CHAPTER SIX
Rory slept all day and into the night. Bud refused to continue work and the entire camp came to a stand-still for nearly twenty-four hours. He and David kept checking on her, sprawled out on the bed like a rag-doll and sleeping so deeply that she was scarcely breathing. Once, David sat down at her desk to read through her transcribed notes and realized that throughout the entire two hours he was there, she never moved a muscle.
It was a deep sleep indicative of exhaustion and emotion. Supper came and went and still, Rory slept. At one point, Bud tried to rouse her simply to get her to eat something, but she ignored him irritably and pulled the pillow over her head. Patting her shoulder with an affectionate smile, he left her alone for the rest of the night.
It was a short night, however. Rory awoke promptly at three-thirty and after a luxuriously long shower, a definite no-no in the middle of the desert, she emerged into the early morning loaded with determination. Rousing Bud by tickling his ear and then bouncing on his bed until the frame collapsed, their laughter had been enough to wake David and half the camp.
At four-thirty in the morning she looked absolutely lovely; mascara and lipstick and Bud even smelled perfume. Pleased her groomed appearance matched her renewed frame of mind, he felt rather slovenly accompanying her to the dig. As David cranked up the gasoline generator, Rory beheld her knight with a far more rational attitude.
“So… you’re feeling better this morning?” Bud asked.
She cast him a sheepish glance. “Yeah. Sorry about my freak-out episode. I was really tired and I guess I just let everything get to me.”
He smiled faintly, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep. “Forget it. We’re all allowed a freak-out episode now and then.” Slowly, his smile faded. “Do you still think he knows where the crown is?”
She nodded, without hesitation. “Absolutely. I’m convinced of it.”
Bud observed her a moment longer before tearing his gaze away. He didn’t want her to see the doubt in his eyes. “Too bad we can’t ask him. Even if we could, I don’t think he’d tell us anything.”
“Ah, but we have ways of making him talk,” Rory said in her best pseudo-Nazi accent. “He’d never survive a round of torture with the evil and domineering Dr. Peck.”
Bud laughed and Rory returned his smile, glad all was well between them and he didn’t think she was bordering on insanity. But with everything that had happened over the past two days, there were times when she wondered herself. The more she lingered in the world of the knight and his journal, the more consumed she became.
Especially now, as she stood by the edge of the grave; what she wouldn’t give to ask him what he knew about her crown. But even if he knew the whereabouts, it was obvious the only answers she would receive were those she discovered herself. Lowering herself into the trench, she glanced at Bud. “Did you and Dave figure out how to remove him?”
Bud scratched his head and yawned. “Fortunate for us that Dave is a whiz in physics. He’s designed a fairly simply wench system that should remove him quite nicely. And I put some of the carpenters to work yesterday building a casket. It should be finished by this afternoon.”
Rory nodded with satisfaction, straddling the knight with her fists on her hips. After a moment, she crouched down, touching his face and feeling a resurgence of the warm feelings he seemed to provoke. “I… I dreamt about this guy last night. I mean, after everything I read in his journal, I feel like we’re on a first name basis.”
Bud cocked an eyebrow. “So you’re dreaming of him now? I’m sensing a good deal of infatuation, Rory.”
She grinned. “And why not? He was chivalrous and moral and kind.”
“And brave and clean and thrifty. An overgrown boy scout.”
“A boy scout with a broadsword as big as your leg.”
“Then it’s a good thing he’s dead and can’t hear my disrespect.”
Rory laughed softly. “Not to change the subject, but have we heard from Becker since his initial reply?
Bud sat down, swinging his legs into the trench. “No. But he’s had time to make the necessary boasts and contact the British Consul. We should be hearing from his soon. In fact, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he showed up here personally.” From the corner of his eye, he caught the appearance of the sleepy Dr. Peck as he prepared his work table for the day’s events. “Dave, did we get a reply from the American Embassy regarding our request for an x-ray machine?”
Yawning, David didn’t look up from his pens and files. “Not yet. I’ll call them again later today. Or I can try to locate one at a local hospital.”
Bud nodded faintly, gazing at the body a moment longer before looking to Rory. She was staring dreamily at the knight, her hand still on his face, and Bud realized he would have given twenty years of his life to see the same gentle expression on her face when she looked at him. He suddenly found himself jealous of a man who had been dead for eight hundred years.
His reaction startled him. It shouldn’t have, but it did nonetheless and he struggled to keep the quiver from his voice. “We should examine him completely before removing him from the grave.” He noted bitterness in his tone, wondering if she heard it.
