by Nora Roberts
“Everybody gets their own room.”
“I’ll take her up.” Riley rose. “Since we’re going to be friends.”
“Thank you. And thank you for the good stuff and the wine.”
After Riley took her out, Sawyer lifted his arms. “She was just there, standing on the beach. Like in the sketch. Just there.”
“And now she’s here.” Bran looked at Sasha. “What did you read?”
“Joy. So much joy I nearly burst with it myself. And an incredible sweetness. Is she holding something back? Yes, I’m sure she is. But everything she said about the stars, about this island, she believes is truth.”
“Clearly English isn’t her first language,” Bran speculated. “But if she needs to keep where she’s from to herself for now, it’s a small thing.”
He picked up the sketch. “She’s meant to be here, with us, and so she is.”
“Five down,” Sawyer said, “one to go.”
“Let’s hope the one to go waits at least until morning. I want some sleep.” Bran turned to Sasha. “You’re tired yourself.”
“I’m not used to introductions and powwows at nearly two in the morning.”
“I’ll wash this up.” Sawyer picked up the plate. “Go ahead. I’m right behind you.”
Bran took Sasha’s hand as they walked out and, testing, brought it to his lips. “Not angry anymore?”
“Oh, I’m still angry. I can put it aside for the big picture.”
“I get angry myself when I see you making yourself sick.”
“It’s my problem, my business.”
He flicked a nosegay of lavender out of the air, handed it to her at her door.
“Magic flower tricks don’t charm me.”
“They do. But more important, you’re my problem and my business now as well.”
Cupping a hand behind her head, he pulled her in, took her mouth in a quick, warm warning of a kiss. “You’ll have to deal with that as well. Good night, fáidh.”
She stepped quickly into her room, shut the door before she did something insane like pull him inside with her.
It hadn’t been a lover’s kiss, she told herself, as she traced a finger over her own lips. Not brotherly either. It was more . . . making a point.
That’s what she needed to remember.
He wasn’t attracted to her. They were teammates, and he was trying to keep her in line.
Well, she’d keep herself in line.
But she slept with the lavender on her pillow, and slept without dreams.
CHAPTER SIX
Sasha awakened to sun diamonds sparkling on blue water, and wondered at the turn her life had taken. Whatever came after, moments like this offered wild beauty. The idea of setting up her easel, trying to interpret that beauty on canvas had her pushing up in bed. Until she remembered she was part of a team, and the team had an agenda.
A team of five now, she thought, with the addition of the gorgeous and quirky Annika Waters.
She lifted the little nosegay from her pillow, held it to her nose. Immediately she was thrown back into that brief kiss, felt the warmth, the light pressure on her lips.
A team, she reminded herself. Not a romance, but a mission.
Though she’d do her duty, she gave herself the pleasure of throwing open her terrace doors, stepping out into that wild beauty. She smelled fruit and flowers and sea, gave herself the assignment of finding a watering can so she could tend the terrace pots, all filled with spearing and tumbling flowers in breathlessly hot colors.
She leaned on the iron railing, scanned the empty beach, then saw Annika topping the cliff steps. She wore a pink dress today, pale and pretty with a skirt that floated around her thighs as she started across the grass in bare feet.
She paused every few feet to sniff flowers, stroke leaves. When she looked up, saw Sasha, she beamed a smile, waved.
“Hello!”
“Good morning. You’re up and around early.”
“I don’t want to miss things, and I needed to swim.”
In what? Sasha nearly asked, then decided it wasn’t her business.
“Everyone was sleeping, but you’re awake now.”
“Yes, I am. I’m just going to get a shower and dress. I’ll be down soon.”
Sasha basked in the shower, wondered what it would take to have body jets installed in her shower at home—and thought whatever it took, it would be worth it.
Considering the agenda, she put on jeans, a tank, and a camp shirt, then laced up her hiking boots. She reordered her pack, lightening her load. And though it embarrassed her, even with no one to see, she took a sprig of lavender from the clutch and pressed it between the pages of the journal she’d bought for the journey.
