said, “I hope you’ll give our offer some thought. I’ll be happy to supply details anytime.”
Even as she shook her head, starting to say thanks but no thanks, Brodie argued, sitting back in his chair again to fix her with a direct look. “If you’re really worried about the site being ruined this is your chance to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Sienna hesitated, and Granger flicked Brodie a slightly amused glance. “He’s right. But your university job isn’t something to be treated lightly. Nor, I understand, is possibly risking your reputation among your peers. I know a lot of archaeologists regard working with treasure salvors as incompatible with their profession.”
Granger’s understanding and Brodie’s challenge made her seem stuffy and overcautious—and more interested in preserving her position and salary than in her avowed mission of saving precious remnants of the past. She directed a suspicious look at Granger, but his expression was perfectly serious, his eyes blandly meeting hers.
“There’s no immediate hurry to make a decision,” he told her. “The Sea-Rogue won’t be sailing again until the hurricane season’s over, and we have a top-notch salvage team and the necessary equipment in place. Camille intends to finish the semester. Maybe if you decide not to take the job you could recommend someone.”
Then he turned to Mona, offering to refill her wineglass, and the subject was dropped.
After she’d gone to bed, Sienna lay listening to the breakers gently washing the sand, the occasional sound of a car passing by, voices carrying on the clear night air.
She shouldn’t even be thinking about Granger’s surprising proposition, but her mind wouldn’t let it go.
What he was offering could be an escape from a niggling worry that she’d put to the back of her mind.
She’d scarcely thought about Aidan Rutherford, her head of department, since coming to Mokohina.
Aidan had visited almost daily when she was in hospital, bringing flowers, books and exotic foodstuffs that he hoped would tempt her appetite. He’d even volunteered to keep an eye on her home and water her plants and feed the little cat that had adopted her.
One afternoon, he’d caught her hand in his and leaned toward her, saying her name in an urgent undertone. But when her startled gaze flew to his earnest brown eyes he’d suddenly dropped her hand, sat back and pinched the skin on the bridge of his long nose, his expression hidden as he muttered, “I hope you’ll be better soon. I…we miss you in the staff room.”
On her first day back at work his rather melancholy face lit up with relief when she walked into his office. He’d come round his desk and taken both her hands, then brushed a light kiss across her cheek, and after stepping back there was color in his normally sallow cheeks. He’d passed a hand over his thinning hair before retreating behind his desk and assuming a businesslike manner, to her considerable relief.
If Aidan ever showed signs of more than friendly interest they were both in trouble. He was married.
Not only married, but with a delightful brown-eyed daughter of six years.
Apart from an aversion to messy extramarital affairs between colleagues that led to gossip and tensions and sometimes wrecked careers and lives, and Sienna’s own moral and very personal objections to breaking up a marriage, no way could she be responsible for hurting a child.
He was the kind of man she’d hoped one day to meet, but he was definitely off limits.
Maybe she was mistaking concern at her illness for something else. But even though she tried to believe that, she couldn’t shake the uneasy knowledge that lately Aidan had been looking at her in a way she found disquieting, hurriedly shifting his gaze when he saw she’d noticed.
There were soft footsteps in the passageway, and someone quietly opened and closed a door. A light flickered against the window for a few minutes, then went out, leaving the room seemingly darker than before.
Resolutely Sienna closed her eyes. Images of the day imprinted themselves on her lids like a moving slide show. Camille’s radiant face, the sunlight that had flashed briefly on the gold band Rogan placed firmly on his bride’s finger, Granger reaching to catch the bouquet that now sat in a vase on the low table by the window. She had no idea what she was going to do with it. Probably leave it for the hotel staff to take care of.
The last clear picture she saw before drifting off was of Brodie Stanner looking at her with studied concentration when she threw back at him his question about ever having been in love. And she heard again the strange intensity in his voice as he lifted his gaze to watch Rogan and Camille and said, “Not like that.”
Rogan had arranged for Granger to drive Sienna to Auckland where he had his home and legal practice, and she was booked on a flight to take her from there farther south to Palmerston North, where she’d pick up her own car and drive to her house near the Rusden campus.
On the way he told her what terms the company could offer an archaeologist, and at the airport insisted on carrying her bag to the counter. He bought a newspaper, and while she checked in, he glanced over a couple of pages.
As Sienna turned back to him with her boarding pass in her hand he gave a soft exclamation and frowned down at something he was reading.
“What is it?” she asked.
Granger looked up, his mouth hardening. “James Drummond’s broken his bail conditions. Apparently he hasn’t been seen for two months.”
It was a moment before she connected. Then a cold shiver attacked her spine. James Drummond had been indirectly responsible for the death of Granger and Rogan’s father.
“Damn.” Granger’s voice held unusual force. “And damn the judge who let him stay out of jail until the trial. Now there may not be one.”
“He threatened to kill Camille and Rogan!” He’d been prepared to stop at nothing to get at the Maiden’s Prayer and her treasure before the Brodericks. Even murder.
“Yes,” Granger agreed grimly. “Though I don’t suppose they’re in any danger now that there’s nothing he can get from them. He’s probably only concerned with saving his own skin. He’ll be lying low somewhere. Maybe out of the country.”
In a way Sienna hoped so. “Didn’t he have to hand over his passport?”
“As the police said when they opposed bail, he has contacts in the shipping industry from illegally exporting prohibited heritage items out of New Zealand. Let’s hope Rogue and Camille don’t find out about this until their honeymoon’s over. It could put a damper on it.”
He refolded the paper and handed her a card, saying, “Call me if you need any more information about the job, and I do hope you’re going to join us. Camille would be pleased.”
A few days after Sienna’s return to the dig with her students, the team unearthed a cache of carved Maori weapons that might date back as far as pre-European times, and she invited Aidan to visit and give his advice.
After agreeing with her assessment and helping secure the site, Aidan offered to treat the team to a drink in celebration, and at the conclusion of a couple of hours in a pub she found that her car wouldn’t start. “My own fault,” she admitted ruefully to the young
