“She has translated some of the hieroglyphs. One on the altar. I suspect she may be correct about it being a sarcophagus of sorts,” Nicodemus said, drawing his attention back to the conversation.
“How could she translate the hieroglyphs? She has no training in epigraphy. “
“You chose her. She’s been researching other similar sites since the moment she arrived. The research history was saved in her email.
A wry smile twisted his lips. Obviously he’d underestimated her abilities. “We don’t have any information about the altar yet. We may have to excavate it soon, just to see if there’s anything helpful inside.”
“Yes, I agree.” Nicodemus paused. “What are they doing?”
“I’ve followed them to a large house outside of Edinburgh. I’ll find out what they’re doing here as soon as they leave.”
“Be careful. You don’t want to alert them to our interest.”
His shoulders tightened with irritation. He kept his voice even with an effort. “They have no idea I’m here. I’ll call if I have anything to report.”
“Very good.” He paused. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we find out what she knows, and how she knows it.”
Time was running out for Nicodemus. He could see that for himself. The man seemed to grow frailer every day.
He didn’t need the man, but he needed the money to continue to flow into the project.
“I know how imperative it is to find out. I’ll do my best.”
He flipped the phone shut just as Quinn appeared at the front door with Regan, his arm about her waist.
The way she leaned against Quinn sickened him. Her calling was with the henge. Not with a salvage diver. He had researched and picked each student for their drive and their knowledge. She had been focused, meticulous, and now she was allowing her relationship to the bastard to distract her. She was throwing her chance away.
Quinn fawned over Regan, helping her into the car before crossing over to get in the driver’s seat. He shook his head. Perhaps he had misjudged her. Perhaps she wasn’t as devoted to her career as he’d thought.
He waited for them to pull away before opening the car door and stepping out. The air seemed heavy with moisture and unusually still. Pausing, he assessed the house and his surroundings before approaching the front door. He pushed the doorbell and soon heard footsteps from within.
“What do you want?” A slightly plump, middle-aged woman opened the door, her expression angry. She started, her eyes widening, and her expression shifted to one of embarrassed chagrin. “Please forgive me. I thought you were someone else.” She smoothed her gray hair with hands that shook, her flushed cheeks growing darker.
She was angry, and Quinn and Regan had just left. Mentally, he paged through possible ways of handling the situation while giving her time to compose herself.
“I was supposed to meet some friends here.”
Her features stiffened. “I’m sorry, no one’s here but me.”
“Quinn Douglas and Regan Stanhope. Do you know them? Were they here?”
“They’ve just left.”
“They didn’t tell me why we were to meet here.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I’m not at liberty to speak about that. You’ll have to ask them.”
He eyed her pinched expression. His gaze wandered about the well-manicured yard and for the first time he noticed a sign partially hidden behind a shrub close to the front door. “Dr. Alice Reinhart, Therapist.
“What is it you do?”
She hesitated, her expression wary. “I’m a specialist in hypnotherapy.”
Whom had she hypnotized? And why would she be angry about it?
Perhaps Quinn wasn’t fawning over Regan. He was helping her into the car.
He had to know what she’d said.
His eyes focused on the doctor. “Was Regan all right when she left?”
“I can’t tell you anything about the session.”
He controlled the satisfied smile that threatened. She just did. “We’ve been very concerned about her.”
When she opened her mouth to reply he controlled the urge to lean closer.
Her hand shook as she brushed at the bangs that feathered her forehead. “She can tell you about—about it herself. Good day.”
What had Regan revealed that had shaken the woman so badly? He had to know. He leapt up the stairs and forced the door open. Startled she staggered back.
“What are you doing?” Her voice broke, her tone panicked.
“You’re going to tell me what happened in the session. Every word.”
Her cheeks paled as he kicked the door shut.
CHAPTER 32
“Are you all right?” Quinn asked as he pulled onto A7 going North, back to Edinburgh and the bed and breakfast.
Regan tilted her head back against the seat rest and fought the urge to rub her throbbing temples. “Yes. Just wiped out.”
“Do you remember anything that happened?”
“Yes. There was a storm coming. Coira was anxious. She wanted me to walk the circle, but there was more that she didn’t get a chance to tell us. Something about the conditions that have to be in place before it will work.”
She studied the handprint on his cheek. “Did I do that?”
He touched the mark. “No. Dr. Reinhart.”
Anger tightened her stomach. “I’m sorry.” She touched his arm.
Quinn shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
He shifted his gaze from the road to her face for a second. “It scared the shite out of her.”
“Yeah. It scares me too.” She rubbed her arms still cold from the sensation of being two people instead of one. The thought sent a shudder through her.
As though he read her thoughts, Quinn said, “The moment you opened your eyes, I knew I was looking into Coira’s. Her eyes are a different color than yours, Regan. Blue-green. You were her.”
Regan rubbed at the goose bumps that rose on her arms. “I know.” She swallowed. “It isn’t like being possessed. We’re still separate. It’s just—I’m there with her. I’m still a separate consciousness, but I know what she thinks and feels.”
