Timeless (44 page)

He patted her shoulder and moved on down the scaffold.

Regan knelt on the planking and reached for her brush.

“She did that on purpose. Anyone with two eyes could see that,” Sheary said, outrage clear in her tone and expression.

“It’s okay. Now she knows I’m turning them in, she’ll be more careful.”

“Perhaps you can report her for harassment. Who hired her, anyway?” Sheary asked.

“Nicodemus.”

“Shite.”

“Exactly.”

They had fallen back into a companionable silence when she said, “You said
is
before. It
is
a place of healing.”

Regan frowned.
A slip of the tongue.

“You speak of the henge as though it’s still a viable place of worship or—whatever it is— was.”

“Perhaps the habit here of merging the past and the present has rubbed off on me. After all, Robert the Bruce is still alive and well in Edinburgh castle, for all intents and purposes.”

Sheary laughed. “Too bad he isn’t. You could send for him to slay the she-dragon.”

“She-shark, she-dragon. You’re much too nice.” Regan forced a smile. “But if ol’ Rob were about, I’d be tempted to give him a call.”

“Are you going to tell Quinn about what happened?”

Regan shook her head.  There was nothing he could do. And if he tried, it might cause him more trouble. “I can take care of myself.”

*****

“You and your team have done an admirable job, Quinn. But now the stones are recovered and have been seated in place, you’ve finished everything that was stipulated in your contract—and then some.” Fergus Fraser slid an envelope across the desk.  “You’ll find a healthy bonus in there for all the extra work you’ve done. Nicodemus has been very generous. And he’s included letters of recommendation for a couple of other jobs he thought you might be interested in. They’re yours if you want them.”

Quinn had known this was coming, but it was still hard to wrap his mind around. He couldn’t leave Regan. But he had no excuse to offer Rob and Logan for staying. And he had a responsibility to them, to their business, to all the men who worked for him.
Jesus, what was he to do?

“What will be your next job?”

“We’ve a contract to recover a cargo vessel in the channel just off the coast. She capsized and her cargo went down with her, so we’ll have to unload her first.”

“Sounds like risky business,” Fraser said.

“Aye. Not much about salvaging is safe. “Once we get her afloat, we’ll tow her into harbor.”

“Were the crew spared then?”

“Aye. I believe there were a few hurt, but everyone survived.”

“At least you won’t have to worry about body recovery.”

“No, thank God,” he said with feeling.

Quinn retrieved the envelope and held it in the hand covered by the brace. He forced himself to his feet. “I’ll go tell the lads.”

“How’s the hand?” Fraser asked.

Quinn studied the brace covering his right hand. It remained a necessary lie and one that tweaked his conscience every time he was asked about it. “A nuisance. I’ll have to wear this for a bit more. The bruising is almost gone.”

“Very good. I’m glad there’ll be no lasting effects from the accident.”

With Fraser’s thanks, he left the office.

His stomach roiled.
How can I leave Regan? Especially now
?

But Rob and Logan weren’t ready to carry the responsibility of the business, nor had they the technical training to plan and carry out the salvage jobs he had scheduled.

Sick or not, he didn’t trust Nicodemus as far as he could throw the bastard. And what had become of the digital recording of Regan’s session? Who had the recorder? As yet, it hadn’t surfaced. He’d be leaving Regan in a situation that could be dangerous.

But she could come away with me.
Without her, the chances they would figure out how to work the henge were slim. They’d warned Coira about the threat to her baby, surely that was enough. But could he convince Regan to leave?

As he exited the office, his attention settled on the henge. The late afternoon sun touched the ring of stones with gold.  The two taller stones, connected by a lintel, looked like a gate or doorway leading to the altar.

This is how it looked seven hundred years ago
. Déjà vu struck him, and chill bumps erupted on his arms. No wonder people of that time thought the henge a place of evil.

He strode down the hill and jogged across the road bisecting the dig. Local tourists had parked their cars and gathered at the fence. Some climbed the slope above to take pictures of the site.

