The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (25 page)

They had reached Ian
’
s tent.

As if he
’
d been summoned, Ian emerged with a camera tripod balanced on his shoulder.
He stopped when he saw her, and smiled.
“
Hey.
”

She hadn
’
t realized how much she
’
d missed his voice.
Her whole body responded to the sound.
She had to force herself not to move toward him.
“
Hi.
”

The corner of Ian
’
s mouth curled upward.
“
Making another coffee run?
”

She laughed.
“
No, just the usual supplies.
Do you need anything?
I could pick it up.
”

“
No, I
’
m good here.
”
He glanced at Flintrop.
His eyes narrowed a fraction.
“
Flintrop.
”

“
Waverly,
”
Flintrop responded dryly.
“
Sara, we
’
re losing good daylight.
Shall we go?
”

She saw Ian
’
s jaw clench and she frowned, wanting more than anything to stay.
“
Yeah, I
’
ll be right there.
”

Flintrop started away, clearly unwilling to do so.
For a few seconds, Sara looked at Ian, expecting him to say something, but he didn
’
t.
With an inward sigh, she made to follow Flintrop.

Ian grabbed her hand.
Surprised, she turned back.

The inlet,
he mouthed.

Her heart thudded.
She lingered on his lips, remembering the way they had burned against her skin.
She glanced around to see if Flintrop was watching—he wasn
’
t, thank God—then nodded and jogged away.
The whole time, she felt Ian
’
s gaze on her, and her body pulsed like a sonar signal in response.

She stayed silent during the ride to Unst.
To her relief, Flintrop followed suit for almost the whole trip.
When they moored the boat at their destination, he asked,
“
So what
’
s with this biologist, anyway?
How
’
d he wind up on Hvitmar?
”

She bit the inside of her cheek.
She
’
d been waiting for that.
“
Why does everyone have such an abiding interest in him?
He
’
s here to study birds.
”

“
Don
’
t you think it
’
s a little well-timed that he
’
s here when we are?
”

“
Yes.
It
’
s all a conspiracy.
He
’
s here to rob us of our nonexistent Viking treasure.
We might as well just kill him.
”
She threw her hands in the air with an exasperated growl, privately hoping it concealed her true feelings...and fearing that it didn
’
t.

For the first time in her life, she
’
d lied to Lamb.
Ian wasn
’
t just a friend.
What she felt for him went beyond friendship into something much more unsettling.
She could hardly look at him without wanting to touch him.
She could hardly touch him without wanting to find out where touching him led.

“
A bit irritable, aren
’
t you?
”
Flintrop asked.

She sneered.
“
Between you and Lamb expecting Ian to be at the center of some big plot, yes, I
’
m irritable.
”

Flintrop cocked his head.
His cobalt gaze roved across her features.
“
You
’
re attracted to him, aren
’
t you?
”

“
What business is it of yours if I am or I
’
m not?
”

He stepped around a group of fishermen heading out to the marina.
“
I
’
ve known you for almost ten years, Sara.
You don
’
t let people get close to you.
What is it about Waverly?
What
’
s he got on you?
”

Unease buzzed through her.
“
You
’
ve got some nerve, thinking you know anything about how I tick.
”
Turning on her heel, she tromped forward down the dock.

“
I do know.
I
’
ve made it my business to know,
”
he said, pursuing her.

She came to an abrupt halt.
“
What on earth is that supposed to mean?
”

He sighed.
“
Dating Faith was possibly the worst mistake I
’
ve ever made.
I didn
’
t want to be with Faith.
I never wanted
her
.
”

She stopped.
Soaked that in.
Kicked herself.
“
You
and
me
?
Nothing could possibly be more unlikely.
”
Shaking her head, she started walking again.

He jogged in step with her.
“
Why not?
We
’
ve worked together for a long time—
”

“
You mean you
’
ve been usurping my projects for a long time.
”

“
Don
’
t.
Don
’
t turn this into another pitched battle.
I don
’
t want to fight with you.
”

“
You should have thought about that before you took
every single project
I started that Gemini didn
’
t get to finish.
You
’
re a scavenger, Flintrop.
”

With a dark look, he grabbed her by the arms.
She wrestled in outrage, but he held fast.
“
What other way did I have to get close to you?
Everything you are is in your work, Sara.
It was all I had to go on.
”

She dropped into a stunned silence.
Her entire body flamed with embarrassment.
She felt foolish even asking it.
“
Are you...in love with me?
”

He didn
’
t answer.
A pained look crossed his clean-cut features.