Apparently, she hadn’t. She was still looking at the knight, oblivious to all else. “He’s so incredibly intact that I doubt anything will snap off during the extraction. What, exactly, did Dave devise?”
The camp cock crowed, announcing the commencement of a new day. As the horizon turned shades of pink, Bud found himself struggling against the most powerful surge of jealousy he had ever experienced.
“Basically, we’re going to slip him onto a backboard and lift him out with a wench,” he said as steadily as he could manage. “As soon as his current state is logged, we can give it a try.”
“Great.” Rory continued to stare at the knight. He really was a handsome fellow. Remembering how Sir Kieran mentioned that heathen women had clung to him like ‘leeches’, Rory found she could hardly blame them. He must have been a dazzling sight.
Knowing he had been forgotten, Bud climbed from the grave and headed toward camp. A casual glance over his shoulder showed Rory to be in the same position he had left her, hovering over the warrior as if she was incapable of focusing on anything else. Increasingly bitter, he turned away and descended the small hill.
If they had found her crown of thorns, at least she wouldn’t be mooning over the wreath like a love-sick teenager. It was crazy for him to be jealous of a man dead eight hundred years, he knew, but he simply couldn’t help it. Rory was his, or at least he intended to make her his when all of his gentle attention broke down her resistance. Until then, he had no intention of sharing her with anyone else. Period.
The Turkish dirt crunched softly beneath his boots as he made his way to the canvas shelters. He found himself hoping there would be a message from Becker on his fax machine, informing him that England threatened to go to war if the crusader wasn’t returned home. It would give Bud an excuse to get rid of the guy without making himself look like a villain.
Feeling like a fool for his irrational thoughts, Bud shifted gears and tried to focus on the excavation report that Becker was expecting. Hoping he could refrain from using words like ‘bastard’ and ‘home-wrecker’ when describing the knight in the grave.
*
The crusader emerged from his tomb beautifully. The carpenters had finished the box, a massive casket lined with cedar from Lebanon. Lowering the knight into the coffin had been tricky, but David and Bud had worked with precision to accomplish the task. As Rory stood by like a nervous mother, Sir Kieran Hage finally came to rest in his custom-made crypt.
It was past supper but no one seemed to care. A couple of journalists caught wind of the find through relatives working the site and had shown up to write an article for the local paper. Bud thrust Rory at them, staying out of the limelight as she used her broken Arabic to answer their questions.
Truthfully, there wasn’t any one better to handle public relations than Rory. With her beauty and poise, she naturally had the press eating out of her hand and Bud watched from a distance, pretending he was seeing to the final aspects of disengaging the wench when he was really focused on Rory. David finally pushed him away, far more efficient than his preoccupied colleague, to finish the task himself.
Bud hardly noticed he had been shoved aside. Removing his gloves, he tucked them into his back pocket and continued to watch as Rory dealt with the journalists. His jealousy fit had faded over the past several hours, leaving him feeling somewhat emotionally weak and foolish. But it threatened to surge again as he listened to Rory speak so dearly of her knight.
It didn’t take Bud long to realize he had asked her to handle the publicity to keep her away from the corpse. Christ, he felt like such an adolescent being jealous of an inanimate object. But he couldn’t help his feelings, not where they pertained to Rory, and in lieu of sending her away from the dig altogether he realized he had better deal with them.
And he would. Someday when he was strong enough. But for now, there was work to be done and daylight was fading. Stooping over Sir Kieran, he was in the process of inspecting the body for damage that might have occurred during the extraction when David suddenly nudged him. Glancing up, he noticed that his associate was pointing to Rory. Bud looked casually in her direction and what he saw sent him bolting.
The journalists were gone, replaced by a fair-haired man in a suit and two soldiers in fatigues. A Land Rover sat parked just outside of the camp perimeter and Bud cursed himself for not having been alert enough to see the vehicle coming up the road. Even as he and David rushed to Rory’s side, Bud knew who the men were. There simply wasn’t any other alternative.
Rory was playing the perfect hostess when Bud and David marched up. The man in the suit acted as if he hadn’t seen them, listening to Rory’s description of the site with a leering expression that made Bud’s blood boil.
“I’m Dr. Dietrich, senior archaeologist of the dig.” He practically thrust himself in front of Rory. “What can I do for you?”
The younger man with the receding blond hair tore his eyes away from Rory, smiling cordially. “I’m Justin Darlow, Senior Administrative Aide at the British Embassy in Tel Aviv. We received an amazing phone call from our embassy in the States informing us of your miraculous find.” He glanced at Rory. “Dr. Osgrove was very graciously explaining the particulars. Would it be possible to see the corpse?”