“Hey mister,” a teenager called from down the fence. “When will they be opening the place so we can get a look?” he asked. His American accent sounded different from Regan’s.

Quinn answered as he neared him. “‘Twill be another six months at least. The ground is still marshy, and there’s some areas that will have to be reinforced before allowing the public to walk about.”  God forbid some unsuspecting tourist should fall through the opening of the chamber. “ And the equipment and scaffolding will have to be removed.”

Disappointment flickered across the teen’s features, and then impatience. “’I’ll never get to see them.  We may never come back to Scotland again.”

“The stones have been here for forty-six hundred years. They’ll not be going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to find a way.”

Quinn closed the gate behind him and continued down the slope. The workers on the dig were breaking for the day. He nodded to a group and pressed on.  Henry and Stephen passed him with a word of greeting, and he raised a hand to acknowledge them. The envelope with the check inside lay like a knife in his palm.

*****

Regan picked up her pad and pencil. She sat down, and resting her back against one of the supports to the scaffolding, and opened her drawing pad.

“Have you not had enough of the place?” Sheary asked.

Regan forced a smile. “I just need a moment to unwind, and drawing seems to help me do that. I’ll meet you back at the cabin in an hour.”

“All right, but if I haven’t seen you by then, I’m coming back for you. There are other stones to uncover in Scotland. And their last name is Douglas.”

Regan’s smile came more easily with the mention of Quinn and his brothers. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Thought that might offer you some incentive.” Sheary laughed and giving a wave, walked down the scaffold to the steps.

Henry squatted down beside her, and she looked up from the pad. He’d been keeping his distance for some time, but his expression held a touch of concern as he studied her. “I’m sorry Dr. Frost is being a bitch to you,” he said.

Regan bit her lip. “I hoped no one else had noticed our run-in.”

“It was hard to ignore.”

She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “Hannah told me you’d had a visit from your family while I was gone to Edinburgh,” she said.

“Yeah. Dr. Fraser was kind enough to give me a few days off so I could visit with them. They flew in unexpectedly. My grandfather had a small cottage in the Aberdeen area. When he passed away, he left it to my mother’s family. My family flies over about twice a year to stay for a week or two.”

“Lucky you. I suspected there might be some Scots blood in your ancestry.” She braced her hands on the scaffold and scooted up on the platform..

“Why do you say that?”

“Have you looked in the mirror, Henry? You have all the classic facial markers for English or Scottish decent. Your auburn hair and freckles might point in that direction just a tad as well.”

He smiled. “What about you?” he asked.

“I’m uncertain about my lineage. What would you say?”

“You’re too exotic to pinpoint.”

Regan’s brows rose in surprise.

The tops of Henry’s ears turned bright red and he looked away.

“Exotic enough to be a mutt. Too many lines to follow,” she said trying to spare him his embarrassment.

“Have you tried to find your biological family?” he asked.

“Once. I ran into so many dead ends, and it upset my mother so much, I gave up.”

“Once the dig ends, maybe you should pursue it,” he said rising to his feet. “You’re so interested in the past. It might do you good to discover your own history.”

Once again he had surprised her, and she bent her head back to look up at him.

“See you.” He made a brief gesture, and strode up the scaffold to the stone steps.

The other team members left one by one, and silence settled over the chamber, easing Regan’s tension. She leaned her head back against the narrow pole and studied the massive blocks before her. Her arms ached from the tedious work of cleaning and recording every inch of the slabs. She set aside the sketchbook and scooted across the plank walkway to kneel before the blocks.  She ran a questing hand over the edges allowing her fingertips to linger on each small mark.

At the sound of footsteps on the stone stairs she turned.

“Are they telling you their secrets, Regan?” Quinn asked.

“No. Not even a whisper.” Her gaze studied the deep crags in his cheeks and the appealing masculinity of his features as he traversed the distance between them.

“Perhaps everything is over for us, then,” Quinn said.

It would never be over until Nicodemus had his answers—or he died. God help her, she didn’t wish him dead, but she wanted free of him—and this place.

