Timeless

by Teresa Reasor

  In response to the searing pleasure he evoked, Regan pushed downward and rolled her hips. How could they be without this, without each other? Emotion gripped her throat, and she shoved it aside. They’d have to love a lifetime in the time they had left.

  She wanted to cradle him inside her body as long as she could. Feel his skin against hers. Look into his green gaze and see his love for her unguarded. And for these moments, as their bodies captured an intense rhythm of giving and taking, she immersed herself in the touch and taste and feel of Quinn’s love.

  His hands roamed restless and warm over her breasts, then followed the curve of her ribs to her back. He held her as though he couldn’t get close enough. His fingertips followed the length of her spine. He cupped her buttocks and guided her into a slower, deeper exploration of how his hips could rise and meet hers with only the minute brush and drag of their skin between each thrust.

  The sweet, intent pleasure of it built and built until every nerve ending ached. Her muscles tightened with her need. The first throbbing hint of his release cast her up and into her own. Prickles of concentrated pleasure raced over and through her, skittering like electricity to the tips of her fingers and toes.

  For countless moments, she lay spent and breathless, her head resting on his chest. She rolled to his side, her legs stiff from being too long in the same position. He gathered her to him and kissed her, the contact soft and gentle.

  “Sleep a while, love. I’ve set the clock for three-thirty,” he said, his voice a gravely whisper.

  Regan nodded, her eyes already heavy.

  She woke what seemed like moments later as Quinn slipped out of bed. She sat up and threw aside the covers when he flipped on a small bedside lamp.

  “You don’t have to come up on deck.” Quinn said. He removed a pair of thermal underwear from a carryon bag.

  The dim light illuminated the muscular shape of his thighs, his broad back, the slope of his shoulders and the tight curvature of his buttocks. Despite his physical strength, he had never seemed more vulnerable.

  “Yes, I do. I wish you’d let me help you.” Her heart raced, and her stomach cramped with nerves. Her hands shook as she jerked on her jeans. “I know how to set a C-4 charge.”

  Quinn pulled on the underwear pants. “I can work more quickly if you’re not with me. I’ll get this done in a few minutes.”

  She brushed her fingers across her face, and turned aside to grasp her t-shirt and hide the tears that blurred her vision. “How long, so I’ll know when to expect you to surface?” Why was she crying all the time? She’d gone years without shedding a single tear.

  “Thirty minutes. It’s at a depth of forty feet. I’ll have double the air I need. I’ll be fine.” He tugged on his thermal shirt and strode around the bunk to where she stood.

  She turned to face him, her composure held in place by will alone. “I’ll be up there waiting for you to surface.”

  He drew her close, bent his head, and kissed her. He cupped her chin to tilt her face upward. His steady green gaze held reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I love you.”

  Every time he said it she wanted to both weep and exclaim, “Thank you, God.” It was such a gift.

  He kissed her again slowly, thoroughly, taking her breath and her heart at the same time.

  The yellow emergency lights left on at night cast greenish shadows as she followed him down the narrow corridor from the cabin, through the galley, and out onto the deck. Quinn turned left and strode down the port side of the ship to the equipment storage room.

  He stepped over the raised lip of the hatch and into the chamber. The smell of oil and a metallic odor hung in the air. He waited for her to enter the compartment before easing the hatch closed and turning on the light. A frown of concentration settled between his brows as he donned his dry suit and buoyancy compensator. He checked his regulator, pressure gage, and dive computer. Regan rushed to help him as he shouldered the heavy double eighty tanks onto his back. She fastened the belt around his waist because the desire, the need, to touch him rose too strong to fight.

  Quinn offered her a smile then collected an equipment bag, his weight belt and flippers. She grabbed a dive-light. He extinguished the overhead bulb before opening the hatch. They paused a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the change. A dull glow from the security lights at the dig site entered the chamber and lit their way. She followed him to the starboard side of the ship, the farthest away from the dig and the darkest. He slid the metal stairs into place.

  “Thirty minutes,” he said again.

