Timeless

by Teresa Reasor

  “I’m sorry I didn’t speak on the scaffold.” She offered her hand.

  Argus bent at the waist slightly as he shook her hand. They all sat down. “You were very excited.” His dark eyes, almost black, studied her face with an intensity she found disconcerting. His accent sounded similar to his boss’s, yet less refined.

  “Yes, I was. It was adrenaline, I think.”

  “Congratulations on your discovery.”

  “Thank you, sir. I hope the next one comes from a more deliberate effort.”

  He smiled. “It might be a bit less dramatic that way, and certainly less fraught with danger.”

  “Which would suit me.”

  “How do you think things should progress now that the chamber has been discovered?” he asked.

  Regan’s gaze shifted to Dr. Fraser. “I’m sure Dr. Fraser already has a team chosen to study the problem.”

  Fraser raised one brow, his expression wry. “Which shouldn’t prevent you from voicing your opinion, Miss Stanhope.”

  She remained silent a moment, trying to decide whether he was being facetious or serious. When Argus continued to look at her expectantly, she turned her attention to answering his question. “We could send Grannos’ s ROV down first to have a look before disturbing the site any more than my quick dive did. If it looks stable, we can go down using cave diving techniques to keep from kicking up too much silt and take a first-hand look. We could then film the chamber thoroughly and do a survey, and take water and soil samples. Afterwards, Quinn’s team can shore up the roof, if it needs to be, and the water can be pumped out. As much as I’d love to dive right in and see what’s down there, safety has to come first.”

  “That sounds like a good plan, but I am, of course, no expert in such matters,” Argus said.

  “Actually, Mr. Argus, that is very close to the plan we have devised,” Dr. Fraser said. “We intend to start tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” Argus’s dark gaze gleamed with enthusiasm. “Mr. Nicodemus will be very pleased.” He rose to his feet. “I have taken up enough of your time. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Stanhope.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He extended his hand first to Regan, then Dr. Fraser.

  She cleared her throat. “Please tell Mr. Nicodemus how much we appreciate the opportunity to work here, sir. All of us, the students I mean, are thrilled to be here.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass that on, Miss Stanhope,” Argus said with a nod. “Be careful. You are a valuable member of the crew. We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble, sir.”

  Silence followed his departure and Regan eyed Dr. Fraser as anxiety once again cramped her stomach. Her nausea returned full force.

  Fraser motioned toward a seat and she sat down.

  “What were you doing out at the altar, Regan?”

  “I just wanted to see it up close and study the hieroglyphs. It isn’t shaped like most altar stones here or in Ireland, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it could be a burial chamber instead?”

  “We haven’t x-rayed it yet to find out, but anything is possible, I suppose.” He leaned back in his chair and resting his elbows on the arms pressed his palms together in a gesture of contemplation. “No one can fault your enthusiasm or your curiosity, Regan. But two accidents in a matter of weeks, concerns me.”

  Her heart jolted. He was sending her home. She swallowed against the tears that rushed up to choke her. She dropped her gaze to hide the effort to beat them back and retain her composure.

  “Both times you were in places where you had no business being.”

  “Yes, sir.” The words came out sounding husky. If she was going home she had little left to lose. “I didn’t realize that the stones were off limits to diving, sir. Had I known, I wouldn’t have gone down. I’ve never flouted the rules or guidelines of a dig, or of a dive. But accidents happen, even to those who have prepared for every possible problem. Obviously I had prepared, otherwise I’d have run out of air before Mr. Douglas got to me. And as for the chamber, did you, or the survey team, have any idea the chamber was there?”

  “Our geologic survey hasn’t come in yet, since the water has only just been pumped out. And on reviewing the sonar records, no, we weren’t aware there was a chamber there.”

  “I wasn’t damaging the altar stone, sir, just cleaning it. I didn’t realize it was off limits.”

  “Not off limits. We just had no idea anyone would brave the mud to go out to it.” His dark auburn brows drew together in a frown. “Accident or not, Regan, I can’t spend valuable time— babysitting you to make sure you hold your curiosity in check.”

  Anger whipped through her, warming her face and burning away her fear. She clenched her teeth against the impulse to say something she might regret. Though she fought hard to keep her tone level, there was still a bite to it when she said, “I don’t expect you to babysit me. I’m a responsible adult. I’ve never had any complaints about my work on a dig. My notes and drawings are always in order.”

  “Notes and drawings?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been drawing the markings as I uncover them. If that’s not allowed either—Maybe someone should tell us what is and isn’t acceptable, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed at her tone and his cheekbones grew flushed. “I shall see to it right away, then,” he said, his tone just as biting as her own. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his lips compressed. “I’m glad to hear you’re being so meticulous.”

  “I’ve also measured the stone, and Rick Rogers helped triangulate a laser survey to plot where the stone was in relation to the altar, and the cofferdam. The other students have as well.”

  “Very good.”

  “We’re here to learn and to be productive members of the team, Dr. Fraser, not just to do the grunt work.”

  One brow rose, and he focused on her in such a way she wanted very badly to squirm. She relaxed somewhat when he looked away and reached for a folder on his desk. “I understand that you have quite a few cave diving adventures under your belt, Miss Stanhope.”

