Beneath the Surface

by M. J. Fredrick

  She heard the censure in his voice and defensiveness rose. Did he want her to continue pining after Adrian, who couldn’t give her what she needed?

  Dr. Vigil must have seen the pain in her face because he shifted subjects. “You look wonderful. Doesn’t she look wonderful, Adrian?”

  Adrian shoved the jerky into his pocket. “She’s too skinny.”

  She scowled, rising. “It’s the stress of planning a wedding. This time I want to do it right.”

  Their own wedding had been an outdoor affair in Greece, and they’d dressed in their dig clothes. Their only concessions to convention were the rings and the flowers in her hair. At the time, the ceremony had seemed the height of romance. They’d been young and wild about each other, certain nothing or no one would ever come between them. She imagined most young couples felt that way, but she and Adrian—she’d been so sure. She glanced at his left hand. Of course he’d stopped wearing his ring.

  She folded her left hand into a fist. Now she wore someone else’s.

  “You might have considered planning it after you were divorced.” He’d stopped his laconic lounging and stood straight, tension in the lines of his body.

  She stepped closer. “You might have signed the papers before you left civilization. You’ve had them for months.”

  They were nose to nose in the small space, his scent washing over her, filling her with a memory of gliding hands and hot skin, while his flashing eyes filled her with another, aching recollection. So many fights, just like this one. This wasn’t what love was supposed to be. She drew back, relieved she and Jonathan never fought, never lashed out at each other. Never hurt each other.

  Adrian glared a moment longer before he spun and left the tent.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Vigil,” Mallory murmured, embarrassed that he’d witnessed such a spectacle, that she hadn’t grown up where Adrian was concerned. In that moment, she’d forgotten the old man was there.

  Dr. Vigil waved a hand, dismissing it as if it didn’t bother him. His eyes crinkled as he looked after Adrian. “It feels like old times.”

  She glanced toward the opening. “Is he still chasing after the Theophilius boxes?”

  Dr. Vigil’s gaze sharpened. “He hasn’t told you?”

  She shook her head.

  “He thinks he’s found one.”

  Chapter Two

  Impossible, but it certainly explained why Adrian had left the States without signing the divorce papers. He’d been too eager to get back on the job. Since the dig in Tunisia, this legend had a hold on him. “What on earth makes him think that? On the other side of the world? How can he still be obsessed with this after three years?”

  Dr. Vigil folded his hands over his stomach, eyes twinkling. “My dear, if anyone should know about obsession, you would.”

  She inclined her head in acknowledgement. Her father had been obsessed with pre-Columbian history in the Andes. She’d spent most of her life in camps in the mountains of Peru and Ecuador. Learning Spanish and English at the same time, then learning how to interpret glyphs led to her proclivity for symbology.

  And life in tents had led to her longing for a home of her own.

  Then she’d married Adrian and pushed aside that longing because she loved him.

  “What makes him think he’s found one?”

  “Perhaps you should ask him that.”

  “I don’t think he’d tell me.”

  “You underestimate his feelings for you. You’ll probably find him out by the dunes.”

  Mallory folded her arms under her breasts and watched Adrian’s silhouette as he sat on the beach in the moonlight, looking out over the ocean, arms looped around his raised knees. Curiosity brought her to the water, a curiosity she’d tried to bury along with her feelings for this man.

  That thought had her taking a step toward camp, but he turned and saw her. Now she couldn’t retreat without looking foolish.

  And she did want to know the story.

  She headed down over the dunes and onto the beach, wishing she’d removed her boots so she could feel the sand between her toes. The last time she’d been to the ocean was in Pensacola, before she moved. She’d forgotten how soothing the waves could be. Even Adrian’s expectant gaze didn’t make her as anxious as it might have.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked when she got closer.

  She looked at his boat bobbing at the end of a long portable dock and squinted to make out the name. The Mysterious Miss M. Who was Miss M? Probably the Constantinople witch he’d become obsessed with three years ago. “I want to know what you’re looking for.”

  “So you can go tell Valentine?”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have a clue how to find him.”

  “Really. He wasn’t too far from your side last time I saw him.” He reached into his breast pocket for his beef jerky.

  “I haven’t seen him in months.” She lowered herself a careful distance from him. “What’s out there, Adrian?”

  He kept his attention on the surf. “Robert already told you.”

  “He said you found a second casket. How can that be, all the way over here?”

  “Don’t know for sure. We haven’t gotten that deep.”

  She pushed her windblown hair out of her face. “Then what makes you think you’ve found another?”

  He braced his arms behind him. “Do you know the legend?”

  As if she’d had a choice. Adrian had immersed himself in the legend after he’d discovered the casket. The research left a lot of holes, however, including details of the symbols.

  “You told me about the witch Mavaris who lived in Constantinople nine hundred years ago, that people believed she could control the weather and the sea after her lover was killed at sea. I remember something about necromancy too. Have you learned more?”