  His movements were so deep in shadow she only sensed what he was doing as he drew the hood of his dry suit up over his hair and snapped his weight belt in place. He tested his regulator one more time and secured the equipment bag to his belt.

  “Thirty minutes,” she repeated her voice shaking. She handed him the dive-light. “What about the charges?”

  “They’re secured to the cofferdam in a mesh bag.” He snapped the light to his belt. “All I have to do is place them, complete the circuits with DET cord and secure the timer.” He donned his flippers and full-face mask.

  “I’ll surface on the dive platform,” he said, then fitted his regulator into his mouth.

  “Be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

  He nodded and climbed down the metal stairs backward with a clumsy grace that came with practice.

  Regan leaned over the side of the ship and watched as he reached the end of the metal ladder, eased himself down over the end, and hung for a moment. He released the step and hit the water with barely a splash.

  Regan drew a deep, shaky breath of the cold air and released it. Her muscles ached with a fearful tension she couldn’t control. Tears blurred her eyes once more, and she closed them. She had to stay calm for Quinn’s sake. He was the one taking all the risks.

  She settled on one of the benches just outside the galley. She’d donned Quinn’s sweater before leaving the cabin, and now drew the hem up against her cheek to breathe in his scent. Despite the dank smell of rich mud and water that lingered over the loch, she smelled peat smoke, soap, and him. Dear God how she loved him. If they somehow found a way out of this, she’d never leave him. No matter what sacrifices she had to make.

  The minutes ticked by as though each one were bogged in oil-laced mud. The chilled air permeated the sweater. Her breathing came in shaky, shallow gulps, drying her mouth and throat. When the sensation threatened to choke her, she rose and went into the galley. She turned on the light over the stove and went to the large refrigerator. She retrieved a bottle of water, twisted the lid free and tipping her head back, drank deeply. She nudged the refrigerator door closed.

  “Couldn’t sleep either, eh?” Rob said from the doorway.

  CHAPTER 46

  An electric frission of shock shot through Regan. Her mouth half full of water, she sucked in a gasp and choked. The water bottle dropped from her hand and hit bottom first on the gray industrial tiled floor with a loud thump. Water shot out the opening splattering the cabinets and Rob’s pajama clad legs.

  She coughed hard trying to clear her breathing passages. Rob stepped over the growing puddle and pounded her back none too gently, leaving a burning sensation between her shoulder blades.

  She glared at him. “Jesus Christ. You scared the living shit out of me.” Why hadn’t they seen the Bayliner tied up when they’d gone to the equipment room? How long had he been on board? Had he heard them talking? Had he heard Quinn leaving the ship?

  “Sorry.” He grabbed a dishtowel from a drawer and dried his feet and the floor.

  He didn’t sound sorry at all.

  “When did you get back to Grannos?” Regan asked as she retrieved the empty water bottle and threw it in the trashcan. “We thought we were alone on board.”

  He tossed the towel onto the counter. “I guess it’s a good thing you got dressed before wandering around the ship, then. It might have been a wee bit embarrassing to catch my brother’s girlfrien
d in the altogether.”

  “You wish,” she shot back, sudden anger taking the place of the jittery fear. She shifted her shoulders to ease the uncomfortable ache between them where he had thumped her.

  Rob’s brows rose, and he laughed. He flipped on the overhead lights and shuffled past to open the refrigerator. Bent at the waist, his flannel sleep pants low on his hips, he eyed the contents of the refrigerator. “I had one of the team swing me over on their way to their cabin about one. You and Quinn must have been asleep.”

  How was she to get rid of him before Quinn surfaced? How could she warn Quinn Rob was on board? Her gaze crept to her watch. Twenty minutes.

  She dragged air into her lungs and coughed again. “If you’re hungry, there’s some left over steak already cooked.” She moved to the open entrance to the galley and switched on the interior lights. Surely Quinn would see the room lit up and avoid it. “There’s enough to make a sandwich.”

  “Would you be joinin’ me?”

  “No, thanks. I ate enough at supper.” Should she go back out on deck to wait, or would he follow her out there? Better to keep him in sight so she could distract him. She returned to the galley.

