Timeless (22 page)

“Do you not feel uneasy here?” Nathrach asked.

Braden leaned close to look into the man’s face. “They are stones made by God, fashioned by man, for what purpose we may never know. So, nay, Father, I feel no uneasiness. Are there any instances in the Bible where a place may be evil unto itself?”

Nathrach straightened and raised his chin. “Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“Was it not the people God destroyed there because of their sinfulness?” Coira asked, her voice soft. “Could he not have used the stone cities as his weapon to do it?”

The priest’s bird-like black eyes were swallowed by shadows and impossible for Braden to read their expression.

“You know God’s word?” Nathrach asked, his tone surprised.

“I do not worship with you, but it does not make me a heathen, Father. Nor anything else.”

In the moonlight reflected from the stones surrounding them, Nathrach’s features appeared skeletal. Braden shivered. The man represented more of a threat than any other force he’d experienced here? Should his ignorant superstitions overtake him—

“Why will you not worship with us?” Nathrach asked, his tone a challenge.

“Mayhap we do not need guilt, or the threat of damnation heaped upon us, to do what is right for our people, Priest,” Braden answered. “Everything Coira and I do is for their benefit.”

Nathrach’s jaw jutted forward. “You would look to doing it for the benefit of God as well.”

When priests start discussing the benefits owed to God, ‘twas usually tied to a purse for themselves. Was it money the man was after then? Anger tightened Braden’s jaw and quashed his uneasiness. “What has brought you to us this night?”

“I thought to, one last time, urge you to join your clan in worship.”

Braden bit back an impatient oath as Coira’s soft breast brushed his arm and she leaned against his side. Her hand closed about his and gave it a warning squeeze.

“We will discuss it, Father,” she said. “Perhaps a small tithe to show our fealty to God and the church would suffice until we make a decision.”

He bowed his head, in a show of humility. “A small donation would be a start.”

Braden removed a purse from his belt and tossed it on the altar.

Nathrach caught his breath, his gaze focusing on the bag. After a long pause, he reached for it with such fearful haste Braden grinned in amusement.

“Did you think something might reach through the stone and take it from you, holy man?” Braden asked. “Is your faith not stronger than rumor and superstition?”

The purse disappeared into the folds of Nathrach’s clothing. “How strong is your faith, Braden?”

“I have stayed the course during battle and faced hell on earth, and I remain here. I’m standing here without fear, as well, Priest. Can you say the same?”

Nathrach remained silent.

“Mayhap your next visit should be in daylight and announced beforehand.”

“Aye, m’lord,” he bowed. “I wish you both well.”

“As we do you, Father,” Coira said.

Coira’s fingers dug into his arm as they watched the priest disappear down the path and into the mist. “By challenging his faith you will only provoke him, Braden.”

“He will never admit that his faith is weaker than his fear, or that his greed is more than both.”

“Quinn wake up. Open your eyes, you dog faced wanker.”

Through narrowed eyes, still heavy with sleep, Quinn stared up at Struthers. He raised a hand to his arm where Coira’s breast had pressed. He could feel her warmth still lingering there. She had been there. He had been there. Groggy and disoriented, he rubbed a hand over his face. “What is it?”

“Your girl is on the com.”

His girl. Sleep dissipated instantly. He focused on Struthers’s frowning, unshaven face. “Is she all right?”

“Get up and ask her yourself. I’m going back to bed for another twenty minutes.”

Quinn raised his arm and glanced at his wrist. Five after seven. He swung out from under the edge of the bunk above him and grasped the COM receiver Struthers handed him.

“Aye, hello, Regan,” he said.

“Hey.” She paused. “I’m sorry I got you out of bed.”

Her voice so much like Coira’s in tone, held none of her Scottish brogue. It still grabbed him inside and gave him a shake. “It’s all right. Is something wrong?”

“Argus showed up at the cabin last night. He brought Hannah and me new computers.”

He had missed something. “Why new computers?”

“There was a break in the other night. Someone stole our computers.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Concern sharpened his tone. What was he going to do about it in here? “Never mind.” Quinn tamped down his irritation. Regan was smart she could take care of herself. He hoped. “Were they the only things taken?”

