Timeless

by Teresa Reasor

  “I saw Coira today in the chamber, while we were trapped there.”

  Quinn drew back to look down at her.

  “It was just a glimpse of her peering out at us from the back room. But she was there.”

  “It always comes back to her, doesn’t it?” His jaw worked. “I’ve been thinking—if we discover what all this is about, how will it affect us? Will it free us or will it tear us apart?”

  Regan swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Coira promised Braden she wouldn’t allow the stones to tear them apart. What if that’s the whole point? Or at least one of them.”

  “You mean she’s set this whole thing up so she can get back to Braden?”

  “And if she did, what will it mean to us?”

  Quinn’s eyes moved over her face. He cupped her face and his thumb rubbed lightly over her cheekbone. Her heartbeat rose at the emotion she read in his face.

  “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” he said. He lowered his mouth to hers.

  Fear coursed through her, and Regan clung to him, turning aside the comfort of his kiss for more. She raised her chin to allow him access to her throat as his hand cupped her breast. “Promise me something,” she said her voice hoarsened by the knot of emotion in her throat. “Promise me you won’t forget what we have right at this moment.”

  Quinn drew back. His gaze traced over her face, fierce and intent. “I give you my oath, Regan.”

  As she drew his mouth back to hers, she prayed it would be enough.

  CHAPTER 27

  Regan pulled the heavy all-weather jacket close around her. The air hung moist and clammy. Patches of fog drifted just above the water, giving the scene the look of a class B horror flick. Lightning flashed just over Mount Slioch’s shoulder.

  At the hollow thud of footsteps on the dock behind her, she looked down to the end of the platform. Quinn’s distinctive walk brought a smile to her face. Years of struggling against the force of water while walking on the bottom of lochs and the ocean had conditioned his body. He planted each foot with such smooth precision, such control.

  But he wasn’t controlled when they made love. A quick flash of how his lean muscular frame covered hers, how the taut muscles of his stomach caressed hers as he moved inside her, triggered an ache of need. She scrambled to her feet to meet him and flinched as the bruise on her calf sent a painful reminder of the injury.

  “Are you sure you want to try this?” he said as he reached her. The dull glow of the dock lights cast distorting shadows over his face, and she stepped close. His thick brows relaxed from a frown as she ran her hands up over his coat to loop her arms around his neck. His smile was a blend of tenderness and lust that kicked her heartbeat up a notch. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

  Quinn’s arms tightened around her, molding her to his tall frame. His instant reaction, though separated from her by two layers of denim, pressed against her stomach. Her legs grew rubbery and she fought the desire to rub against him.

  “Have you decided to stay here and focus your attention on something more interesting then?”

  She laughed. “I’m very tempted.” Her voice sounded breathless even to her. His quick smile and the slow shift of his body against hers sent tempting sensations trailing downward.

  The intensity of her feelings for him grew each day. Could she love him already? Or was it all an illusion she’d bought into with the visions? She didn’t think so but-—

  Uncertainty dried her mouth and she swallowed. “The conditions should be perfect for observing what happens to the stones during a storm. We may not have another opportunity before we leave for Edinburgh.”

  “Afterward, then?” he said. He cupped her buttocks one handed and held her against him as he nuzzled her neck.

  She bit back a groan. “Afterwards.” Her fingers combed through the thick hair at the back of his head. His teeth grazed the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder. Delightful tingles raced over her skin, and she shivered.

  The distant rumble of thunder drew her gaze to Slioch again. With a sigh she stepped back putting some space between them. “But we need to do this.” Was she trying to convince herself or him? Standing out in a thunderstorm close to the stones wasn’t the safest thing she’d ever done.

  “How’s the hand?” she asked as they strolled further down the dock to the skiff.

  He held it up and she flinched. The bruising had spread and his fingers were an eggplant purple.

  “Are you sure it’s not broken?”

  “The x-rays showed only a few hairline fractures.”

  “Oh, only a few?” Her voice held a note of amazement.

  “It’s just sore as hell. I’ve had worse injuries playing football.”

  “You really should keep it in a sling, Quinn. You’re taking your pain meds aren’t you?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  She punched his arm.

  The sound of thunder grew louder and more insistent as he helped her down into the skiff. “If the last one was any indication, we’ll have to take cover as soon as we get there,” he said.

  He started the engine and flipped on the running lights. A movement on the path in front of the cabins caught Regan’s attention, and she studied the hill. A figure came out of the trees to walk along the bank just west of the dock. Because of the distance, it was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman.

  Had the person been watching them? Her cheeks burned at the thought of what the observer might have seen. She turned her face into the cold air that whipped over the windshield of the boat.

  In less than two minutes, Quinn guided the skiff toward the dock at the dig site and cut the engine. The boat slid in next to the structure in a perfect, practiced motion.

  “You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” she said. “You always time that perfectly.”

  “Practice, darlin’.” He turned his head to gaze at her. “You often comment on my timing. I like that.”

  Regan laughed at his smug tone, though her cheeks heated again.