  “Neither of you must have been hungry. There’s over half the steak left here,” he commented, as he stacked ingredients on the counter.

  Regan made no comment.

  Rob opened the cabinet and removed a plate. He cut two pieces of steak into bread-sized pieces, placed them on the plate and popped them into the microwave.

  “We’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks. Will you really be leaving with us?” He keyed in the cooking time and the interior light came on.

  Her stomach muscles tightened. If she were by some miracle free to go, she’d be with him. “Yes, I’ll be leaving with Quinn.”

  “Just like that? Don’t you have a few more weeks on your contract?”

  The scent of reheating beef waft to her. “Yes. But if he wants me with him, that’s where I’ll be.”

  Rob frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “What about the two detectives hanging about the dig?”

  “What about them?” She leaned against the bulkhead just within the galley.

  “They’ve been asking about you and Quinn.”

  “We didn’t do anything to Dr. Reinhart.” Regan hated the defensive tone that crept into her voice. “They can’t continue to think Quinn and I were involved in all these different tragedies. They have someone else’s DNA, why aren’t they trying to find that person instead of homing in on us?”

  The microwave dinged and Rob opened the door. “I don’t know. They’ve fixated on the two of you. They asked why Quinn sent us to the hospital to watch out for Will the night of the accident.” He stacked steak and cheese on slices of bread, building a sandwich.

  Regan glanced down and surreptitiously looked at her watch. Twenty-five minutes. Rob wasn’t going to go back to bed until he’d finished his sandwiches. If he sat at one of the tables, he’d have a straight view of the aft deck. Anxiety leached the heat from her hands and feet. She shivered. “I’m going to close the hatch. It must be growing colder.”

  “’Tis going to storm later today. Perhaps this evening,” Rob commented.

  Regan dragged the heavy door into place and shoved it closed.

  “I’m surprised Quinn isn’t up. He’s usually a light sleeper,” Rob said, as he stepped into the space between the bench and the table. He placed his plate before him and twisted the lid off the water bottle he carried in the other hand.

  “He was exhausted last night from the search for Marissa. We’ve neither been sleeping well.” Regan concentrated on slowing her breathing and wandered to the table and sat down.

  “Quinn’s woken me calling out in his sleep with dreams since we first arrived. I won’t be sorry to leave this place.”

  “Neither will I.”

  Rob’s green gaze grew sharp. “You’ve gained Nicodemus’s attention, why would you just give it up?”

  “Because I love Quinn and want to be with him. And because Nicodemus doesn’t show an interest in anyone without extracting a price. He uses people up, then casts them aside. I‘ve done enough research to know that. No matter how much it brought me—it wouldn’t be worth it.” Her thoughts dwelt on Marissa for a moment. She’d paid the ultimate price for nothing.

  She looked down at her clenched hands and spied her watch. Her lungs seized, and her heart beat like a metronome in her wrists and throat. Forty minutes. Was Quinn late? How would she know if or when he’d surfaced? What if he’d run into trouble? Her gaze drifted to the hatch. Please go to bed, Rob. Please!

  He shoved away the plate and rose. She bit back a sigh of relief.

  “Are you going to tell Quinn about your mother?” Rob asked.

  Her gaze leapt to his face. “What?”

  “There’s a rumor going about the dig she was institutionalized for mental illness.”

  Her muscles drained of strength, and her heart dropped into her stomach. Everyone knew? She swallowed though her mouth had gone dry. “I suppose you’ve already told him, haven’t you?”

  His gaze shifted away. Regan threaded her fingers through her bangs and brushed them away from her face. Why hadn’t Quinn said something?

  “When did you tell him?”

  “Yesterday.”

  And he’d still said he loved her, had never wavered. She rose from her seat and stepped over the bench.

  “If you loved him, as you say you do, you wouldn’t keep secrets from him.”

  “I’m sure love and concern motivated you to tell him,” she said, an edge in her voice as sharp as glass. “I’m not trying to take your brother away from you. I just want to love him, too.” She had to go on deck. Quinn had to be back by now. And if he wasn’t, she was going in after him.