  “Yes, sir. My father and I used to cave dive together every summer after I got my scuba certification.”

  “Good training for a marine archaeologist.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “You’re rather small for an archaeologist.”

  “Yes. So I’ve been told.” She attempted a smile though her face felt stiff with nerves.

  Fraser set aside the folder and focused on her.

  “I have studied each of the student files, Regan. The letters of recommendation your professors wrote are very complimentary. I’d like to see your drawings and measurements.”

  Hope surged through her. “Whenever you’d like, sir.”

  “Bring them by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be busy supervising the preliminary excavation of the chamber entrance in the morning.”

  She nodded.

  He frowned again, his expression grave. “I don’t expect to hear about any more accidents while you’re on my site. Is that clear?”

  Relief stole the strength from her limbs. “Yes, sir.”

  “Starting tomorrow, Seth Malone, your supervisor, will be keeping a great deal more watch over your activities. I’d appreciate it if you’d pass that on to the other students.”

  Her relief plummeted. Shit! The others were going to give her hell over this. “Yes, sir.”

  “There are still a few hours to get a bit more work done, eh?”

  “Yes, sir.” She got to her feet with more haste than grace and grabbed her pack.

  As she reached for the doorknob he said, “Stick with the stone you’ve been assigned to work on, Regan.”

  There was just enough warning in his tone that a hollow feeling punched her stomach. “Yes, sir.”

  The message was clear.

  They were going to be watching he, just waiting for her to mess up.
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  And be looking for an excuse to send her home. She couldn’t go home. She had more to do—She wondered whether the thought was hers or Coira’s.

  CHAPTER 15

  “God damn it!” The words exploded from him as he slammed the door to the cabin. This was his dig. His. And that damn bitch was taking it over.

  How had she known the chamber was there without a survey? How?

  The Ogham on the stones might have told her—if she could read it. But she had no training in linguistic archaeology. So how was that possible?

  It wasn’t.

  Perhaps the discovery had been an accident. Just luck. And this obsession she had with the altar— If there really was someone buried inside, that too would be another discovery she would gain credit for.

  Rage raced through him, and his face and ears burnt. He drew a deep breath and focused on slowing his heartbeat, his breathing, so he might think more clearly.

  What could he do about her? He could find a way for her to have an accident and be done with her permanently. But thus far, she was driving the dig forward at a faster pace than had been expected. In fact, every time a big find had been discovered, the skull, the chamber, she had been in the midst of it.

  Was it important who got the credit at this point? Wasn’t it more important to discover as much as possible about the stones so he could use them to his advantage?

  His heart rate eased and the pressure feeling inside his ears receded. He had to keep focused on the big picture, not the incidentals.

  He needed to get a look at her drawings and notes, that would give him an insight into what she saw when she looked at the stones. They’d be on her computer, and he could gain access to that with the minimum of trouble.

  This was going to work to his advantage in the end, and when she had outlived her usefulness, he’d get rid of her.

  CHAPTER 16

  Regan locked the door to her room, then hooked the scanner she’d borrowed from the lab to her laptop. It took only a few minutes to install the software. She laid the sheet of drawing paper she’d sketched the markings on face down on the glass surface of the scanner, closed the lid, and clicked the command on the computer screen. Light beamed from beneath the top as the machine did its job.

  She couldn’t afford for anyone to see the translations. Should that happen, they’d ask too many questions—questions she couldn’t hope to answer. It would be safer to save them to a disk and hide the originals.

  A tap sounded on the door. She minimized the image on the screen, closed her drawing pad, and answered the door.

  Hannah stood out in the hall. “I was just checking on you.”

  If only she could talk to Hannah. Perhaps she could help her figure things out. But taking someone she worked with into her confidence could be professional suicide.

  Regan took a step back. “Come on in.” She motioned toward the scanner as she closed the door behind her. “I’m making a disk of my drawings and notes for Dr. Fraser.”

  Hannah’s brows rose. “So he requested your notes. This could be an opportunity for you, Regan.”

  Regan shook her head. “I don’t think that was the point.” She drew a deep breath and took a seat before the computer.

  Hannah pushed her glasses up her nose, with a grimace of sympathy. She tucked a strand of sun-streaked, light brown hair behind her ear.

  Regan gripped the side of the chair. “The gist of our conversation was that if I caused any more trouble, I’d be shipped home. And in the meantime they’ll be looking for an excuse to do just that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The sincerity she heard in Hannah’s voice eased some of the tension from her shoulders.

  Hannah sat on the foot of the bed. Her hands rested on her knees and her fingers squeezed and released in a nervous gesture. “I’ve been troubled a bit by something. Henry rides you about being impulsive and driven, but I’ve seen your work and thus far you’ve been exact and careful. A stray word or two can guide peoples’ perceptions. If Dr. Fraser’s already looking about for an excuse, and Henry’s fanning the fire—”

  Regan nodded. “I appreciate your looking out for me Hannah. I’ve been hoping to avoid a falling out with Henry. But if he continues making remarks, I may have to say something to him.”