  “Not really. The legend’s pretty obscure.” He sat forward, dragging one hand over his hair. “When she couldn’t raise her lover, she turned to the elements. Apparently she thought she was getting revenge on the gods of the sea or something, taking their power from them. This priest Theophilius had occult leanings, I guess. I don’t know how he figured someone was controlling the weather, how he figured it was her, but he managed to kill her, and then he cut her apart and burned her.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Yeah, well, she was a witch and it was nine hundred years ago. So he took her ashes and sealed them in ivory caskets. And he sent the four boxes on four ships out of Constantinople.”

  “And you found one in Tunisia. How could the other one be here?”

  He turned to her, the first time since she’d joined him. “So you really haven’t been in touch with Smoller.”

  She blinked. “I told you I haven’t.”

  “He found another ship off the coast of Florida. He has three of the caskets already.”

  “Three?” Surprise kicked up her pulse. “How?”

  “The other casket had been found over a hundred years ago off the coast of Africa. Smoller tracked it down and bought it.” He shifted toward her, his eyes glinting with that passion she remembered so well. “He knew what we were going to find in Tunisia before we found it. He went there for that casket.”

  “How did he know where to find it? How did you find this one? More importantly, how do you know this is the fourth ship?”

  His teeth flashed in a brief grin. “I don’t. But all evidence points to the fact that it’s a Mediterranean ship in the Caribbean, and it appears to be the correct age.”

  “You said the caskets were cursed, that whoever discovered them faced the consequences.”

  He chuckled. “And who better to know than me? Didn’t I lose everything after bringing up that damned thing?”

  And yet he was searching for another. Perhaps one cursed object would invalidate another, if one believed those things.

  He rolled onto his hip and popped to his feet. He gave the ocean one last glance before he reached a hand to h
er. “I’m heading back. You coming?”

  She thought about taking his hand, sliding her hand along those calluses. No, he didn’t trust her with his secrets and she didn’t trust him with her emotions. “I think I’ll stay out here awhile.”

  Another look at the ocean, then at her. “You’ll be okay?”

  “You never worried about me before. I’m not that different, Adrian.”

  The inclination of his head told her he thought otherwise.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Mal.”

  Adrian pushed open the flap of the tent his brother and Jacob, the fifth member of their crew, shared. The two younger men each sat on a cot, a poker game in full swing, dollar bills in piles on the little folding table between them.

  “Too late to get in now,” Toney said, his attention on his cards.

  “Yeah, don’t let Robert see you,” Adrian warned. “He’ll clean you out.”

  “Why do you think we’re playing in here?” Toney tossed a card in, accepted another from Jacob. “He looks like a nice old man, but he’s a shark when it comes to gambling,” he told the student.

  “And he’ll play until he wipes you out or until he’s wiped out.” Adrian sat on the edge of his brother’s cot. “Can you drive Mallory to the city tomorrow?”

  Toney lowered his hand and sat back on the cot. “Jesus, Adrian, can’t someone else go?”

  “Who? I don’t want Robert on the road, Linda gets lost the minute she leaves camp and Jacob here can’t drive stick.” He rolled his eyes at his student. “Or I could take her.”

  Toney’s lips thinned. “Christ, she doesn’t know when to stop causing trouble, does she? Right, fine, I’ll take her.”

  Adrian hesitated. Not exactly the answer he wanted, though he didn’t want to stop everything to take her himself. Okay, he did, but he couldn’t. Even if he missed her. For ten years, he’d had her to talk to on digs, to bounce ideas off of and God, he missed that.

  What he wanted was for her to stay, to be curious about the dive, to want to be with him.

  “You need to be nice to her,” he said to his brother.

  “Like she was nice to you?”

  “Toney,” he warned.

  “No!” Toney shoved the table aside and pushed to his feet. “She comes here like nothing ever happened. She’s all high and mighty, waving her ring in your face like you were nothing to her and you just smile and take it. Where she’s concerned, you have no balls.”

  Adrian cut a glance to Jacob, who was concentrating really hard on his cards. Scowling, Adrian blew out a breath and took a step back to look outside the tent and see if anyone had heard. No one was around.

  “She was my wife for eight years.”

  “And she walked away.” Toney swung on Jacob. “Do you know what she did?”

  Jacob shook his head, curls bouncing.

  “First of all, she wasn’t on the dive that day, okay, she said she had food poisoning. Still seems weird to me. So she wasn’t on the ship when we surfaced with the box. When he told her about the box, about the symbols on it, symbols she should have known and understood, she didn’t believe him. When Adrian was accused of stealing it and put in prison by his so-called partner, she was hanging out with the enemy. You tell me that’s what a wife does.”

  “You’re blowing it out of proportion.” Adrian struggled to keep his voice calm as those memories, the ones he’d worked so hard to bury, stabbed through him again. Truthfully, Toney wasn’t exaggerating much, not from his own perspective. He hadn’t been privy to the more personal, painful episodes.

  Mallory had claimed she and Valentine had been working together to get him out of the Tunisian jail. But the pitying look in Mal’s eyes, the smug look in Smoller’s, on top of the fact that Mallory didn’t believe he’d found a casket that was now missing, had been the worst betrayal, the straw collapsing their already strained marriage.

  “You know I’m not. Why are you bending over so she can screw you again?”