He laced his fingers with hers. “It’s too close, Regan.”
Her fingers tightened. “I’m not afraid of being lost inside her reality, but that no matter what we do—it will be too late to help her.”
His jaw worked. “You’re going to have to give me a wee bit of time to recover from this latest experience before asking me to worry about anyone but the two of us.”
The gruffness of his tone brought her attention to his face. How would she feel had it been Braden who had looked out of Quinn’s eyes? She studied his bold profile, so defined, so masculine. His hair, dark and slightly coarse, curled around his ears and along the collar of his shirt. The inky blackness of a beard shadowed his jaw. Every image, every new detail that she discovered about him grew more precious by the day. A chill danced across her skin, and she shivered again.
Quinn shot her a look of concern. “When we get to the hotel, you need to have a lie-in. I’ll go out and collect some dinner. Or we can order in room service.”
Exhaustion tugged at her making sleep difficult to resist. “The room service sounds perfect. I just want to lie down for a few moments.” The motion of the car lulled her. “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.”
Quinn’s voice drew her back to awareness. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of exhaust trapped inside the car from a passing bus, she hastened to climb out of the car. They crossed the street to a Victorian style house wedged between two others similar in color, to the one where they were staying. Quinn took her pack from her and encircled her waist with one arm, drawing her against him, the gesture protective, supportive.
Quinn unlocked the door and motioned her through the entrance foyer. A woman appeared in the dining room doorway. “There’s a message for you, Quinn. They called earlier to make sure you didn’t miss it.” S
he retrieved a slip of paper from a file box on the buffet.
Setting the pack down, Quinn accepted it and paused to read the message, then passed it on to Regan. The terse note from Dr. Fraser was short and to the point. They were to return right away, they needed them at the dig.
“Wonder who put a shark in his shorts about our being here?” she asked as they climbed the stairs to their room.
Quinn shook his head.
“We’re not going back until we finish the research at the archives, are we?” she asked.
“No. A few hours one way or the other won’t make any difference. But I’ll have to call Logan and see what this is about.”
Regan nodded.
“You can lie down while I make the call.”
“I’m all right, now that I’ve had a nap.”
“I’m not,” he said his tone short, his green eyes shadowed. “This isn’t some grand adventure.” He twisted the key in the door and shoved it open.
Entering the room close behind him, Regan shut the door and shook free of her jacket. “I know.”
He swung around to face her. “It’s bloody insane. And bloody dangerous. What if you hadn’t come back?”
She shook her head. “That wouldn’t have happened.” She tossed the jacket on the bed.
“How can you be sure?” His features looked taut, aggressive, the flat planes of his cheekbones thrusting against his skin giving him a look of—Braden.
“She can’t stay in our time any more than I can stay in hers. We’re just borrowing energy from one another. Isn’t that the way it feels for you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve felt Braden’s pain, his joy and his passion. I’m a voyeur to their lives. We’re both voyeurs.” He raked his hand through his hair, shoving the curls from his forehead. “It’s enough to know my own.” He set the pack aside on the dresser and tugged his jacket off and slung it across the room at the small table in front of the window.
Regan grasped his hand but he jerked away. “I can’t protect you, Regan.” His jabbed the air in a gesture of angry frustration. “When you’re in one of these states, I’m completely helpless.”
She didn’t expect him to protect her, but of course he’d want to. Just as Braden had always protected Coira. They were so much alike. Yet so different. His expression of concern triggered her need to comfort him. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed close. “I’m fine. She hasn’t hurt me in any way.” His arms tightened around her to the point of pain.
“I’ve only experienced Braden’s life through dreams. I’ve never been taken over as you’ve been,” he said his tone subdued. “Not until the stones.”
Shock rocked through her system and she looked up. “Surely you don’t truly believe what Dr. Reinhart said?”
“No. It isn’t spirits or entities that are haunting us. It’s—a force, a will greater than our own.”
“Coira loved Braden a great deal.”
“Aye. But there’s more than love at work here. There’s something else she wanted to protect even more than she wanted to protect her family.” His finger’s grasped her arms, his expression intent as he looked down at her. “She’s so driven, Regan. She sacrificed everything once. There’s no guarantee that she won’t lure you into doing the same.” He rested his forehead against hers. His voice grew husky. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Her limbs grew weak at the emotion in his tone, and she looped her arms around his neck. “I’m here. Nothing will happen to me. I won’t let it. We won’t let it.”
His hands ran up and down her back in a restless movement. “My father died during a dive. My mother tied herself to his body and wouldn’t leave him.”
Shock punched her hard. “God, Quinn. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t tie yourself to people who’ve been dead for hundreds of years. Tie yourself to the living.” He tapped his chest just over his heart. “To me.”
Pain and joy tangled together inside her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I already have, Quinn.” Her arms tightened around his neck, and she held him close.
His comment to Marissa about the living being more important than the past had meant more than his angst over a broken love affair. His need for her to put him first—for her to pick family over Coira and Braden— outweighed everything else. Why hadn’t she recognized that before?
