my clothes off?
”

She jerked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, iron-faced.
He marshaled his expression into order, but it was too late to stop the visuals playing in his head of
both
of them shedding their clothes.
It was a bitch, and it was unfair as hell, but Sara Markham had a body that could start a four-alarm fire.
He cleared his throat and shifted in the seat.
“
I
’
m all right.
Sit down.
”

A few seconds passed, then she dropped back into her chair and snatched up her beer bottle.

He watched her for a while.
Her body—all woman, all distracting—started sucking up more and more of his attention.
It had been too damn long.