Muttering at herself, she banded her hair back in a tail, and went downstairs.
She heard voices as she approached the kitchen, and caught the morning scents of coffee and bacon. Bran said he’d take breakfast, she remembered, and put on the casual smile she’d practiced in the mirror.
She walked in to see Annika frowning down at a mug of coffee. “Why doesn’t it taste the way it smells?”
“Too strong, is it? I don’t see the use of coffee unless it’s strong enough to stand up and dance, so I’ve a habit of brewing it that way.”
Bran stood at the stove, scooping bacon from the frying pan with a fork, tossing it onto a plate covered with paper towels. Casual, Sasha thought, and strolled in. “The stronger the better.”
Annika turned, held out the mug. “You would like it?”
“Thanks. There’s juice in the fridge if you’d rather.” At Annika’s blank smile, Sasha walked over, got out the pitcher. Then, as the woman seemed so pleasantly helpless, a glass.
Annika took a testing sip. “Oh! This is very nice. I like it much more than the coffee. I’m apology, Bran.”
“Sorry. You’re sorry,” he corrected. “And no need to be.”
“When did you learn English?” Keeping it casual, Sasha leaned back against the counter.
“English?”
“The language.”
“Oh. I know this one and some others. But sometimes the words are wrong. You can tell me when they are, and I can learn. Can you cook, like Bran?”
“I can cook.”
“You can teach me. It looks fun and smells nice.”
“Sure, I guess. But for now, maybe you could set the table.”
Annika pointed. “The table.”
“The one outside. We could have breakfast outside, on the patio. So you could set that table.”
“Where should I set it?”
With a laugh, Sasha put her coffee aside. “You could put the plates, the flatware, the napkins out. We’re five,” she said and chose five plates from the cabinet. “So five plates, five sets of flatware.” She opened a drawer. “And the napkins are in the top drawer of that breakfront.”
“I can set the table.” Annika rattled around in the silverware drawer, counting under her breath. When she had her supplies, carried them out, Sasha turned to Bran.
“She never answered the question.”
“Evaded it, charmingly.” He scooped potatoes he’d chipped and boiled out of the pot with a slotted spoon, dumped them in the frying pan. Grease snapped and sizzled. “She’s clever.”
“Part of me wants to pin her down, and the other part wants to watch it all evolve. I know there’s no harm in her.”
“Then the evolution might be more interesting. How did you sleep?”
“Fine. In fact, great. You?”
“The same.”
To keep busy, Sasha unwrapped the second—and last—round of bread, began to slice some for toast. “It looks like it’ll be a good day for hiking, though if we’re going to be exploring caves I guess it doesn’t matter much. I didn’t pack a flashlight—never thought of it, but—”
The knife clattered on the table as Bran spun her around.
“What—”
“Last night wasn’t enough.”
His mouth took hers. Then came the whirlwind.
Not the almost brotherly brush of lips, but a long, deep possession that spun everything she was into greed and need. For an instant, the storm blew in, all whipping wind, roaring thunder, and that bold, bright flash of lightning.
She wanted to leap into it, ride it, no matter where it took her.
But the risk, and the pain. She already knew the pain, knew it could shatter her beyond repair.
She pressed a hand to his chest, and he gave her a breath. His eyes—and she swore she saw worlds, wild worlds, swirling behind them—locked on hers.
“We’re a team,” she managed, and the hot, dangerous glint shifted into what might have been humor.
“That we are, fáidh, but you’re the only one I want for this.”
He lifted her to her toes and took her again.
He hadn’t been able to pry her out of his mind, to drain this singular desire out of his blood. There were countless reasons he should resist, to keep her as friend and teammate only. And only one reason to ignore all the rest.
That simple touch of lips the night before had lit something in him. He wanted to see how hot it might burn.