The veins in Bud’s temples were pulsing furiously. “If it’s all right with Dr. Osgrove, I suppose it’s all right with me.” It was difficult to keep his tone steady. “But just for a moment. I want to seal it up before nightfall.”
Darlow’s smile faded, sensing the man’s guarded manner. “Thank you,” he said, casting Bud a long glance. “I understand that you’ve also come across some valuable artifacts. Could I see them as well?”
Even though Bud had told the man he could view the corpse, it was apparent he wasn’t yet willing to show him. Crossing his arms in an unfriendly gesture, Bud realized in hind-sight that he had been willing to be affable when he realized the British had come to inspect the find. But the moment the young aide cast Rory an openly interested glance, all good-will flew out the window.
Rory sensed Bud’s foul mood, an odd circumstance coming from the usually-sunny man. She wondered if he was being cautious on her behalf, considering the conversation they had had regarding the validity of the British claim. As much as she didn’t want the British pushing their way onto her dig, the very last thing Bud needed was to punch out a foreign aide.
“I’d be happy to show you the artifacts,” she said, putting her hand on Bud’s shoulder to calm him. He was as tense as stone. Casting him a concerned glance, she tugged on his arm to get him moving. “But if you want to see the corpse, we’d better do it first. We’ve got to seal it before the moisture in the air grows heavy.”
Holding Bud tightly for fear he might do something rash, she directed the aide up the hill. Peck followed close behind, casting cool glances at the two marines. Darlow pretended to ignore the tension, brushing the dust off his Armani suit. By the time they reached the cedar box bearing Sir Kieran’s body, the atmosphere was crackling with stress.
Darlow looked closely at the knight. “Hmm. Rather well-preserved. When did he die?”
“1192 A.D.,” Rory said, her protectiveness surging as Darlow inspected Sir Kieran like a side of beef.
The aide was peering at the brown stains on the tunic and hose. “Remarkable,” he said. Even the British marines were looking over his shoulder, examining their military predecessor. “He’s bigger than any knight I’ve seen in our museums.”
“We’re guessing six feet five or six,” Rory said. “He weighs well over two hundred pounds now. We’ve estimated that during his prime he was close to two hundred and forty.”
Darlow nodded faintly, walking around the box to better study all angles. Pausing by Sir Kieran’s feet, he suddenly dug into his pocket and pulled out a small camera. Peck leapt into action before Rory or Bud could respond.
“No pictures,” he said firmly. “This is our find and all pictures will be printed and copyrighted through the university.”
Darlow looked somewhat surprised. “I… I apologize,” he said, tucking the camera away. “I didn’t mean any harm. It’s just that the knight’s family asked that I send a photograph. You know, for a keepsake and all that.”
“Family?” Rory suddenly felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. “What… what family?”
Darlow nodded his head in the direction of the corpse. “His family, of course. His descendents. Didn’t your university tell you that we had succeeded in locating them?”
David looked at Bud. Bud looked at Rory. Only Bud seemed capable of answering. “No, they didn’t.”
Rory’s breathing began to come in heavy gasps. Behind her, she could feel Bud’s hands on her arms for support. “You found his family?” she repeated, her voice a whisper. “How could you do that so quickly? We only notified the university of the find three days ago.”
Darlow smiled at her as if she was a moron. “Dr. Osgrove, we British consider lineage to be the very basis of our society. When your university supplied us with the knight’s name and area of birth, it wasn’t difficult to locate his descendents through records. The University of Sussex has a Genealogy department that was able to determine Sir Kieran’s living heirs within twelve hours of receiving the information.”
Had Bud not been holding her steady, Rory knew she would have collapsed. “Oh, God,” she gasped, turning away from the group. She simply had to. Darlow watched her walk away, noting her delicious figure far more than he should have with the hostile archaeologist standing within striking range.
“They’re anxious to have their ancestor returned, Dr. Osgrove,” he said, a sincere inflection in his tone. Knowing that, legally, the British had no claim to the man, but hoping the rightness of returning the knight to his family would weigh heavily on the situation. “He has a very large family, actually. The House of Hage is an extremely old Anglo-Saxon family said to have descended from the kings of Mercia. Naturally, they are thrilled you have found one of their ancestors and wish to have him returned to England for proper burial in the family crypt.”
The dagger Darlow had driven into her heart with the first mention of Sir Kieran’s family was being further twisted by his manipulative words. Rory’s hands were pressed against her mouth as if to stifle the scream that threatened.
“I don’t believe this,” she whispered. After a moment, hazel eyes fixed on Darlow’s face. “Is that why you’re here? To convince me to send Sir Kieran home to his family?”
