Timeless (18 page)

They had to figure things out before he left. She couldn’t do this on her own. She’d prided herself on being a loner, in being self-sufficient, but not anymore. She needed someone to understand. And her best bet was Quinn.

Quinn glanced at her. “What we do takes a lot of planning. Every movement down there is like shoving through hip deep sand, and the visibility is bad, as well.”

“What’s the deepest dive you’ve ever done?” she asked.

“On heliox, a hundred and sixty meters. I’ve done hard hat dives to over three hundred.”

“A hundred meters on heliox has been it for me,” Regan said.

“The thirty minute dive on air at seventy-one meters you did the other day was a hell of a thing,” Quinn said.

Why wouldn’t he leave it alone? She knew she’d screwed up. Or had she? “That wasn’t my plan.” For her air to have lasted that long had been unbelievable. A miracle. Her entire system had to have slowed down to a snail’s pace to have survived it. She opened her mouth to say just that then closed it again. She had to know she could trust him first.

They climbed the gentle slope and hugged the curves with practiced speed. Quinn drove the car as he did the skiff, with skill and confidence.

Though he often put on a conservative, all business, front, he hadn’t been moderate in his response when he’d kissed her that afternoon. There had to be some part of him that broke loose from that iron control he welded. Perhaps she’d found it. The challenge that represented was a real temptation.

But he’d be leaving and she wasn’t interested in a short-term relationship. No matter how well he could kiss.

Casual dig romances were easy to fall into, but when you left someone was always hurt. She wanted no part of that. The lasting feeling behind Braden and Coira’s relationship had taught her how much better a relationship could be once true feelings were engaged.

The pub came into view. A sudden rush of anxiety tightened her muscles and thrust her heart into a gallop. What if she had another vision and went off into some kind of trance?

Quinn pulled into the parking lot. She reached for his arm as he switched off the ignition. “You don’t think they’ll want us to do the song again, do you?”

He raised a brow. “I dinna bring my flute, so I doubt it.”

Was it the sound of the flute that had triggered the vision? She relaxed enough to offer him a smile. “Good. I’m not sure I could remember the words again.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” Could she really trust him? If he should report anything she told him back to Dr. Fraser she’d be on a plane before she had time to pack.

“Because-” Quinn urged.

Regan studied his features. She fought the urge to cup his face and lose herself in a kiss. They hadn’t had so much trouble communicating when they were touching this afternoon. And he had shared his dream with her. But would it be Quinn or Braden she’d be kissing?

She brushed at the curls against her forehead. “The last few days have been difficult, Quinn.”

He reached for her hand and held it. “Like the night you sang the song.”

She swallowed her mouth suddenly dry. It was a leap of faith for her to take him into her confidence. A leap of faith that could change her life forever.  If he was playing her. Her hand tightened around his. “It was Coira who sang the song.”

CHAPTER 17

He watched the last two girls as they got into a car. The taillights flashed red in the waning light. The car reached the top of the hill and turned left toward the lodge. Nicodemus’s insistence on the pub being opened for the group’s entertainment was working well.

He stepped from behind the yew bush and removed the master key from his pocket. He paused just inside the cabin door. The house was empty, still. He withdrew the flashlight and switched it on. Walking through, he paused to look into the first bedroom. Cosmetics cluttered the dresser. With her dark hair and lashes, she had no need for all of this. He had not seen her wear any of it.

The second bedroom looked so neat it didn’t appear to be lived in. He could not see Regan in such a sterile environment.

Opening the door directly across the hall, he recognized the scanner he’d seen her carrying across the site. He slipped inside and closed the door.

Algae stained blue jeans hung across the chair before the desk. He brushed against them as he raised the lid of the laptop and turned it on. He’d have plenty of time to search for the drawings.

No files. No pictures. Nothing. That was impossible. Why the scanner if she wasn’t going to transfer her drawings and notes to the computer? Where were they?