Quinn sat down next to her. “I’ve not had a dream since we’ve been back.”

“Neither have I.”

“Then maybe, we’ve settled things for them.”

It didn’t feel over— “It’s only been a few days.”

Quinn laid an envelope in her lap.

“What is it?”

“We’ve been released from the job. Fraser says we’re finished here.”

Her stomach dropped and her throat grew tight. Regan opened the envelope and slipped the papers out. She studied the check. Her face felt numb. He was a distraction, and Nicodemus wanted him gone.

What would she do without him?

How would she bear this alone?

She focused on the letters of recommendation for fear she would cry if she looked at him.  “You’ve gone above and beyond for Fraser. You deserve the letters and the extra work.”

Quinn made a cutting motion with his hand. “I want you to come with me when we leave, Regan.”

Did he want her because he loved her? Did he truly care about her, or was it just a residual attachment from the past?

Did that even matter with Nicodemus’s threats hanging over them both?

Her voice didn’t want to work. “I can’t, Quinn. You know I can’t. I have to see this through.”

 “We don’t know who has the recording. You could be in danger.”

“If I break the contract I signed with Nicodemus, they’ll revoke my work visa and send me home.”

“You can reapply.”

“This is the most important discovery in archaeology— possibly ever, Quinn. If I walk away from this—I won’t work again in my field. The archaeology community is small. If I get a reputation for being undependable, or for walking away from a project without a damn good reason, I’ll lose credibility. I want to have a life after this, Quinn. I owe my parents that.”

He grasped her arm, his fingers pressing into her flesh almost painfully. “This could be your life, Regan. The longer you stay here, the greater the risk that something may lead Nicodemus to your connection with Coira.”

“Not as long as I’m the only one who knows about it.”

“But you aren’t. Whoever has the recording knows.”

A crack of thunder brought her head around to the stairway. Great. Now a storm was coming up.

“But they haven’t figured out what’s going on, yet.” Would there even be a record of Coira and Braden’s existence? And where would the information be hidden? She didn’t have a choice. She had to hope they didn’t find any information about the couple.

“You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for over the last five years. It would be like asking you to give up diving.” She shook the papers she still held. “ Or your business.”

He ran his hand over his face. “I can’t stay, Regan. Rob and Logan aren’t ready to take on the responsibility of the kind of recoveries we’ll be doing. And the other lads are depending on our business to support their families.”

Her throat hurt, a knot of tears banding it. “I know.”  She shoved the envelope and papers into his hand. He folded them in half and stuffed them in jeans pocket.

Their lives were once again traveling parallel to their alter egos. God, when would this end?

She thrust her fingers through her hair and pushed it back from her face. “Were you expecting our relationship to be permanent, Quinn?” He remained silent so long she raised her head to look at him.

“I wanted an opportunity for us to be together without all this other shite.”

To be sure.
The words hung between them unspoken.

Pain ballooned inside her. She nodded. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Regan.”

She nodded again unable to speak. At least he’d be safe. She tried to draw comfort from that thought.

She stared down at the partially completed drawing to focus on anything but the pain as it rolled over her, crushing her, smothering her. The dank smell of the mud grew suddenly overpowering.

Her hands didn’t want to work as she closed the sketchpad. With an effort, she rose to her feet. “I promised Sheary I wouldn’t stay long. She’ll worry if I don’t show up at the cabin soon.” Her chest ached so drawing breath hurt. “When will you be leaving?”

Quinn got to his feet. “’Twill take a couple of days to gather and load our equipment.” Lines bracketed his mouth as he compressed his lips. He looked suddenly tired.

When he ran a hand down her back, she stilled the urge to flinch. Every touch they had shared, every look, played through her mind at light speed. She didn’t need him to touch her now.

“I don’t want to leave you, Regan.”

But you are.
The words screamed through her head as loud as the thunder. She bent to shove the sketchbook inside her backpack.  “You’re leaving all the craziness behind.”