priority, instead of the recovery of artifacts hidden beneath the mud. They would want to spend hours, weeks, and months digging in the muck. And they could, but only after the stones were in place. Once they were aligned, he would discover how to use them.
And he would make all that they were, or could be, his.
CHAPTER 5
Regan curled beneath the heavy wool blanket, fascinated by the lightning’s furious flicker as it played across the walls of her cabin. The ship’s metal bulkheads seemed to hum each time the thunder hit. What would happen if the boat received a direct hit? Could electricity travel through the metal floors to the bunk she lay on?
The sudden cessation of both light and sound was almost as unnerving as the storm. She lay still, listening to the steady drip of water outside and feeling the slow pitch of the ship. Her stomach growled. She glanced at her dive watch. Everyone else would probably be awake and stirring. She might as well get up.
She groaned as she wiggled free of the blankets and rose. Her muscles, stiff and sore from the exertion the day before, protested every movement. Gingerly, she shed the man’s t-shirt that hung to mid thigh and donned the long underwear she wore under her dry suit.
She finger-combed her hair as she wandered through the dim corridors, lit by wide-spaced safety lights. Just outside the galley her bare foot hit a damp spot, and she frowned. Someone had been up on deck and forgotten to wipe their feet. The stale smell of fried fish lingered on the air as she entered the galley. Surprised not to find someone already there, she chose a bottled soft drink from the small refrigerator and wandered into the kitchen area.
She scanned the shelves of the industrial-sized refrigerator for something to ease her hunger. Cold fish and chips did not look appealing, and everything else had to be cooked. A bright red apple shone in a basket on the counter. She grabbed the fruit at the same time she nudged the fridge door closed.
She sauntered out onto the deck. The loch appeared calm. The gentle rock of the boat was barely discernible. For a moment she paused to study the rugged beauty of Mount Slioch as it thrust into a sky so clear a blue it almost hurt to look at it.
After the storms the night before and this morning, Regan renewed her opinion that Scotland was indeed a country of extremes. Thus far she had seen rolling hills, boggy marshes, thick clumps of forest, and craggy mountains like the one that stood before her. The glaciers that had dragged, cut, and carved their way across the area had left behind a terrain that was both harsh and so beautiful it brought an ache to her throat.
She wondered at her reaction. Since she had arrived, there had been times she felt as though she were grieving a long absence. Perhaps her emotional attachment to this place had fed the fantasy of the day before.
Niggling worry settled in the pit of her stomach, making her feel queasy. Perhaps the stress of working on her Archaeology degree, doing research, and holding down a job had exhausted her to the point her mind was wandering. She pressed the heel of her hand against the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t afford to blow things now. She was too close to her goal. She couldn’t let her parents down. She needed to relax and just absorb the experience here and learn all she could.
As she lowered her hand, a movement to her right caught her attention, and she focused on the dark blue cofferdam only a few hundred feet off the starboard side of the ship. She shivered and folded her arms against the early morning chill as she watched a man walk along the top of the structure. He paused halfway across and bent to dig in the sand that filled the inner core. He withdrew something from the surface and held it up to study.
Sensing movement behind her, she turned to find Quinn standing in the doorway. “You’ll catch a chill walking about in that getup,” he said by way of
And he would make all that they were, or could be, his.
CHAPTER 5
Regan curled beneath the heavy wool blanket, fascinated by the lightning’s furious flicker as it played across the walls of her cabin. The ship’s metal bulkheads seemed to hum each time the thunder hit. What would happen if the boat received a direct hit? Could electricity travel through the metal floors to the bunk she lay on?
The sudden cessation of both light and sound was almost as unnerving as the storm. She lay still, listening to the steady drip of water outside and feeling the slow pitch of the ship. Her stomach growled. She glanced at her dive watch. Everyone else would probably be awake and stirring. She might as well get up.
She groaned as she wiggled free of the blankets and rose. Her muscles, stiff and sore from the exertion the day before, protested every movement. Gingerly, she shed the man’s t-shirt that hung to mid thigh and donned the long underwear she wore under her dry suit.
She finger-combed her hair as she wandered through the dim corridors, lit by wide-spaced safety lights. Just outside the galley her bare foot hit a damp spot, and she frowned. Someone had been up on deck and forgotten to wipe their feet. The stale smell of fried fish lingered on the air as she entered the galley. Surprised not to find someone already there, she chose a bottled soft drink from the small refrigerator and wandered into the kitchen area.
She scanned the shelves of the industrial-sized refrigerator for something to ease her hunger. Cold fish and chips did not look appealing, and everything else had to be cooked. A bright red apple shone in a basket on the counter. She grabbed the fruit at the same time she nudged the fridge door closed.
She sauntered out onto the deck. The loch appeared calm. The gentle rock of the boat was barely discernible. For a moment she paused to study the rugged beauty of Mount Slioch as it thrust into a sky so clear a blue it almost hurt to look at it.
After the storms the night before and this morning, Regan renewed her opinion that Scotland was indeed a country of extremes. Thus far she had seen rolling hills, boggy marshes, thick clumps of forest, and craggy mountains like the one that stood before her. The glaciers that had dragged, cut, and carved their way across the area had left behind a terrain that was both harsh and so beautiful it brought an ache to her throat.
She wondered at her reaction. Since she had arrived, there had been times she felt as though she were grieving a long absence. Perhaps her emotional attachment to this place had fed the fantasy of the day before.
Niggling worry settled in the pit of her stomach, making her feel queasy. Perhaps the stress of working on her Archaeology degree, doing research, and holding down a job had exhausted her to the point her mind was wandering. She pressed the heel of her hand against the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t afford to blow things now. She was too close to her goal. She couldn’t let her parents down. She needed to relax and just absorb the experience here and learn all she could.
As she lowered her hand, a movement to her right caught her attention, and she focused on the dark blue cofferdam only a few hundred feet off the starboard side of the ship. She shivered and folded her arms against the early morning chill as she watched a man walk along the top of the structure. He paused halfway across and bent to dig in the sand that filled the inner core. He withdrew something from the surface and held it up to study.
Sensing movement behind her, she turned to find Quinn standing in the doorway. “You’ll catch a chill walking about in that getup,” he said by way of
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