And she called to him, her wounded and courageous heart. Surely there was purpose there.
But beyond purpose, beyond reason, the fire burned.
“Oh, hell.”
He eased back at Riley’s voice, but kept his eyes on Sasha’s as Riley wandered in, Apollo happily at her heels.
“I figured you’d circle around that for at least another day or two.” She went straight to the coffee, grabbed a mug. “If you want privacy, try one of the bedrooms.” She poured her coffee, all but inhaled the first sip. “I’ll take the dog—the care and feeding thereof. And I nominate the new girl for chicken duty. Beginning after coffee. When’s breakfast?”
“Shortly.” Bran ran his hands down from Sasha’s shoulders, along her arms, then stepped back to the stove to put the pan he’d had the wit to take off the flame back again.
“Good. Starved.”
“I . . . need a watering can.”
Sasha turned quickly, aimed for the doors.
Riley shook her head at Bran, then a long glance at the dog sent Apollo trotting outside. “Office romances, Irish, sticky business and usually get somebody fired.”
“Lucky then, isn’t it, we’re not being paid.” He gave the potatoes a turn.
Sasha doubted the morning air would cool her skin, her blood, but she needed a moment just to stand in it, try to settle.
What should she do now? How did she behave now? He’d changed everything. Or no, she admitted, he’d pushed it along the path.
She looked over at the promontory, thought of the storm.
Apollo brushed up to her, nuzzled his great head under her hand. After her absent stroke, he raced off.
She needed to focus, Sasha warned herself. To concentrate on what needed to be done, not what she wished could be. Others depended on her keeping her balance, so—
She glanced over at the sound of laughter, watched Annika run in circles with the dog. She twirled, executing three very impressive cartwheels that had the dog letting out deep, joyful barks.
Sasha couldn’t stop the smile, and couldn’t stop the wish she could be just that free, just that carelessly happy she’d turn cartwheels on soft spring grass.
With a sigh, she turned toward the table. Stopped dead.
The plates fashioned a tower—four balanced on their rims holding the fifth, with a glass filled with wildflowers atop it.
She’d balanced the flatware as well, crossing pieces like swords to form a kind of arbor, and under it grass, clover, buttercups twined together. A shrubbery, Sasha realized, fascinated and charmed.
She’d draped napkins around the tall salt and pepper mills, like capes, and formed more grass into crowns to top them. Other napkins flowed out—bright blue. The sea, Sasha thought.
Glowing from her game with Apollo, Annika ran back.
“I set the table.”
“I see. It’s wonderful. A castle by the sea.”
“The rulers are giants,” Annika began. “Sawyer!” There was a joy—like cartwheels—in the single word.
“Yeah, morning.” He came out barefoot, gulping coffee, then studied the table presentation. “Wow.”
“Do you like it?”
“Very cool.”
“Breakfast’s up,” Riley announced, carrying out a platter loaded with bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast. She set it down, studied Annika’s work.
“Nice.”
Bran followed her out with the pitcher of juice, a pot of coffee. They all stood, studying the castle.
“Is it wrong?” Annika asked.
“Not at all,” Bran told her. “In fact it’s lovely and fun. We’re all wishing we didn’t have to take it down so we can eat.”
“Oh, I can make another. The food smells good.”
“Okay.” Riley rubbed her hands together. “Let’s sack the castle.”
Once they’d set the table in a more mundane fashion and passed around the platter, Riley turned to the dog, who sat, watching hopefully.
“That’s yours,” she told him, pointing to the bowl of kibble she’d set out. He heaved a sigh filled with disappointment, but moved off to eat. “So, we’ll look over the maps, but my best sense is to head south, follow the river into the hills. My intel says there’s a cave up there, multichambered, largely unexplored. The locals call it Anasa tou Diavolou. The Devil’s Breath. Sounds promising,” she added, forking up some eggs.
“What about underwater caves?” Sasha began, and Riley nodded as she ate.
