Oceanborne (8 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Oceanborne
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In any case, she needed to get back to her headquarters. Her position as leader of this undersea expedition was too precarious to risk her reputation with her crew and colleagues. This might be the only chance she'd ever get to prove herself and she wasn't about to waste it. Since she'd been a grad student, she'd struggled to overcome her father's legacy of brilliance gone awry. And nothing would allow her to be tarred by the same brush.
She didn't like to think about what had happened to her father, his obsession with an impossible quest, and his breakdown of health, reputation, and finally family. His fanaticism had cost him his life, and cost her the love and companionship of a beloved parent. But the academic world was full of competition and jealousy. Too many people had been unhappy when she'd been granted the opportunity to lead this project, and they'd be delighted to see her fail.
Clutching the precious ring tightly in her left hand, Elena lowered herself over the edge of the dory and began to swim toward shore. She'd solve the question of the ring later. First things first.
 
“We were wondering when you'd show up.” Stefanos stood in the center of the street with a bottle of wine under his arm. “We found the Zodiac at the dock this morning, but no sign of you, Dr. Elena.” He grinned, indicating the middle-aged man on the motorbike just pulling away. “Guess you made a warm date.”
“A warm date?” She laughed. “You mean that you think I
had
a
hot date.
”
“Not so good, what I said?”
She smiled at him. “You're getting better.” Stefanos's English was excellent, except for American slang. He was technically a grad student here to further his education in underwater archeology, but she suspected that he was a plant, inserted in the dive to make certain that nothing illegal or unethical was done.
She liked Stefanos. He had a sense of humor; he was a hard worker, and he always knew where to find good wine at the best prices. But in her opinion, he was more cop than scientist. Plus, Irene, her other Greek grad student, had passed on the information that Stefano's uncle held a position of importance in the Greek government.
Not that she could blame the authorities. The wholesale looting of national Greek treasures was a disgrace, and had gone on since the reign of Alexander of Macedon. Sad to say, many teams of foreign archeologists had enriched their own countries' museums over the years, and even today, not all teams were entirely above board when it came to full disclosure of information. Her sponsor, The Nautical Archeology Program at Texas A & M, was respected worldwide for the integrity of their scholarship and their digs, but she supposed that all expeditions were suspect until proved otherwise.
In any case, Stefanos had been a real find. It was Stefanos who had found the rambling house in the Old Town that served as both headquarters and residence for her team and procured a dive boat and cook and housekeeper. There, amid the narrow twisting alleys and crumbling Venetian architecture, he'd secured a real gem of a rental. Her room even had a balcony, and if she stood on tippy toes and leaned over the precarious wooden railing, she could catch a glimpse of not only the sea but the massive Venetian fortress that overlooked the harbor.
Stefanos glanced at the departing motor bike. “An old friend?”
“Who? Oh, Karl. No, I just hitched a ride with him.”
He lost the amused look on his face. “Be careful, Dr. Elena. Even on Crete, bad things can happen to good people, especially one such as yourself, a beautiful woman. All strangers are not—”
“He's a priest, Stefanos. Here on vacation from Kansas City.” She chuckled. “And we were properly introduced by a taverna owner in Agia Galini.” She shook her head. “You worry too much. I can take care of myself.”
“You wouldn't be the first foreigner to vanish in Greece.”
“I'm here, safe and sound,” she said, not wanting to dwell any further on what the hell had happened to her. She'd worry about that later. “The sea would have been too rough to dive today anyway.”
“At least you're here in time to enjoy some of Anna's fish stew.”
He turned back toward the street that led to their alley, and Elena followed, frowning thoughtfully. If the Zodiac was here, she must have returned to Rethymo yesterday. So why didn't she remember doing so?
“We're not the only ones who were looking for you,” Stefanos said over his shoulder. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor? Who?” She couldn't imagine who it might be.
“A fellow American. Greg Hamilton.”
“Greg? Oh, no.” A ripe Greek oath slipped out before she could stop herself. He'd said something about her meeting him in Athens for a night of club hopping. She'd completely forgotten.
“He's waiting in the lounge for you.” Stefanos grinned. “And from the sound of him, he's not too happy with you.”
CHAPTER 8
“
W
here were you? No one saw you since yesterday morning, and it's after two now, for God's sake!” Greg swore and Anna stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway.
The little woman shook her wooden spoon at him. “Me, I not cook in a house where the name of God is used so.”
“Sorry, Ma'am,” Greg said. “No offense meant.”
Anna, all of five feet and as thin as her own spoon handle, scowled. “Take care for your soul.” She glanced at Elena. “Will this American be for dinner?”
“No,” Greg said.
Elena shook her head. “No, thank you, Anna. Don't count on me either.”
Irene, Stefanos, and Hilary entered the spacious lounge. The two women were discussing the significance of an unusual pattern on a section of pottery that they'd pulled from the wreck on their second day of diving.