But how could they ignore the two people they’d come to know and care about? How could they set aside Braden and Coira’s need and build their happiness on the other couple’s loss?
How could they put their own needs ahead of the rest of humanity? They had to find a way to lock away the power the stones emitted.
Her throat worked against a knot of emotion. She drew back to look up at him.
His mouth took hers with a fierce hunger that stole her breath and parted her lips. The quick eager thrust of his tongue shot a rush of sensation down her body. She moaned beneath the force of the kiss.
Regan thrust her fingers through his thick, coarse hair. Quinn’s hand at the small of her back pulled her body into his. His palm slid downward to cup her buttocks and curve her closer.
His arousal pushed against her stomach. Her legs grew weighted in instant response.
The careful pressure of his touch as he cupped her breast sent a tingling heat down her body to the intimate area between her legs. With every touch, every kiss, he made her feel cherished, while at the same time he demanded more. The kiss grew languorous while his hand meandered beneath her shirt and traced a leisurely path over her skin.
He tugged her shirt upward, and Regan raised her arms to allow him to pull it free. His gaze trailed over her shoulder and breasts, his fingertips finding the sensitive peaks and her nipples tightened. Regan breathed his name as his lips found her throat.
Her hands shook as they burrowed beneath his sweater and pulled upward. Unable to wait she pressed her bare skin against his. The fine rough hair on his abdomen brushed her belly and she wanted to nestle against him like a cat.
Quinn murmured a sound of pleasure and, with an impatient jerk, peeled his sweater off and tossed it aside. His hands went to the snap of her jeans at the same time hers did his.
Regan’s laughter blended with his.
The sound died as their gazes met. Could they ignore their responsibility for just a while longer? “Quinn,” her voice came out a husky whisper.
“I know.”
They shed their jeans with frantic haste. Quinn kneeled before her, his lips finding the curve of her pelvic bone, the sensitive skin between her breasts. Regan relished the prickle of his beard against her skin. His lips rose to hers and he eased her down on the bed. Regan’s throat tightened at the tenderness of his kisses, his touch, the drowsy look of desire and more imprinted on his features.
Tears stung her eyes at the rush of emotion. She cupped his face with her hands and drew his lips to hers. His tongue tangled with hers in instant response.
She loved him. Loved him. The acknowledgement filled her rich and full, like wine in a goblet. Her throat tightened with emotion.
With a hand against his shoulder, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. She bent her head to brush soft, unhurried kisses over his face, his chest, then lower. His stomach grew taut as she pressed open-mouthed kisses down his abdomen, tasting the texture of his skin, breathing in his scent.
Quinn’s hand brushed her neck, her back, and then tangled in her hair as her mouth closed around him. His muscles tensed and he gave a strangled sound of pleasure as she sucked.
His excitement fed hers, and her caresses grew bolder. The harder he grew the more intent her caresses.
When she cupped his balls, Quinn dragged her upward, and turning, flipped her onto her back. His body covered hers, and pushing her legs wide with his knees, he cupped her buttocks to raise her hips. The first deep thrust had her crying out in pleasure.
The raw sexuality of their coupling stole her breath. Titillating pleasure n
estled deep inside her, tempting, tormenting. She murmured Quinn’s name, her tone encouraging, pleading. In response, his movements grew more emphatic. The sensation grew unbearable, building and building. Her breathing grew ragged as it rose to a peak. Sweet, aching release broke over her, making her fingers and toes tingle.
Regan clung to him as she tried to catch her breath, the echo of his release thrumming inside her.
When he raised his head to look down at her, she combed the thick hair at the back of his head with her fingers. “Don’t say anything. I just want to enjoy being here with you right here, right now with nothing between us. Just for a little while.”
Pain and pleasure blended in Quinn’s expression. He brushed her lips with his own.
If only they could just walk away from it all and be with each other. Tears stung her eyes and she held him close.
If only she could be certain they wouldn’t lose each other by doing the right thing.
CHAPTER 33
Regan nestled close. The bare skin of her breast pressed into his side and her thigh brushed his. A resurgence of desire jetted through Quinn. As she traced his collarbone with her fingertips, he swallowed.
“I’m sorry about your parents, Quinn.” Her voice sounded soft, nearly a whisper.
“I am too. I’ve gone over and over in my head what might have happened. There’s no reason why my mum wouldn’t have tried to surface.”
“There are a thousand things that could have happened. Even small mistakes or accidents underwater can be catastrophic.” Her arm tightened around his waist.
He’d played them every one through his mind. “She’d tied them both to the wreck they were exploring so their bodies would be easy to recover.”
Regan shuddered and moved her cheek against his chest.
Why couldn’t he get past the anger he felt every time he thought about it? She’d left them. They both had. “Why wasn’t the instinct to survive stronger than her desire to stay with my da?”
“She may have used up too much of her air to make it to the surface. And you know how much damage surfacing without decompressing can do. If she’d shot to the surface, she’d have died of an embolism before you could have done anything for her. Would you have wanted that for her?”
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