Timeless (15 page)

Regan flipped face down and slipped off the edge of the dock into the boat, but was reluctant to sit on any of the seats. She knelt on the floor instead. He gave her a nod and turned the ignition.

A stiff breeze whipped across the loch making the water choppy. The boat bounced and she clenched her teeth as her knees took the brunt of it. Quinn steered the boat into the cove and the water smoothed. He cut the engine, and guided the skiff up against the dock.

Regan grasped the back of one of the seats and heaved herself to her feet. A flush heated her cold cheeks when he placed his hand on her muddy backside and gave her a boost up onto the dock.

“If you’ll wait outside for just a few minutes, I’ll pull my clothes off at the door. I’ll let you know once I’m done so you can come in.

He nodded. “You look right pinched with cold. Give a yell if you need a hand.”

She studied his expression. The thought of his taking her clothes off, no matter what the circumstances, gave her a jittery, breathless feeling.

The warmth of the house barely permeated the bone-deep chill as she stepped into the small living room and started tugging off her sodden clothing. She knocked twice on the door, to let Quinn know she was finished, and shuffled off to the bathroom.

She stood under the shower with the water beating her as hot as she could bear it until she was warm and clean. Conscious of Quinn waiting, she rushed to dress in her warmest sweater and fresh jeans and then towel-dried her hair.

When she entered the living room, he was standing at the window looking out at the loch. He turned to face her. Beneath his cool exterior she sensed a seething impatience and something more. Without warning, he grasped her arm and pulled her close. When his arm looped around her to draw her against him, she stiffened in surprise.

He thrust his hand through her hair and cradled her head. She looked up at him. Her heart drummed against her ribs and a weighty, weak feeling invaded her lower limbs.

“This is the second time in two weeks you’ve almost died.” His deep voice sounded husky.

She rested her hands against his chest, the muscles there tight. “You’ve been there to save me both times.”

“I might not make it next time.”

Behind narrowed lids, his gaze glittered green and intent. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

“Regan. You have to be more careful.” His arm tightened, holding her closer. He opened his eyes and his gaze fastened on her lips. She fought the urge to moisten them.

Would his kiss be as intense as Braden’s? Would it feel the same?

Braden.

Quinn.

Were the two of them so tangled up in her head she couldn’t separate them? She studied Quinn’s face and traced the deep groove in his cheek with a fingertip. His skin, beard roughened and warm, tempted her. He was familiar, and more real than any vision.

“Quinn—” she said just above a whisper.

He bent his head, but hesitated, his mouth only inches from hers. He started to withdraw and her hands fisted in his sweater. ”Quinn—” His name came out on a sigh. She had to know. She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

*****

As their mouths touched, desire thrummed through Quinn. Sensation rippled downward to settle in his groin, and he grew hard. The taste and feel of her was new, yet familiar. As he breathed in the clean scent of her skin, her hair, the fragrance changed to one of flowers and spice. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed through his mind making him dizzy. Regan lying naked on a dark pelt of fur, Regan welcoming him inside her body, her moans of pleasure driving his own desire higher. But not Regan. He had never been with her.

A sweet rush of love and tenderness crashed over him like nothing he had ever experienced. His mouth slanted across hers, and his tongue delved into her mouth reaching for hers. It had been so long since he’d had this, an eternity.

Regan’s hands beneath his sweater against his back helped him shake free of the memories. He needed to stop, to get away from her, but his feet seemed planted into the wood of the floor. A compulsive need urged him to mold her closer, to hold on tight. He broke the kiss. ”Regan—”

Her eyes looked large and drowsy with desire, her lips berry red. He slipped his hands beneath her sweater to stroke and caress the bare width of her back. She was warm and real. Memory and reality clashed and fought in his head. “We shouldn’t do this, lass.”

Her hands cupped his face. “Just one more, and we won’t.” She drew his lips back and her tongue tangled with his. He groaned as she rose on tiptoe again to fit herself against him more fully.

The intrusive feelings and thoughts receded and it was Regan, all Regan. Relief had him tightening his arms, molding her closer. The kiss went on and on.

His breathing ragged, he turned his face against her throat to nibble the tender skin and trace, with his lips, the edge of her jaw to her ear. She shuddered as he nipped the tender lobe and drew it into his mouth.

“Quinn—” Her soft, husky tone did things to him he couldn’t control or resist.

“Just one more, eh?” he murmured and drew back to look down at her, his lips twitching with sudden humor.

Her flushed cheeks, darkened to a deeper pink. “I didn’t want to regret missing out on something I’ve been curious about.”

He raised one brow as he studied her face. “And did I satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes.” She shifted to rest her head against his chest.

He tightened his arms about her. “And what would you have been curious about?” He cupped the back of her head, holding her close.

“If you kiss as well in person, as you do in my dreams.”

“I kissed you on the dock once before.”

“Yes, but not like this.”

“You’ve been dreaming about me?”

“You, or an identical facsimile.”

Her answer had his muscles tensing for it brought the experience he’d just had back to the forefront. God, he had no business getting involved with her. If there wasn’t a conflict of interest professionally, there was conflict of a different kind brewing. This was just asking for trouble—for them both.

The way she fit against him felt all too right. But she was eccentric, if not daft. Twice already she had proven that, hadn’t she? He didn’t need to become involved with a mad American woman destined to return to her own country after a few months.

But was she truly unbalanced? The clash between reality and memory he had just fought pointed out to him there was truly something unusual happening. And not just that.

What about the voice he’d heard calling his name?

With reluctance he said, “You asked me how I came to write the song.”

She drew back to look up at him. “You said it came to you in a dream.”

“Aye, it was a dream, but—” How could he explain? He drew a deep breath. “I was outside, surrounded by woods. And there were men about me. Some of them were hurt and lay on the ground. There were wrappings tied about their arms, legs, their heads, red with blood. A man moved from one to another offering them water.”