“Yes. They’re the only things worth taking, other than the television of course. The police think it was only one person because he took small things he could carry.”

“The four of you are sticking together, aren’t you? There’s safety in numbers.”

“Yes, we’re traveling in pairs. Watching each other’s backs. Stuff like this happens a lot on digs, so we know the drill.”

There was more. He could hear the tension in her voice. “But?”

“Argus gave me instructions. I’m to forward all my notes and the drawings I do of the stones directly to Nicodemus, before I turn them into Dr. Fraser.” She drew a deep breath. “When I say it out loud to you, it doesn’t sound as – I’m just a little hyper-sensitive.”

Quinn’s mind raced. “You’ve attracted his attention. Your ability has drawn his interest.” He remained silent a moment. “It’s one of two things. He’s thinking of a way to use you. Or he’s been so impressed by your drive he’s planning on keep an eye on your progress for future projects. He hasn’t approached you directly?”

“No, just Argus.”

Just Argus. The fear Braden had felt for Coira raced back to bite him. “Stay away from Argus, Regan. He may have his own agenda.”

“All right. How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

The velvety softness of her voice grabbed him right by the libido and he grew hard. “Aye, but ‘twill have to wait until I’m out of this tin can.”

She laughed. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sheary said you have phone sex here in the UK.”

Surprise warred with temptation. If they weren’t being taped—Hell, if they even had some privacy. “You need to stop running about with her. She’s not a good influence.”

Regan laughed again. “This coming from a man who hangs out with Salvage Divers.” He heard a whoop of laughter from one of the team in the control van. “I’ve heard how you guys talk when you think there aren’t any women around. Besides, I get the idea that she’s more talk than action. I know your brother hasn’t gotten as far as he’d like.”

“And how do you know that?”

“From the feverish look he has in his eyes every time he picks her up.”

Rob’s protest sounded muffled in the background.

Quinn smiled. “If she’s putting up a fight with Rob, my faith has been restored in womankind.”

“I’ll tell her you said so. You’ll be careful,” she said, her tone turning serious.

“Always, Lass.”

Her voice dropped back to a whisper. “Quinn—This is like—I feel like I’ve been thrown into the deep end of the pool without a life preserver, and I’m learning to swim all over again. It’s been hard for me to let anyone truly close.”

“Aye, for me, too. Having the choice taken out of our hands has confused things a wee bit, eh?”

“Yes. But it’s growing clearer for me now.”

A slow smile slid across his face as his pulse leapt. “’Tis my larger than life personality that’s impressed you, then.”

“I’m reserving final judgment until I see the whole package.”

Her soft breathy tone had him growing hard as the monoliths outside his window. He laughed to keep from groaning. “I’ll see if you’re still so bold when I’m not trapped inside this thing any longer.”

“I suppose we both will.” She hesitated as though wanting to say more. “Stay safe.”

“You do the same, lass.”

As he hung up the receiver, he turned to gaze out toward the bow of the boat. Regan paused and glanced back at the SAT modules and, seeing him looking out, smiled and raised a hand. He placed his palm against the porthole in return. She climbed down into a small aluminum Johnboat to return to the dock.

As he rolled back into his bunk, the cramped chamber resounded with the sound of air kisses from his two bunk mates. He laughed. “Sod off, the both of you.”

CHAPTER 21

As they moved through the line at the canteen, affectionately dubbed the Bait Bucket, Regan chose grilled salmon to go with her eggs, one of the cook’s specialties. “I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten fish for breakfast before I came here,” She said to Hannah as they waited to pay for their meal. “No, I take that back. I did try lox once with bagels. That must be an acquired taste, because I wasn’t really impressed.”

Hannah smiled. “You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten eel porridge.”

The idea of any kind of water snake cooked with oats popped into Regan’s head, and her stomach started doing weird jumping jacks that promised a quick return.

Hannah’s laughed. “I was just teasing. Don’t think about it.”

“That was easier done before you planted that picture in my head.” Regan handed her money to the cashier and turned to scan the tables for the rest of the students.

Rick rose from a table against the back wall and gave a wave.