He stepped away from the computer and began to search the room in earnest. Regan knew something. How else had she found the chamber? There had to be something here. Anger and frustration tightened like a spring inside him.

He emptied a drawer onto the floor and searched through its contents, then another. Nothing. He raised the mattress and jerked the sheets and blankets from the bed. He reached for the computer again and stopped. Perhaps she had scanned the drawings then deleted them. They could be recovered if he took the computer and handed it off to an associate.

Or they had been saved to a disk or drive.

He sank to the bed and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Sweat trickled down his side and he shifted at the itch it left behind. Slowly, he rose and replaced the drawers, then sorted through the contents on the floor. He’d have to put everything back the way he’d found it. He ground his teeth. She’d know someone had been in her room. He should have been less eager to recover the drawings and thought things through more carefully. This was too important. Nicodemus would not have made such a mistake. The bastard.

Calm again, he rose and began to put the room to rights.

He would watch her, and eventually he would discover where she kept the disk. Perhaps in the backpack she carried. That had to be it. He would get it, somehow. No matter what it took.

CHAPTER 18

Quinn could read the conviction in her expression. She believed what she said was true.

“I only have a working knowledge of Gaelic. I’m not an expert, and it would take an expert to write the lyrics for your song.”

“Easy, lass.” He gave her hand a squeeze. The ethereal, warm glow on her face when she’d sung that night leaped to mind. She had looked past him as though he wasn’t there, and had jerked when Henry had touched her, as though coming out of a trance. Chill bumps broke out on his arms.

“You’re not saying you’re possessed by this woman?”

Regan’s eyes widened in shock. “No.” She jerked her hand away. Color drained from her cheeks. “This was a bad idea.” She reached for the door handle.

“Wait, Regan.” Quinn caught her arm. “After such a statement, you have to give me a moment to think, lass.”

She grew still but remained tense.

All the dreams he’d had of holding this woman in his arms, of sharing her body, looped through his mind. He had dreamed of her before they’d ever met. How could that be? He rubbed his forehead with one hand, a dull ache settling above each brow. The silence stretched between them.

“Have you been havin’ strange dreams?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Quinn closed his eyes. He couldn’t be a part of this. But he was. He couldn’t go on denying it and leave her hanging. Alone. He’d carried a taut feeling of anxiety and expectancy with him for days.

Something was wrong. They had to figure out what it all meant and put a stop to it.

He removed the cell phone from the case on his belt and flipped it open. “What would you like to eat? I’ll order us a meal and go in and collect it. We can take it back to the cabin with us.”

She seemed to shrink into the seat as she relaxed. “Do you believe me, Quinn?”

“Aye, I do.”

Her eyes grew glassy as though she might cry.

“Steady, lass, I don’t do well with crying women.”

Her smile was shaky, but there. “Neither do I.”

After he’d ordered their meal, Quinn laid the cell phone on the dash. He pushed the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows. “I suppose that satchel you’re guarding so closely holds something pertaining to all this.”

“Yes.” Her fingers grazed the backpack at her feet, tension leaping back into her expression.

“Are you going to show me then, and get it behind you?”

“When we get to the cabin.”

Henry appeared in the window and tapped on the glass next to her. Regan jumped and caught her breath. Her behavior wasn’t just nervous and wary, but frightened, as well. With a frown, Quinn turned the ignition key to engage the battery and rolled down the window.

Henry bent to peer in. “Are you coming in for a drink?”

“No. We’re just here to pick up a meal,” Quinn answered.

Henry focused on Regan. “About what happened today— you were right. I should have never stuck my nose in.”

Regan’s tone held a hint of pique and hurt. “I’d appreciate if you’d stop being critical of me to everyone who’ll listen, Henry. It leaves the impression that I’m incompetent, and you know that isn’t so.”

Henry’s gaze shifted to Quinn then back to her. Quinn felt some sympathy for the man as his freckled cheeks took on a reddish hue.

“You do jump into things feet first without looking, Regan. Just look at what happened today.”