  Hannah leaned forward, her features strained. “There’s something I want to tell you, too.”

  Regan’s anxiety spiked.

  “The other night when you had the dream and grabbed my ankle, I saw something—”

  Regan raised her brows, when she hesitated.

  “The blister you have on your wrist just appeared there right before me.” Her voice sounded stressed with exasperation and a touch of fear. “I noticed the bandage on your wrist the next morning and started to say something, but was afraid I’d sound daft.” She shook her head as though she were trying to dislodge an idea. “It scared the shite out of me.”

  Regan touched the gauze strip covering the injury. She shivered as a chill passed through her bringing goose bumps to her skin.

  Hannah continued. “I’ve worried at it all day. I thought I was seeing things, but the burn is there and you didn’t have it before you fell asleep in front of the telly.”

  “No, I didn’t.” The knot of tension in her stomach grew taut. What could she tell her? Certainly not the truth. “It was the popcorn. I must have touched a kernel. I’m highly allergic.”

  Hannah’s body relaxed and relief flooded her expression. “I knew there had to be a logical explanation.” A smile replaced the fear tightening her features.

  “What did you think had caused it?” Regan asked.

  “There are times when you have an uncanny ability to see things the rest of us don’t.” She studied Regan’s face for a moment. “Did you know the opening was there today when you went out to the altar stone?”

  After the first lie the second came more easily. Regan drew a deep breath. “No, it was a lucky accident. I’m not psychic or anything.” At least she hadn’t been until coming to Scotland. Or had she? She sensed things about people, but had always believed it was just picking up on their body language. Had it been something else?

  Hannah’s continued appraisal made her uncomfortable and she looked away. Damn. The woman was just too astute and had gotten too close to her. Fear had her hands shaking as she brushed at the feathered curls that lay against her forehead. She fought back the feeling of panic.

  She had so few friends and she and Hannah had grown to like one another. But if she told her everything—it was too much. Way too much.

  “I know how this looks, but I can’t draw any more attention to myself. If Dr. Fraser gets the idea I’m some kind of nut case, he’ll send me home.”

  “What was it you dreamed about, Regan?”

  Her throat grew tight around the knot that lodged there. She studied Hannah’s expression for several moments. Could she trust her? As long as all she had was speculation—

  “I dreamed about the stones.”

  “You’ll tell me if you suddenly have any strange dreams or feelings about me, won’t you?”

  Regan’s brows rose in surprise.

  Hannah smiled. “This is Scotland, lass. We’ve believed in fey folk and fairies for hundreds of years. Science may have tried to drum it out of us, but it’s still there.”

  Regan drew a deep breath, torn between the need to maintain caution and the need to confide. “If ever—I’ll be sure to tell you.”

  Hannah rested her hand on her arm for a moment.

  Regan motioned to the scanner. “I have to prepare this disk for Dr. Fraser. I didn’t want to give him my notebook. I’m trying to keep all my drawings and notes together.”

  “That’s probably wise,” Hannah said. “I’ll take myself off so you can get it done, then.”

  Regan waited until she closed the door behind her before releasing her breath. Her hands shook as she turned back to the computer.

  Someone else had seen what happened. It
was real. She wasn’t going insane. The tight spiraling fear released inside her. She wasn’t insane. Tears blurred her vision and she drew another, easier breath.

  The other girls had, a time or two, used her computer to check their email and write up their notes. It wouldn’t do for any of them to discover the images or her translations. Murmuring to herself about paranoia running amuck, she burnt a CD of the images, saved a copy to her flash drive, then deleted them from the hard drive. She stuffed everything in her pack.

  A tap on the door had her looking up.

  Hannah cracked the door open. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Regan’s brows rose in inquiry.

  “Quinn.”

  Regan’s brows rose in surprise. After their discussion today she thought she’d seen the last of him.

  Hannah eyed her algae stained shirt and jeans. “Shall I tell him you’ll be with him in a few minutes?”

  A smile tilted Regan’s lips as the aching disappointment she had felt that afternoon returned. Let him wait. “Thanks, Hannah. Tell him I’m in the shower and I’ll be with him directly.”

  Hannah closed the door. What if he was here to help her? Hope surged through her and she rushed to the closet to grab a fresh pair of slacks and a sweater. Pausing to jerk plain cotton underwear and a bra from a drawer, she ran for the bathroom.

  After her shower, she crossed the hall to her bedroom, and heard Hannah and Quinn’s voices coming from the living room. She slipped on her shoes, finger combed her hair, still damp from her shower, and touched her mouth with a pale pink lipstick. She was a little out of breath when she entered the living room.

  Quinn sat in a dull brown chair, his hands resting on the arms. Despite the frown knitting his brows, he looked darkly handsome in jeans and a black turtleneck. A heart-racing bolt of nervous excitement raced through her. Why was he here? And why did she feel this attraction when he had let her down so badly?

  Across from him on the couch sat her three roommates, their attention latched onto him as though he were a new species that had just crawled out of the loch. Regan smiled, then bit her lip as she struggled to suppress a laugh. He deserved to be tortured a bit. Her voice sounded husky as she said his name. He looked up and relief flickered across his features.