Page 21 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

Sixteen

A knife! The metal, likely iron, was separated from what had to be the handle. Just a bit more dirt and then she could call to the others to bring the camera to photograph her find before she moved it from its resting place.

She’d known what she’d find the instant Jonathan had brought her to this spot.

Separated from the main dig site by a copse of trees, she initially voiced a concern as to whether it was included in their permissions for the dig, but that was, of course, Jonathan’s area of expertise, not hers, as he’d quickly reminded her.

There had also been the matter of leaving the comfort of the others to accompany Jonathan to this spot, but she rationalized her actions in that she was well within screaming distance.

Besides, Jonathan had been a perfect gentleman this morning.

Maybe he felt guilty for his behavior the night before, as well he should.

Whatever the reason, his focus today clearly centered on the work.

His excitement had spilled over in his voice as he’d followed the coordinates on his handheld GPS device to lead her here.

Based on his latest research he was positive, he’d confided, that this would have been the spot where the peoples he sought would have staged a camp.

He simply wanted some concrete proof before he shifted the whole operation to this spot.

Proof she’d known she could give him the instant she allowed her feelings to spread out in search of what might lie underground.

Artifacts! Bits of history calling out to her to free them from the layers of dirt within which they lay hidden.

“If we can find one of their campsites, I’m certain we’ll find their ceremonial stones,” he’d told her, his eyes glittering with excitement. “And once we’ve found that, all my theories will be confirmed.”

No stones such as he sought were in this area, she was sure of that, but she didn’t say anything to him.

There was no way to explain how she knew it with such certainty and, anyway, there were plenty of bits and pieces left behind by the people who had passed through here.

More than enough to justify her working this area today.

And now she’d found this lovely piece. The handle looked as if it had some sort of intricate carving, but it would be difficult to say for sure until she could free it completely.

The fine mist of rain that had begun at some point while she’d been engrossed in freeing this artifact complicated her work, but she didn’t want to stop now. She was too close to leave this little treasure exposed to the open elements.

The sound of a car motor in the distance jolted her from her concentration, and she sat back on her heels, realizing as she did that she’d once again spent much too long in one position.

Even as the first sound faded, a second started up and rapidly faded away, too.

What the heck?

She tipped her head, listening intently for any sound coming from the direction of the main dig activity. Why would someone take the vans and leave everyone stranded out here in the middle of the afternoon? Especially with the rain picking up again.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated to catch any sounds. The mist hitting the leaves of the trees and brush around her was all she could hear.

That made absolutely no sense at all. There was always some type of noise with a group the size of theirs. Unless the group was gone.

What a ridiculous thought. They wouldn’t leave without her. Even if no one else remembered her, Mackenzie’s ever-present clipboard would have prevented anyone’s being left behind.

She pulled off her vest and staged it across the ribbon surrounding her hole in an attempt to protect her find and then rose to her feet. Her legs tingled with lack of use and the blood rushed to her head in a dizzying whoosh, forcing her to pause for a moment before starting off.

Pushing through the trees toward the main site, she moved as quietly as possible, listening for the normal noise she’d expect from the group.

Nothing. Not a single sound.

“Mackenzie?” She waited in uncomfortable silence for a response, picking up her speed when none came. “Anybody?”

Even before she’d made it all the way through the trees, she could see what her mind didn’t want to accept.

The site was empty. No vans, no people, nothing but rain peppering down on the canvas covers they’d left behind.

A lurch of disbelief tracked like a shot of nausea through her stomach. Disbelief and hunger. She’d skipped breakfast to avoid bumping into Jonathan, and she’d been so involved in following the vision in her head to the artifact underground, she’d completely forgotten lunch.

“I don’t freaking believe this.” Propping her hands on her hips, she scanned the area again for any sign of her group.

They’d abandoned her. Wet, dirty, hungry, “And pissed,” she announced emphatically to the empty site. “Totally pissed as hell!”

Just wait until she got her hands on Mackenzie and that piece of crap clipboard of hers.

“There you are.”

Abby barely avoided a full-scale scream when Jonathan emerged from the trees behind her.

“What the hell, Jonathan? Where did everyone go?” And, more to the point, why did they go without her?

“When the rain started to pick up, I sent them on ahead. I’d just checked on you and saw that you were immersed in your work so I thought you’d prefer having the extra time and riding back with me.

Besides, we’ve barely had a moment alone together for the past week.

My car is parked only a short walk down the road. ”

Damn straight they hadn’t had a moment alone. She’d had to put a lot of effort into arranging it that way, too. All that careful maneuvering for nothing. No avoiding him now. Best laid plans and all that rubbish.

“Why don’t we secure your site before we go? I take it you found something? I saw you’d left your vest there.”

He raked a hand over his mouth and chin, his eyes fastening much lower than her face.

Oh, damn.

Only now did it occur to Abby what she must look like. A quick glance down confirmed the worst. The rain that had turned her hair to a thick soggy mat had rendered her silk shirt almost invisible. She might as well be standing here in nothing but her bra.

Leaving her vest to protect the artifact she’d found seemed a pretty stupid idea in retrospect.

Her face heated to the point she expected steam to begin rising any second as she headed into the trees. Jonathan was instantly at her side, pushing back branches to assist her, his free hand lingering at her lower back guiding her forward.

When they stepped into the little clearing where she’d been working, he hurried ahead, snatching up her vest and reaching down to run a finger over her find.

“A magnificent treasure, to be sure,” he said, his eyes fastened on her. “Come, tell me, what do you think these markings might mean?”

Reluctantly eying the vest he’d tossed out of her reach, she dropped to her knees beside him, once again studying what appeared to be a design carved into the ancient wooden handle.

“I can’t be sure until we have it out and cleaned, but I’m thinking it might be some type of overlapping circles.”

Her thoughts were cut short with a gasp as Jonathan trailed a hand up her spine, his fingers tightening around the base of her neck, firmly urging her face toward his.

This wasn’t happening.

On reflex she jerked her arms up between them, pushing against his chest. “Look, Jonathan—”

“I have looked,” he interrupted, “and I very much like what I see, Abigail. I like it and I want it for my very own.”

To her surprise, he dragged her forward, crushing his mouth over hers, roughly catching up her bottom lip with his teeth as his free hand covered her breast.

“No!” she grunted, and shoved against his chest with all her strength, pushing away and scrambling backward across the muddy earth.

His hand was so quick, she hardly saw the movement, but his fingers caught her wrist and tightened in a viselike grip. She pulled against his hold in quick, useless jerky movements, as he drew her inexorably closer to him, dragging her to her feet as he stood.

“I’d hoped to do this the easy way, Abigail, but you thwart me at every turn. You’re leaving me no choice, love.”

He’d flipped out. Total off-the-wall bonkers. And she hadn’t a clue what he intended or what she should do. Except get away. She knew she had to get away.

She grasped at straws. “No, no. . . you have choices. There are lots of choices, Jonathan. We always have choices,” she babbled, her voice little more than a squeak in her desperation to escape him.

“We’ll see,” he answered, tightening his grip on her wrist as he reached his other hand into his pocket, pulling out his gold knife.

That couldn’t be good. “What? What do you think you’re doing? Jonathan? You’re frightening me. Let go of me right now.”

He drew her hand to his lips for a kiss, overpowering her struggles as if she were a child. Lowering the hand, he chuckled, a wicked light in his eyes as he sliced into the tip of her index finger with his knife.