“It was an accident, Henry. I’m a damn good archaeologist. I’ve worked hard to be good at what I do.”

“You knew the chamber was there before you found it.”

She looked away. “I was looking at the altar stone, and I stepped in a hole.”

“And I’ve heard your theories about the altar, too.”

Her lips grew thin as she compressed them, and she clenched her hands in her lap. “If you take everything and everyone at face value, you never learn, Henry. I’m not afraid to ask questions or to push for answers. You shouldn’t be either.”

His pale tawny eyes narrowed, and his cheeks grew redder. “All right I’m not taking things at face value with you anymore. It was just a little strange, you just happened to have a rope around your waist and waders on in case you got bogged down in the mud. Just how did you know the chamber was there? It wasn’t mentioned in any of the history Dr. Fraser gave us.”

Quinn’s heart stuttered. Jesus Christ, had the lass risked her life to find a bloody hole in the ground?

“Henry, do you really believe that I’d have been out there sliding around in the mud if there were a remote chance of drowning? What are the chances of a chamber being dug right into the center of a henge like this?”

“A million to one, I suppose. But I know you. And you know more than what you’re saying. I know you do.” He strode off across the parking lot, his narrow shoulders stiff with anger. He went inside the building.

Quinn frowned as he waited for her to shake off the emotion that had brought a blush to her cheeks and a light in her eyes. Even angry she looked damn appealing. He fought the urge to reach for her. She was so driven. So protective of her job. What was he thinking, getting involved with her? That was just it, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was being driven, too. Or was he?

“Did you know the chamber was there, Regan?”

She hesitated, her expression growing wary, uncertain. “Not entirely.”

“I’ve seen the sonar reports. It didn’t pick it up.”

“I know. Dr. Fraser told me.” She traced a finger along the crease in her slacks. “I used sonar of a different sort.” After a long pause she finally looked at him. “I had a dream.”

He swore. “And you went out there looking for it?”

“It was a dream, Quinn.”

He quelled the urge to shake her. “If it’s the sort I’ve been having, they’re more than dreams.”

Her eyes widened.

There—he had finally acknowledged it. He thrust his fingers through his hair and laying his hands on the steering wheel, focused on them. How far was he willing to go with this?

Regan rested a hand on his arm. Her fingers were long and slender, the nails cut short and unadorned with polish. He caught a flash of palms running down his back to cup his buttocks as he thrust into her. It wasn’t her.

But his body said it was. He shifted, uncomfortable.

“What do you think is happening to us?” she asked.

Quinn covered her fingers with his. “I don’t know, but it isn’t going to go away until we figure it out.” His voice sounded husky and he cleared his throat. He tried to will away his erection. It didn’t work.

“Does she look like me—the woman in your dreams?”

He studied the high cheekbones, the exotic tilt of her eyes, the slash of her brows. “Aye.”

Regan raised a hand as though to touch his cheek then withdrew it. “Braden looks like you, too.”

“How do you know I’m not feeding you a line just to get in your breeks?”

“How do you know I’m not?” she asked.

Quinn laughed. “You don’t have to work so hard as that, lass.”

He smiled at the instant flush of color that hit her cheeks.

“I’ll go get our food.” He pushed open the car door.

*****

Quinn gathered the aluminum container that had held their boiled red potatoes and steaks in whiskey sauce and stuffed them into the trashcan. Bits and pieces of a boat motor Logan was working on littered the kitchen table. He looked about the cabin and saw the exact same floor plan and nondescript furniture as Regan’s cabin. There had been more room to move about at hers.

“I thought you were teasing when you said there was barely room to sit,” Regan said with a smile.

“Put three salvagers in a small space, and we’ll find a way to fill it. There’s always somethin’ that needs to be worked on.”

“So I see.”

“I can say the same for archaeologists,” he said.

“Yes, but most of the time we’re working out of temporary structures like tents, campers, or on board a ship, sometimes a hotel, depending on the position of the site. I’ve never worked on a dig where we’ve been housed like this or had facilities like this.”