  Rob caught her wrist, his expression intent. Deep scratches crusty with scabs marred his forearm. She stared at them transfixed. Why hadn’t she noticed them before? Had he come out of the saturation pod in time to go to Edinburgh and follow them? Surely not.

  She jerked free of Rob’s grip. Rage boiled up inside her and she suppressed the need to lash out at him. “Go to hell.” She forced herself to walk away.

  She had to know if Quinn had surfaced. He was all that mattered.

  She shoved open the hatch, stepped out, and pushed it closed behind her. All the anxious fear she’d controlled since Quinn had submerged rushed up, and she ran aft to look down at the platform. Nothing. Dear God, was he in trouble? The wind whipped across the deck shoving against her. She gripped the cold metal railing and followed it to the starboard side of the ship. If he’d surfaced while they were talking, he’d have shed his gear there.

  The hatch was closed. Had he closed it behind them? She couldn’t remember. She tugged the heavy door open. Darkness stared back at her. She bit back a sob. There were tanks, gear, all she had to do was get it on and go over the side. She’d find him.

  She stepped over the lip and dragged the door closed.

  “Turn the light on, lass.”

  A sound half scream, half sob escaped her. Her grip on the wheel shaped mechanism of the hatch was the only thing that kept her from falling. Her hand brushed the switch and the light came on.

  Quinn caught her to him despite the wet dry-suit he still wore. Regan clung to him, her body trembling so she couldn’t speak. “It’s all right, love,” he soothed. His arms tightened about her.

  “I was scared for you. And I had to distract him,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

  “When I saw the galley hatch closed and the lights on, I knew something had happened. When did Rob show up?”

  “He said some of the men dropped him here about one. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but keep him talking.” She placed her hands against his chest the material of the dry-suit rough against her palm. She searched his face. “Are you okay?”

  Quinn nodded though he looked exhausted. “It’s done.” He drew away to unzi
p the dry-suit and peel it down. He hung it on a hook with the others to dry.

  At the pain, the conflict she read in his face, tears gripped her throat. “I’m sorry it had to be you to do this.”

  He turned aside to put on his shoes. “Right now, we need to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day,” he said.

  The plan was set. She had to be at her best, her strongest tomorrow. They both did.

  He offered her a hand. She gripped it as he turned off the light and swung the hatch open. He sent her on ahead incase Rob were still in the galley. The lights remained on, but he was gone. She motioned Quinn forward.

  The corridor to Quinn’s cabin seemed a hundred miles long now that the adrenaline had seeped from her system, leaving her bone weary.

  Quinn shucked the thermal shirt and climbed beneath the covers on the bed. He folded his hands behind his head and followed her every move as she removed her jeans and his sweater. With his attention focused on her, her skin became hypersensitive and heat touched her cheeks. She climbed beneath the covers next to him in her t-shirt and panties. He turned on his side, and drawing her into his body, spooned her.

  “’Twill all be over tomorrow,” Quinn said.

  Regan nodded. She drew his hand up and tucked it beneath her cheek. With his arms cocooning her, she felt safe and warm. But the knot of doubt and dread twisting in her stomach never eased.

  When had Rob gotten out of the saturation pot? And how had he received those scratches?

  CHAPTER 47

  Regan studied the edge of the stone as it disappeared into the muck. How deep was it buried into the ground? And what was beneath it? And where could they attach the electrical wiring Quinn was rigging to charge it?

  They’d studied her drawings and photographs of the monoliths extensively. Quinn’s suggestion of burying rods into the ground as deep as they could and as close to the stones as possible had to be the solution.

  She glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. She had one hour before meeting with Nicodemus. Her gaze trailed around the chamber observing the other students. Hannah and Sheary knelt at the base of a wall painstakingly removing the mud from a collection of hand-dipped candles buried there. Helen was rinsing the ionized soap mixture from a rock wall. Rick and Stephen were topside cleaning the same stones she stood before from above the chamber. The betrayal her friends would feel, when the site was destroyed would be — She couldn’t go there. It would only make things harder.