  Adrian squared his shoulders, dragging in every ounce of self-control, which was in short supply these days. “She’ll be leaving tomorrow. You’ll take her and you won’t give her a bad time, right?”

  Toney dragged a hand through his too-long hair and eased away. “Yeah, all right. I won’t give her a bad time. As long as she’s getting out of here. But I won’t go out of my way to be nice.”

  Mallory rolled onto her side in the empty tent, unable to sleep, despite the sound of the rolling ocean, the scent of it. The light from the dying campfire flickered through the nylon wall, at once familiar and spooky.

  She looked toward the duffel bag with the divorce papers. Now Adrian had what he wanted, and so did she. She hoped they both lived happily ever after.

  Still, how could she leave without seeing the ship? It was only dozens of feet away—okay, straight down, but not out of reach. Beneath the surface, she could touch the past, could touch history.

  After she married Jonathan, she’d probably never dive again.

  She had to see this ship. It would be asking a lot of Adrian, but he knew her better than anyone. He’d know why she was asking.

  She reached for her watch, peered at it before realizing she hadn’t changed the time. Nearly half an hour had passed since Linda had left the tent they shared. In Mallory’s camping experiences, it meant it must be nearly dawn. Adrian liked his camp up and running early.

  Working up the nerve to ask him to take her out on the boat, she pushed out of the tent to see the sun breaking against the purpled Maya Mountains above the camp, though the camp itself was still in dawn grayness. She savored the sight, the newness of the day, the peace of being alone.

  Until Adrian emerged from a tent across the camp, shirtless. Mallory wanted to whimper at the perfection of his shoulders and arms, the strength of his chest, that scattering of dark auburn hair there that she’d rubbed her cheek against so many nights.

  Since he was looking toward the mountain, he didn’t see her. He dragged a hand over his head and tugged on a dark sweatshirt against the cool air.

  Movement from inside the tent drew her attention. A tent mate? His brother, maybe. The only person he’d ever shared a tent with before was her.

  The question died before it could be completely formed as Linda straightened, tossing her dark hair back. She smiled at Adrian, brushed her hands over his shoulders and walked away in the direction of the mess tent.

  Mallory staggered under the unexpected pain of jealousy, willing herself to breathe, falling back into the shadows before Adrian saw her, saw the devastation he’d caused.

  A calming breath focused her. She was marrying someone else in a little more than a month. Her jealousy toward Linda, or anyone else who wanted Adrian, was unreasonable. He was a free man now. She had no hold over him.

  But she couldn’t say he no longer had a hold over her.

  “Still want to leave today?” Adrian walked up behind Mallory as she ate her oatmeal on the same bench where she’d had her chili last night. “Toney will take you when you’re ready, and he’s in a particularly cheerful mood.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “Unless you want to look at the ship.”

  Startled, she nearly launched her bowl through the air. When her heart returned to her chest, she set the bowl aside. He was offering her what she’d wanted—at least what she’d wanted until she’d seen Linda come out of his tent. That should have brought up the barrier she needed to be around him. Why it didn’t worried her.

  “Why would I?”

  He dropped to the bench beside her. Too close, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of moving away. “You’ll never get another chance like this.”

  He spoke the words that had played through her mind all night. Scary how well he knew her. “I’m not an archaeologist anymore.” Maybe if she said it often enough, she could squash the desire to stay.

  He regarded her strangely, as if she’d declared she was no longer a woman. “Once a digger…”
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  She shook her head. It hadn’t taken much to get her to turn from the life she’d always known.

  Not much. Just Adrian.

  “Not me.”

  He arched a brow. “You still have your clothes.”

  That threw her off balance for a second. When she’d pulled them out of the closet, Jonathan had the same reaction. She hadn’t let herself think about why she’d kept them when she’d given up every other aspect of her life with Adrian.

  He drew away, linking his fingers in front of him. “The woman I used to know would be chomping at the regulator to get down there.”

  She wanted to see the ship so bad she twitched. “I need to get home.”

  He reached into the front pocket of his cotton shirt, dragged out more beef jerky. He didn’t look at her as he said, “Going out won’t take long.”

  All the yearnings she’d fought the past few years as she’d adjusted to the corporate world reared up, prodding her to take the plunge. For heaven’s sake, they’d discovered what might be a Mediterranean ship, thousands of miles from where it should be. She couldn’t just walk away.

  She eased back, as if her surrender wouldn’t mean as much if she acted casual. “I haven’t dived since Mexico. And if I dive, I won’t be able to fly for twenty-four hours.”

  A light of triumph glinted in his eyes. Damn. He knew her too well.

  “That’s okay. You can see it without diving. You got here just in time to try out my new toy.” He reached out and waited. Her engagement ring weighed heavy on her finger as she considered the consequences of touching him. Hesitantly, she slid her hand into his.

  The shock of his strong, warm hand beneath hers, the current that ran from his skin into hers, made her want to pull away. Sensing it, he tightened his grip and smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. He stopped when he reached her ring. Instead of dropping her hand as she expected, he lifted it for closer inspection. Her heart squeezing, she wanted to cover the ring. This was too hard.