“How are the new computers working out?” he asked as Regan and Hannah took a seat at the table with their trays.

“Very nicely, much faster than my old machine,” Hannah answered.

“It really sucks that they were stolen. You get used to a machine, adjust to all its idiosyncrasies, get all the software installed you like, and then some asshole takes it,” Henry said.

Regan laughed at his woeful tone. “It sounds as though you’ve been there.”

“Yeah, a couple of times, and it sucks.”

“Yeah, I have to say it does. But it’s wonderful having a replacement. I thought we’d go the rest of the summer using one of the office computers.”

“That would have been an inconvenience. I like to email my family every day. I promised my mutter I would,” Stephen said.

Rick groaned. “Oh man, you’re not supposed to admit that, dude.”

Regan caught Hannah’s eye and smiled.

“I find a man who emails his mother every day rather endearing,” Helen said from the end of the table. “That’s very considerate, Stephen.”

His grin flashed deep dimples in each cheek. “She likes to know I am safe and doing well.”

“As do everyone’s,” Regan said. “I emailed my family this morning. They weren’t as nervous about this trip as some of the others I’ve done. This dig is pretty tame, and we’re using saturation divers to do some of the more dangerous things.”

“In comparison to—?” Henry asked.

“Two hundred thirty foot dives in the open ocean.”

“I’ll agree with that,” he nodded.

“Wonder why we don’t train for SAT dives? Then we could do all the work,” Rick said. “I could really get into being able to spend more than fifteen minutes bottom time. And all the decompression would be done at once.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Henry agreed. “Imagine all the bottom time you’d have. Imagine all you could accomplish. But the cost would be astronomical, and the chances that we’ll ever work on a dig like this one again are just as slim.” He popped one of the fried potatoes, called chips, into his mouth with his fingers.

“There are quite a few archaeologists here who do hard hat diving. If you’re on any kind of deep archaeological dive they insist on it,” Hannah said as she cut her grilled salmon into bite-sized pieces with her fork.

Regan’s brows shot up. She quickly swallowed a bite of toast. “Have you done the training?”

“Yes. It’s difficult for women, because we have less muscle mass than the men and the suits are heavy out of the water. But it beats living in the pot, as the men call it, for weeks at a time. That would not be my idea of the best working environment.”

Regan looked down at her plate. Her stomach finally settling again, she cut up her own fish and tucked into her breakfast. “Quinn says you have no sense of taste or smell while you’re in the pot. So food is just eaten to feed your body for the twelve hours you have bottom time.”

“Jesus—twelve hour shifts working in water. You’d have to be strong as an ox,” Rick said then bit into his sandwich.

“It would definitely keep you in shape,” Henry agreed.

“I’d worry about the physical ramifications of working under pressure for that length of time,” Helen said as she brushed her chestnut hair away from her face with her hand and pushed away her plate.

“We have to worry about the joint problems and stuff that goes along with breathing compressed air and other mixed gases just as much,” Rick said. “Which would be the lesser of the two evils?”

In the midst of a debate between the pros and cons of different diving techniques, Regan rose to go to the restroom. A few minutes later she exited the facilities to discover Henry waiting outside.

His dark red hair stood on end in a manner consistent with his having just run his fingers through it more than once. His brows drew together in a frown over the straight long blade of his nose. “I wanted to speak to you without the others around. I know you’ve been avoiding me since we had the argument a few days ago.”

Regan nodded. “I was angry and needed a cooling off period, Henry.”

He dipped his head. “Me too. I haven’t been running my mouth to anyone. I know that’s what you think, but I haven’t.”

Regan studied his expression. “Good. I haven’t mentioned our disagreement to anyone either.”

He nodded. “I just want you to be careful, all right? More careful than you have been so far.”

If she agreed, she’d be admitting that she hadn’t been as cautious as she needed to be. And even if she hadn’t been, owning up to it to Henry rubbed her the wrong way. “I’m very aware of the safety issues of the dig, Henry. Dr. Fraser more than made the point the other day.”

“All right. I get it. I’d hate to see you hurt, Regan. We’ve known each other since we started freshman classes together.”