“I know you and Stefanos have met,” Elena said to Greg. “Were you introduced to my team? Dr. Hilary Walden is on the staff at Texas A & M, and Irene is one of our able Greek grad students.”
Irene smiled. “We met earlier.”
“She was kind enough to offer me coffee while I waited for you,” Greg said. “I told you that I was coming to Athens, Elena. I was counting on spending last night with you.”
“Let's go upstairs,” she said. “There's no reason to intrude on everyone's dinner.” Elena led the way out of the spacious, whitewashed sitting room with its four tall windows, high ceiling, and cool, antique tile floors. Greg followed her down the hall and up a flight of wide stairs.
Over the years, the house had been occupied by many owners, but it retained its Venetian bones, softened by Greek practicality. Her bedroom, on the second floor, was as light and airy as the lounge downstairs. Simple white plaster walls and deep windows with wooden louvers that could be shuttered against the mid-day heat offered a cool tranquility. As usual, stacks of books covered her table and spilled onto the two straight-back chairs. She waved Greg to a lumpy but comfortable loveseat and sat down beside him.
“I was worried about you,” he said. “Someone, it must have been Stefanos, said that the weather was too bad for diving, but that you'd taken the Zodiac out and—”
“I'm sorry, Greg. I completely forgot you were coming. Not that I forgot you were coming,” she added quickly. “But you didn't know what day you were flying in, and—”
“How can you head up a project like this dive and be so irresponsible? This isn't the first time you've stood me up.”
She grimaced. “You're right. It's my fault, and I'm sorry. What more can I say?”
“I've got to be on the ship tomorrow. I'll be tied up there for weeks during the exploration. It was our last chance to have a night together. And you pull a vanishing act. Where the hell were you?”
Good question
, she thought.
Where the hell was I
? “There's no ring on my finger,” she answered defensively. “I don't believe I'm obligated to provide an alibi for my comings and goings.”
“We could change that.” He reached for her hand. “You just have to say the word.”
She let him take her hand, but kept a distance between them. “It would never work. As you say, I'm
irresponsible
.”
“I didn't mean that and you know it. You're scatterbrained. Right-brained, left-brained, something like that. You get tied up with your work, and you forget everything else.”
She nodded. “True. I've always been like that. It's no excuse, but don't count on my changing.”
“You care about me, Elena. You can't say you don't.”
“You know I do. We're pretty good in bed.”
“More than that.” He grinned. “We're hot.”
She nodded. “But sometimes, great sex isn't enough. I just don't think it would work logistically. You spend half your life jetting around the world, and I'm usually at one isolated site or another.”
“It doesn't have to be that way. We could both make changes in our careers.” He leaned closer to kiss her, but she pulled away and rose to her feet.
“We've talked about this before. I don't think I'm cut out to be a wife,” she said. “At least not to someone like you.”
“What?” He stood up. “My family's money offends you? Or is it the ‘save the planet/green world' shit?”
“No.” She went to a window and looked out on the street below. Children were chasing a cat, and a stout nun in black walked past with loaves of bread in a wicker basket. “Maybe it is, a little. Not the money. I know how much you've put into H.E
.
Your dad may have founded Hamilton Energy, but you've expanded the company lightyears: solar, wind, geothermal.”
“Natural gas and oil are still our bread and butter. Which is why this new gas field could mean so much.”
“Ah, I thought we'd get around to that,” she said. “You know how I feel about drilling in this part of the world.” Her tone softened. “Does it have to be here, Greg? If anything goes wrong, we could lose pieces of history that can't be replaced.”
“It won't happen, not if the exploration is done right. The world needs energy. You know the state of Greek finances. A successful new gas field could mean everything to these people.”
“But every foot of the sea floor is littered with artifacts. There's so much we haven't learned yet, and so much that's already been lost.”
“Which is why the project needs solid archeologists onboard. You could be one of them. You could give this up. Do something you believe in for a steady income. A good income, Elena, one that would allow you to—”
“You want me to take a job with Hamilton Energy?” She shrugged. “I have a job, a career I love. I'm not leaving this site, leaving everything I've ever worked toward, to take a trumped-up position in an oil company.”
“That's exactly what I told Dad you'd say.” He came to stand beside her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Damn, Elena, do you have to always live like a monk?” He indicated the only ornamentation on the walls, a wood and gilt crucifix over her bed. “This room couldn't be more austere if you had a cell in a monastery.”
She laughed and turned toward him. He kissed her, and she laid her head against his shoulder. “Am I forgiven?”
“No. I still want to know where you were for over twenty-four hours.”
“Woman of mystery, that's me.” She studied the room, trying to see it as Greg did. Compared to the five star hotels he usually stayed in, she supposed it was primitive. But this house provided the finest accommodations she'd ever known on a site. Usually, her bed was a cot or a sleeping bag and the roof over her head was a canvas tent.