He looked out at the loch. Even now, just remembering inspired feelings of grief so strong it lay like stone in his chest. “There was a lad there, no more than twelve or thirteen. He had a terrible gash down the side of his face. He yelled in pain every time a man pushed a heavy needle through his skin to close the wound.” He clenched his eyes shut against the memory.

“I felt tired. More weary than I had ever felt. And I wanted to go home. Prayed to go home with ever’thin’ that was in me.”

Quinn swallowed against the knot of emotion that rose in his throat. “That’s when I heard the music. At first it was just a hum inside my head but it grew stronger. I retrieved a flute from a bundle close to the fire and began to play the tune. It seemed to soothe the men and eased the hurt inside me.”

He opened his eyes to find her watching him with a frown.

“When I woke, I wrote down the tune so I wouldn’t lose it.”

“There were no lyrics to the music?” she asked.

“No. Not until you sang them the other night.”

“I didn’t steal your song and write lyrics to it, Quinn. I swear it. The only areas of the ship I had access to were the head, the galley, and my cabin. I didn’t go into your cabin.”

“I know.”

He smiled wryly at her look of surprise. “I’ve had some time to stew about it.” He stepped back from her.

Her brows rose. “What about the lyrics?”

He remained silent debating. “I don’t know, lass.”

Her features grew tight. Fear pinched her lips at the corners. Her voice sounded breathy and weak when she said, “Something is happening to us, Quinn.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. Was he just buying into a fantasy she had somehow created?

But she hadn’t caused his dreams. And what of the memories he had just experienced of making love with her?

And what about the voice that had called to him when she was in trouble? He raked both hands through his hair as anger tightened his chest and heated his skin. “I don’t like being driven in the direction someone else has chosen for me.”

“And just who do you think might be driving you? Me?”

Quinn dropped his hands and faced her. Not her, but who?

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I need your help, Quinn. I don’t have much time.”

Something in her tone made him wary. He wasn’t going to be used again. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get the bloody stones raised and move on. “I’m not playing about with you, lass.”

She searched his face and her chin went up. “Do you really think that’s what I’m doing, playing about?” Her eyes grew glassy as though she might cry. She looked away.

Though the desire was strong, he stifled the urge to soften toward her.

“I’ll not be used to further your career, Regan. I’ve been about the block with that one before, and once was enough.”

She turned back to him. “I’m sure it’s going to further my career to admit— ” She broke off and moved her hand in a cutting action. “I’ve worked hard to get here. I’ve worked harder to earn my colleagues’ respect. Just what could I hope to gain by making claims no one’s going to believe? Nothing. In fact, I’ll lose all credibility if anyone finds out about this.”

What she said was true but still—no matter how much he wanted her, he didn’t want to be drawn into this. “It’s too much to expect, Regan. Whatever is at work here, I don’t want any part of it.”

Her expression reflected disappointment before her lips compressed. She ran her fingers through the curling bangs that grazed her forehead. “Fine, I’ll figure things out by myself. Go back to
Grannos
where you belong. I’ll walk back to the site on my own when I’m finished here. After all, just in case someone gets wind of my crazy notions, you won’t want anyone thinking you associate with such a nutcase.”

Anger had his jaw tightening and he kept his tone even with an effort. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That isn’t really any of your concern anymore is it? You don’t want any part of it.”

With a murmured oath, Quinn swung around and headed for the door.

Before he opened it she said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all this to yourself. After all, I do have my career to think about.”

Quinn slammed out of the house. He made it almost to the skiff before guilt crashed through the anger, and his pace slowed.

“Bugger,” he breathed. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

CHAPTER 14

“Damn stubborn Scotsman,” Regan murmured beneath her breath as she scrubbed the mud from the floor just inside the front door. The physical labor helped her work off some of her anger, but not the disappointment that ached beneath her ribs.

The washer finished filling, and she rose to add detergent and the rag to the load. Once it had rotated and circulated the soap, she pushed the button to stop it and allow the clothes to soak.

She dropped into a chair to put on clean tennis shoes and sat staring at her sock covered feet. She needed someone to talk to about the situation. To share everything the stones were saying to her. She needed someone to believe in her.

“Damn him.” He didn’t want to accept what was happening.

Then why had she so easily done so when only a few hours before she’d been uncertain?

She had to believe, because the alternative was just too painful to face.

She touched her wrist. Because she had physical proof. Because she felt Coira’s belief every time she dreamed about her. She had to figure out what time frame the couple had lived. When she traveled to Edinburgh she needed some idea of what to look for.

And how was she to read the documents if they were written in Gaelic? She had a working knowledge of the language, but she certainly wasn’t an expert.

Regan thrust her fingers through her hair and pulled at the soft cap of curls in frustration. Hannah might be of help. But could she trust the woman with—no. She could create some excuse for them to do the research, a hunch or something.

She glanced at her watch. She had to get back to the site. She slipped on her shoes and retrieved her keys.

As she strode down the hill to the site, several of the other workers called out greetings, and asked how she felt. She called back a brief answer and moved on, eager to get back to work.

Reaching the row of buckets used to clean the stones, she stopped before the hose and twisted the metal knob to turn on the water. As the bucket filled, she added a squirt of cleaner from a bottle, and swished a brush around to mix it. A shadow fell across her and she looked up.

“Are you all right, Regan?” Henry asked his thin face set in a frown. He tugged at his baseball cap in a nervous gesture.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the bright yellow sawhorses placed around the hole into which she had fallen. “I see they’ve marked the opening. Has anyone said when or how they’ll be proceeding?”

“No. Stephen and I put the sawhorses around them to keep everyone away, just in case someone gets curious.”

Regan nodded.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”