“Got some on my list. But we’re going to need a boat, some gear. I’m working on that. Anybody know how to handle a boat? I’m okay with it, but I’m better with a canoe or a kayak.”
“Depends on the boat,” Sawyer put in.
“What sort of gear?” Sasha wanted to know.
“Snorkeling for certain, scuba most likely.”
“I’ve never done any scuba diving.”
“We’ve got a pool to practice in if we need to. I’m certified—or was. Probably still am.” Riley shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky on land. In any case, we’ll eliminate areas, and get some scuba practice in.” She gestured at Annika with her fork. “That dress isn’t going to work for the sort of hiking we’ll do today.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Looks good on you, but you need pants. Jeans or cargoes to protect your legs. A jacket, a hat, a backpack. And hiking boots.”
“I don’t have those things.”
“I was afraid of that.” Riley looked under the table at Annika’s bare feet. “I’ve got spare boots, but your feet are longer than mine.”
“Looks like a trip into the village to outfit her,” Sawyer said. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“Been on many shopping trips with women, mate?” Bran asked him.
“Shopping.” Annika bounced in her chair. “You buy things. I have coins.”
“No trouble understanding how shopping works,” Bran added. “Coins?”
“I have many coins. I’ll get them.”
When she raced off, Riley turned, jabbed her fork toward Bran. “You’ll eat that insult to my species, Irish. I can get her outfitted inside twenty minutes.”
“Bet you a fiver you can’t.”
“Done. So into the village, deal with that. We can drive south from there for the first ten, twelve kilometers, but we’re off-road after that.”
“I’d like a look at your maps, if it’s all the same to you, before we head out.”
Sawyer nodded at Bran, then Riley. “I’m going to second that.”
“No problem. Nothing to say on this, Sasha?”
“I’m still stuck on Devil’s Breath. Anyway, I can read a map well enough, but I’m pretty sure one cave will strike me the same as any other.”
Annika came back, hauling a royal-blue drawstring bag with g
old braiding. She set it on the table with a little oof, where it thudded heavily.
“My coins.”
“She meant it literally.” On a laugh, Sawyer got up to walk to the end of the table, look into the bag. “Yobanny v rot!”
“What are those words?” Annika demanded.
“It’s Russian.” Riley got up herself to circle around, looked into the bag. “And to borrow a phrase. Yobanny v rot. Mind?” she said to Annika, and without waiting for an answer, tipped the bag onto the table so part of the contents poured out.
Gold coins and silver, copper and bronze. Many, even with her untrained eye, Sasha recognized as old. Possibly ancient.
“We have here a lot of euros,” Riley began, “your pounds, punts, lire, drachma, yen, ducats, francs—Swiss and French—U.S. and Canadian coins, halfpennies, and yo-ho-ho, me hearties, your pieces of eight.”
“Pirate coins?” The notion had Sasha getting up for a closer look. “Like this?”
“Yeah, a reasonable shitload of them, from what I see. They’d be worth about a hundred bucks each.”
“Each.” Sasha turned the oddly shaped coin in her hand.
“Each, if they’re in decent condition and the inscription’s legible, like the one you’re holding. And this?”
Riley did a butt wiggle. “This is a Carlos and Johanna. Gold doubloon, stamped 1521. A collector would pay a grand easy for this.”
She poked through more as Annika stood back smiling in delight.
“Hell of a collection here,” Riley muttered. “And you shouldn’t keep it in a sack like this. Christ, this is a silver tetradrachm, circa 420 BC, probably worth a few thousand easy. And . . . Gamoto. Greek for holy shit.” She held up a gold coin. “Do you have a clue what this is?” she demanded of Annika.
“A coin.”
“See this guy on here, the one wearing the laurel? See this name? This is Augustus Caesar, founder of the Roman Empire. And this cow on the back—it’s a heifer. This coin? It was made somewhere between 27 and 18 B fucking C. It’s worth millions.”