“I don't know how you can say that I'm roughing it,” she said. “I've even got family pictures.” On a round marble table beside the austere single bed stood a double picture frame. One half held a photo of her mother on her wedding day; the other side contained a black-and-white snapshot of her father and a dirty-faced seven-year-old on a camel with the Great Pyramid of Giza in the background.
“And a wardrobe to hold your extensive collection of high fashion.”
Elena chuckled as he motioned to a duffle bag on the floor in the corner overflowing with shorts, tees, and jeans. “That's not all I own,” she defended, motioning toward a little black dress that hung beside a well-worn sweatshirt that read
TEXAS A
&. The M had been chewed off by some fuzzy rodent on a dig in Colorado.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him again. “I am sorry that I ruined your evening. When are they expecting you to meet the ship?”
“Early tomorrow morning. I told them it wasn't possible for me to be there today. They're sending a helicopter for me at eight a.m.”
“So we have what's left of today and this evening.”
He tightened his arm around her. “I meant what I said, lady. I'd like to make you Mrs. Hamilton, even if you won't accept a job with the company.”
“I agreed to dinner, nothing more,” she reminded him. “I like you a lot, but I'm not sure that's enough to talk about getting serious.”
“You
like me a lot
? Elena, we've been dating for over a year. And neither of us is getting any younger. Mom and Dad are adamant about being grandparents while they're still young enough to enjoy the little rug rats.”
She chuckled. “Thanks for reminding me that Social Security looms.” She wasn't twenty anymore, but she was hardly retirement material. She'd be thirty-four … no, thirty-five on her next birthday. But she wasn't sure she wanted to think about kids yet. She still had so much she wanted to achieve before she added more responsibilities to her life. And the responsibility for a child was a big one.
And then there was the matter of if she loved Greg?
He was fun to be with, but love? She wasn't sure she knew what love between a man and woman was. She'd thought her parents loved one another, once. But when her father had lost everything, their marriage had faded. No giant split, no fireworks, just polite silence. And a quiet divorce … months before her father was lost at sea.
“No rings, and no ‘until death do us part,' ” she said. “Couldn't you just settle for dinner and a walk on the beach here in Rethymo?”
“You're a tough nut,” Greg said. “But I'll take what I can get. Dinner sounds good. I'd like to wrap my teeth around some authentic Greek shish kebab and aged retsina. I presume you know the cafés in town.”
“It's early yet, and it wouldn't hurt you to unwind after your flight from the States. How about a swim? We can borrow Stefanos's Vespa, and there's a lovely sand beach at Agia Galini. Did you bring something to swim in?”
“Don't know. Mom has Pilar pack for me, but my luggage went on to meet the ship on the mainland.”
“We'll buy you a pair. There's a shop a few blocks from here.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“We'll have to hurry before they close for the afternoon. This is Crete, not Houston. Everyone here goes home for a meal and a civilized nap.”
“Lead on, woman. I'm in. Just don't expect me to give up on our making things official between us.” He grinned. “Where are you going to get a better offer?”
“Where, indeed?” She laughed. “Successful, handsome, and modest. How could any woman refuse?”
“Seriously,” he said. “With the Hamilton fortune and Dad's influence at Texas A & M, you're guaranteed to be able to continue your little expeditions, if that's what you want.”
“You're trying to bribe me?”
“Damn it, Elena. I want to marry you. What good is family money if it doesn't get me what I want most?”
“It's one way of looking at it, I suppose.”
“It's the only way,” he assured her. “So, considering all the perks, will you marry me?”
“I'll think about it,” she promised, “but don't get your hopes up. I don't make big decisions lightly.”
“Fair enough, but you should know that once I set my mind on having something, I don't stop until I get it.”
 
Caddoc closed the stone door, successfully muffling Halimeda's screams. He hurried down the corridor and took the first flight of stairs leading up and away from his suite. He'd done as his mother asked, ordered a feast to be brought to his rooms. But for some reason, she'd been unable to eat a bite. Why or how such a thing was possible, he didn't want to guess. It smelled of Melqart and sorcery, and he wanted no part of it.
When he'd fled the room, she'd been tearing down the bed hangings and flinging them at him.
As if it were his fault
. Whatever bargain she'd made with the Phoenician god of war, it had nothing to do with him. He didn't know how she'd gotten into his quarters or how she'd get out. So long as he didn't bear the blame, he didn't care.
As he passed through a courtyard and into another maze of hallways, Caddoc caught sight of a familiar face, that of his half-sister Morwena. She wasn't alone; a brat was with her—the changeling that his brother Morgan and wife had adopted as their own child.
“Sister,” he called. “I've not seen you since my return to Atlantis. You look well.”
Very well, indeed,
he thought. Her lime-green tunic was woven of the thinnest sea grass and concealed little of her ample bosom and womanly curves. The short length and plunging neckline left Morwena's shapely throat, arms, and legs exposed. “And who is this precious little one with you?”
“I'm Danu,” the child said. She flashed a dimpled smile as Morwena jerked her back and stepped in front of her.

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