The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,44
bag.
She took the bag and opened it. Cinnamon drops. Pleasure swarmed through her. “I was almost out, too. How did you know?”
His smile was all genial charm, but something passed through his eyes that flushed her body with heat. Her memory shot back to searing kisses and skin on skin. She couldn’t look at him, afraid that everyone could tell what was going on in her head. How could they not tell, when her thoughts were so loud?
“Know anything of archaeology, Waverly?” asked Flintrop.
Ian shrugged. “I’m familiar with the digging part.”
“Ian spent part of a day helping us dig peat,” Sara said, still distracted by the way her thoughts kept snapping back to the afternoon in Ian’s tent.
“I’m sure that was enough to turn you off of archaeology altogether,” said Flintrop.
Ian didn’t look away from Sara. “Not entirely, no.”
“Well, we’re fully staffed now, so we won’t be taking up your time any longer. I’m sure you have plenty of your own work to do,” Flintrop added. He gave a plastered-on smile, then turned away from Ian and went back to tipping his brandy.
Sara stood. “Would you excuse us?” Without waiting for Flintrop’s answer, she started away. Ian walked with her to her tent. “Sorry about him.”
“Who is that guy?”
She sighed. “Alan Flintrop. I’m going to be working with him for the rest of the summer. I know he’s a pain in the—”
“No, he’s great. Must have tons of friends.”
“Sure, if they’re wealthy enough to be in his little club of worshippers.” She waved her hand in the air. “That’s not the point. We need his help on this project if we’re going to get done on time and within budget...and why am I explaining this to you? You don’t care.”
He stepped closer to her, causing her to back up in surprise against the wall of her tent. His eyes bored into hers, as focused as a hunting raptor. “Oh, I care...just not about him.”
Her heart thudded in her ears. Could he hear it? He bent his head. His breath warmed her face, and she leaned forward to close the distance, because for the love of God, it wasn’t happening fast enough...
“Sara, may I have a word with you?”
Ian jerked back with his face completely blank. Lambertson stood nearby. Sara felt her face burn, and passed Ian a guilty look. “I—”
He smiled. “Don’t sweat it. I have some birding notes to catch up on. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed up the slope of the island. She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness, even now wishing him back. A charge of desire coursed through her and left her shivering with aftershock. How? How, when he hadn’t even kissed her?
Lambertson approached her with an expression that made her feel like a wayward teenager. “I would venture to say he’s distinctly interested in what’s going on down here.”
She gawked. “Are you being parental with me?”
“I am telling you to the point. I don’t trust that young man, and I don’t want him here. This project is confidential. His presence is a liability.”
“Come on, Lamb—”
His frown cut her off. “I am the project supervisor, Sara. Don’t make me employ that authority.”
He’d never used that tone on her before, even during her undergrad years. Hurt, she zipped open her tent flap and stepped inside, shutting it before he could say anything further.
****
Several days after Lamb’s reinforcements arrived, the peat and earth gave way to the first layer of stone marking the enclosure of their suspected Viking-era house. Sara couldn’t feel more than a distant pleasure at the milestone. She hadn’t seen Ian in almost a week. Whenever she found the time, Lamb managed to concoct a task that kept her at the dig. Moody and restless, she worked beside Faith at one of the plots.
“Now all we need from this mudpit is an artifact, and we’re in business,” said Faith.
Her sister seemed to have enough good spirits for both of them lately. Sara offered a smile and went back to scooping earth. Seconds passed.
At length, Faith hissed, “Quit moping and go see him. You’re a grown woman.”
Needled, Sara redoubled her efforts at removing soil from the house wall. “Lamb’s already made it abundantly clear what he thinks of Ian. We can’t afford to lose this project.”
Flintrop approached. “We’re having a bonfire tonight to celebrate,” he announced. “I’m heading to Unst this afternoon for some aqua vitae, if you’d like to come.” He spoke to both of them, but his attention hovered