  He helped her out of the boat, then turned to gather three bundles from the floor behind the driver’s seat. Once again using one hand, he slid, in turn, a basket and two long draw-stringed pouches onto the dock, then stepped up.

  “Camp chairs?” she asked.

  “Aye.” He handed her an umbrella. “I saw no reason for us not to be comfortable while we watched.” He slung the handles of the two pouches over his shoulder. “And I brought a snack as well.”

  She smiled at his unexpected romantic gesture and then laughed aloud. “Only you would bring food to a thunderstorm.”

  “A man seizes his opportunities to please his caileag where he might.”

  Was she his girl? The emotions she read in his face, the passion she experienced when she was with him, told her yes. The sense that time was running out hung like a Scottish claymore over her. Over them both. Was that true? What would happen once they learned what Coira needed of them?

  They walked down the dock to the path that led to the dig site. The well-lit wooden platform ended in the darkness cast by the edge of the cofferdam. Quinn removed a flashlight from the basket he carried and handed it to her. They hiked up the gravel path toward the dig by the dim glow it cast.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked as he slowed his pace in deference to her limp.

  A match to his hand. “It’s just a little bruised and sore.”

  A light flared, catching them in its circle. Blinded, Regan threw up a hand to block the beam. Quinn swung out the arm with the basket as though to push her behind him.

  “Oh it’s you, Quinn.” As he turned the flashlight aside, Kennedy MacLeod, the security guard, rose like a mountain before them. His massive shoulders fell and his wide face held an expression of disappointment. “I was hoping for some excitement.”

  “From the looks of it, you’ll be getting some in about twenty minutes,” Quinn said. He looked over his shoulder at Slioch as thunder rumbled. “We’ve come to wa
tch the show.”

  “I was here for the last one. You’ll need to find cover and keep your distance.”

  Quinn nodded. “So we’ve heard. We’ll be sitting in the entrance of the main office. Should you see any movement there, you’ll know it’s us.”

  “All right. I’m going to make sure everythin’ is battened down here before it begins.” As he walked away, gravel crunched beneath his feet as though his size fourteens dug craters in the path.

  Regan drew a deep breath to try and quiet the runaway beat of her heart. MacLeod’s sudden appearance had set her nerves to jittering. Or was it the fast advancing storm? “Would you like me to carry some of that?” she asked as they strode up the path. The wind kicked a leaf across her face and she brushed it aside.

  Quinn quickened his pace. “And destroy the manly image I’m trying to project?”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to project anything. You walk into a room, and every woman there knows you’re a man. Sheary says it’s a testosterone thing.”

  A stiff wind struck them as they topped the hill. They passed the conservation lab and moved on to the main office. With its roofed portico, the entrance of the building acted as the perfect shelter. The exterior light’s buttery glow stretched out over the surrounding area. Quinn stepped up on the concrete porch and set the basket down. Regan turned off the flashlight and laid it and the umbrella against one of the roof supports.

  “Let me set up the chairs. You need to rest your hand,” she said as she reached for one of the long cases. She tugged the portable seat out of the carrying case and set it up.

  “I know you don’t drink, but I brought a bottle of wine to go with the cheese and fruit.”

  “One small glass will be all I can tolerate.” She set the other chair next to his and folded the cases together.

  “What happens if you drink more?” he asked offering her a hand as she climbed the steps with her chair. She set it next to his.

  “I get a terrible headache.”

  “One glass for you, and ‘twill leave the rest of the bottle for me.”

  Lightning flickered close overhead and she jumped. Quinn dragged the chairs further back from the edge of the structure. Rain beat the tin roof in a monotone, staccato rhythm.

  “Taranis sounds angry.”

  She looked up as she settled into her chair. ”Taranis?”

  “He’s the Celtic God of Thunder. He carries a lightning bolt in one hand and a wheel in the other. He’s also a God of fertility.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to strike us with any of that.”

  He laughed.

  “Do you know a lot about Celtic myths?” she asked.

  “Some. When you live in a country steeped in history and myth you have to soak up some of it.” He sat down in his camp chair.

  She shifted her chair a little forward. She leaned close and raised her voice as the storm intensified. The air held an electric feel to it that increased her tension. What if the storm had the same kind of effect as the song? What if either of them went into a fugue state and approached the stones? Would she be strong enough to keep Quinn with her? Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She bit her lip. It was too late to do anything about it.

  “What does the wheel represent?” she asked to distract herself.

  “’Tis called the wheel of the year. It represents the eight pagan festivals on the calendar. Samhain, which is All Hallow’s Eve, like your Halloween, but it falls on the first day of November. Yule falls around Christmas. Candlemas is the first of February. Ostara falls on the twenty-second of March. Beltane which is May Day. Midsummer falls during the summer solstice. Lughnasadh is a harvest festival the first day of August. And Mabon is between the twenty-first and twenty-fourth of September, another harvest festival. All eight are spaced equally about the wheel.”

  “I need to do some research on all that and see if it could tie into the monoliths in some way.”

  “Do you believe Coira a witch then?”