“
Oh, my God.
”
She fled away down the dock.

During the awkward trip into town, their taxi driver kept up a stream of chatter that, to Sara’s relief, distracted Flintrop from speaking to her. When they arrived in town, she paid their driver and they got out of the cab. She couldn’t look at Flintrop. Without comment, she started for the first general store she saw.

Locals and tourists alike crowded the tiny shop.
Two elderly women stood at a table along one end of the store, presiding over a large array of hand-knitted sweaters, jewelry, giftware, and homemade foodstuffs.
“
Is there a party going on in town this week?
”
Sara wondered, surveying the multitude of shoppers.

One of the women smiled in answer.
“
We
’
re having a spring fundraiser.
Would you like to try a tart?
”

“
No, thank you.
”
Sara drifted along the table to the other end, where her gaze landed on a small rack of tour flyers.
The one in front read
Hermaness National Nature Reserve
, and featured a large, mottled-brown bird on the front.
She longed suddenly to rush back to Hvitmar, and Ian.
Her imagination picked up where it had left off earlier.
She was once again in his tent, kissing him, running her hands over his broad shoulders, lifting her chin so he could press kisses along her throat...

Flintrop passed behind her.
She tore her gaze away from the brochure to a folded stack of sweaters resting nearby.

The second woman reached for the sweater on top and unfolded it.
“
These are all made right here in Unst.
This one would look beautiful on you.
Did you want to try it on?
”

“
Oh.
Thank you, but no,
”
she murmured, moving on.

Her gaze landed on an assortment of books, including a thin, garish softcover titled
The Sleeping Princess
.
The cover bore an illustration of what appeared to be Sleeping Beauty, her long blond hair strewn across the stone dais on which she lay.
Sara took it for a common children
’
s book, until she saw what dangled from the prone woman
’
s hand in the drawing:

The amulet.

Or, if not the amulet, a necklace that could have been its cousin.
Sara glanced behind her.
Flintrop stood across the shop, surveying the available grocery items.
She pasted an expression of polite interest on her face and picked up the book.

The necklace in the drawing didn
’
t exactly match the one hidden under her sweatshirt.
No Celtic knot graced the pendant.
The serpent didn
’
t intertwine with anything; rather, it circled the outer perimeter of the discus, but its center bore a gold-colored oval.
She flipped through the pages, not really seeing them, and smiled at the elderly woman.
“
I
’
d like this, though.
And on second thought, maybe a couple of those tarts.
”

She waited on edge while the woman rang up her purchases.
She had just finished putting the book in a paper bag when Flintrop returned to her side.
“
What did you get?
”

“
Just some touristy magazines,
”
she lied.
“
Oh...and a peace offering.
”
She handed him the small bag of tarts.

He shifted his groceries to one arm and looked inside the bag.
“
Snack food.
How astute.
Thank you.
”

She tucked the bag containing her book under one arm.
“
We
’
d better go.
Are you finished getting supplies?
”

He nodded and let her lead the way out the door.
They returned to the boat, and she drove them back to the island.
Sara spent half the ride with part of her attention on their route, part on the awkward pre-shopping conversation with Flintrop, and the rest hovering anxiously on the little book in the bag by her feet.

As they neared the island, Flintrop took out one of the tarts and bit into it.
His gaze settled on her like a cement block.
“
Are you going to get all distant for the rest of the project now?
”

“
What do you think that peace offering was about?
”
she asked over the hum of the boat
’
s motor.

He held up the tart.
“
While appreciated in its own right, pastry doesn
’
t necessarily denote reciprocal sentiments.
”

It took a few minutes to find words.
“
Let me just say this,
”
she said.
“
I
’
ve spent the past ten years not liking you.
Right now, pastry is about all I
’
ve got to spare.
”