  “No.” A vein of lightening streaked across the sky right over the site. Regan yelped and jumped to her feet. She covered her ears as thunder hit with the strength of a bomb blast. The vibration of sound worked from the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head. The next flash of lightning struck one of the lintels sending up sparks.

  “Jesus—“ Quinn’s expletive was drowned by the next crash of thunder. He caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him.

  “Where did Kennedy go?” she shouted above the din, quick concern knotting her stomach. Had he finished his sweep of the site and gotten away from the monoliths in time?

  Quinn stepped closer to the edge of the small porch.

  Her heart stuttered, and she grasped his arm to tug him back.

  “He’ll be back at the guard shack by now,” he said, though his expression held concern for the man.

  A blinding flash lit the sky, and he dragged her further beneath the tin awning into the alcove where the door was set. His large body pressed into hers as he shielded her.

  An instant response shimmied through her, but the violence of the storm overrode the reaction. It seemed as though the front had settled over the site and sought to beat the monoliths into the ground. The lightning strikes came one after the other, the thunder a nearly continuous bass rumble that shook the earth and vibrated through the concrete of the portico.

  When the event finally ended, a numbing silence settled over the site. For countless moments she and Quinn stood together holding each other.

  “This place is dangerous. How can they open it to the public if these sodding things act as lightning rods?”

  She drew a trembling breath. As the tension of her muscles relaxed, her arms and legs shook with reaction. “I think we need to go check on Kennedy.”

  “Aye.”

  Quinn scooped up the flashlight while she raised the umbrella. Regan looped her arm through his as they walked down the gravel path.

  The ache in her calf intensified as they hit the upgrade, and Quinn slowed his pace to match hers. “He’ll be fine, Regan.”

  “I hope so.”

  The guard shack was actually a small building set above the site. Lights shined out the two windows on the eastern face of the structure. Regan stopped as she spied Kennedy sitting in a chair before a desk reading a book.

  “Well that’s a relief,” she said on a sigh as the tight band of anxiety tying her stomach into knots released.

  “Let’s leave him to his book and go back and open the wine.”

  “Or we could go down and see what effect, if any, the lightning had on the monoliths. The strikes have to screw with the magnetic field of the stones?”

  “Have you not tested it yet?” he asked, his tone laced with surprise.

  “They’ve kept me busy analyzing the data from our dive and helping in the preservation lab for the last few days.” It had more to do with liability for her injury than the need for her help in those areas.

  “We could go down and see if they register any type of magnetic qualities now that the lightning has passed,” he suggested.

  “We didn’t bring anything to test it with.”

  Quinn withdrew a pocketknife from his jeans. “If they’re magnetic this will stick to the side of a stone. It won’t be scientific, but we’ll be able to tell if the lightning charge has had an effect.”

  The crunch of the gravel beneath their feet had a soggy sound. The rain stopped as they reached the scaffolding, and Regan lowered the umbrella and folded it into its compact form.

  Quinn caught her hand as they strolled through the arch of the first monoliths. The air felt waterlogged, almost muggy, and smelt like the loch.

  He paused by the second stone, the one that had received a direct strike, and touched it with his pocketknife. The metal adhered to the stone as though glued there.

  “I’ll be damned.” He pulled free the blade and replaced it several times.

  Curious to see if all the mono
liths were affected or just a few, she tugged at his hand and they strolled around the henge in a counter clockwise direction. In a random pattern, they stopped at several stones to test them. Each showed the same magnetic ability.

  “I’ve never seen anythin’ like this,” Quinn said.

  “Neither have I.”

  She paused before the stone she’d been working on before her dive. Hannah had finished removing the algae. The flashlight’s illumination made the hieroglyphs look as though they writhed upon the face of the stone.

  “I haven’t looked at the markings up close. They appear alive somehow,” Quinn said as he rested his hand on the side of the stone and rubbed his fingers over it.

  “Alive. That’s a good way to put it.” Regan touched one deep groove in the center of the monolith. Warmth seared her fingertips, and the stone latched onto her skin with the ferocity of a hungry leech. A shudder, soul deep, raced through her system as prickles of fear and power raced through her system.

  “Quinn—“ His name was jerked from her, a plea and a warning. But it was too late.

  Light blazed between the monoliths, bathing Quinn’s tall form in fire.

  CHAPTER 28

  “No—“ Regan’s voice, sharp with panic, traveled to Quinn as from a great distance.

  Blinded by the sudden intense light, he threw up a hand to block it. Liquid warmth enveloped him, as though he’d been plunged into a hot tub. The sensation of weightlessness permeated his muscles, his bones.

  He lowered his hand and looked into the blaze to find a green field before him. The ebb and flow of the image rippled as a current eddied through it. The loch, just behind a small rise, glistened, the sun’s rays dancing across it. Wispy clouds feathered the deep, clear, azure blue sky.

  A bountiful peace infused him. Was this what his mother had felt as she’d waited for death? Was this why she hadn’t fought to live? Was this what Regan had experienced while sucked into the stone? If he took that last step, would he learn what had drawn them both away from this world into another? Or would he be lost forever? The idea offered him no fear, only curiosity. He took a clumsy half step toward the meadow.