Darlow shrugged. “Not really. I was merely sent to inspect the find. But if I had dug up your grandmother, wouldn’t you want her returned to you for a proper burial rather than displayed in a museum like a freak?”
“That’s enough,” Bud growled. “Get the hell off my dig or I’ll throw you off myself.”
The marines that had accompanied Darlow tensed, preparing for a fight. But the aide merely held up his hand, calming the already-strained situation before it grew out of control.
“I didn’t come here to offend, Dr. Dietrich, I assure you,” he said sincerely. “My interest is genuine. Sir Kieran’s family is very concerned what will become with him. They merely want him to rest in peace, not be open for scrutiny next to the dinosaur bones and Egyptian pottery of an American museum. He’s a man, for Heaven’s sake. Not a commercial object.”
“Don’t you dare to presume to tell me about this knight!” Rory exploded, the unprofessional tears falling. “I’ve spent the past two days reading his journal and I happen to know him far better than you, your damn government, or his haughty blue-blooded descendents. Don’t ever imagine that I’m unconcerned with what becomes of him!”
Bud had to grab her to prevent her from charging the aide. “Calm down, honey,” he whispered in her ear. “Everything will be fine, just calm down.”
Rory struggled against him, her shock of not a moment before transforming into anger so vicious she could hardly control it. The mere suggestion that she didn’t have Sir Kieran’s best interest at heart sent her erupting like a madwoman. She thought her concern stemmed from the fact that he seemed to be her only link to the elusive crown of thorns, but just as quickly she realized her emotions were rooted in something far deeper.
Bearing that in mind, she struggled to reclaim her control. “There is no one more concerned for the dignity and preservation of this knight that I am, Mr. Darlow.” Wiping hastily at her tears, she took a deep, cleansing breath. “You go back and tell your government that whatever becomes of him, whatever we decide what’s to become of him, that it will be entirely honorable. You’ll just have to trust us.”
Darlow wasn’t happy with her response. “And you don’t believe that returning him to his family would be of the utmost honor? He belongs to England’s history, Dr. Osgrove. And we should like to respect him as such.”
“He belongs to the world’s history, Mr. Darlow.” She was calming a little more now. Bud’s hands were still on her and she drew strength from him. “It wasn’t merely the English who went on the crusades, although they believed themselves to be the most important of the participants. There were French Knights, Teutonic Knights, not to mention the Spanish and Irish mercenaries. It was a world-wide affair; not just the arrogant English.”
Darlow drew in a deep breath; the meeting with the Americans was not going well at all. Rather than spend all night debating the facts with an emotional female, he decided it would be wise to retreat to the hotel and call the embassy for further instructions. The work at the site wasn’t finished yet and Darlow estimated it would be some time before the body was moved. Time enough to try again to convince the Americans that their find belonged to Britain.
After a small eternity locked in the glare of hazel eyes, Darlow looked to Bud and David. “I apologize if my actions have offended anyone. It’s just that this English knight, any English knight, means a good deal to my country. This is our heritage, something America can hardly claim.”
Rory let out a long sigh, an odd weakness encompassing her as her composure returned. “My family immigrated to America in the early nineteen twenties, Mr. Darlow. My mother’s parents were born in Hastings, so don’t patronize me with lectures of pure English blood. I could probably give you lessons on it.”
Darlow’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer before casting a final glance at the cedar-lined box. “He belongs with his family, Dr. Osgrove,” he said quietly, turning to leave. “Put yourself in their position. You would want your relative back, too.”
He strolled down the hill with his two guard-dogs in tow. Bud and David stared after him, but Rory refused to linger on the man once he was gone. Instead, she moved to the reinforced casket.
“Bastards,” she hissed, reaching out to finger Sir Kieran’s tunic. “I knew they’d come, I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Bud let out a long sigh, frazzled by the whole situation. “What I want to know is why in the hell Becker didn’t send word that they had found his relatives. He knew the British would make it to the dig site posthaste; he should have prepared us.”
David went to stand beside Rory, his gaze roving the corpse. “Maybe he didn’t think they’d come this quickly. Or maybe he’s already up to his eyeballs in diplomatic demands and hasn’t had the time.”
“With all of the assistants he employs, I can’t believe that one of them couldn’t have sent word if Becker was occupied.” Rory was touching Sir Kieran’s cheek and Bud had to look away; he couldn’t stand the adoring expression on her face. “So they want you to come home, my lord? I can’t say I blame them. If you could talk, somehow I think you’d want to go home too.”
Bud did look at her, then. “Rory?” he asked hesitantly. “Are you actually considering…?”
She shrugged faintly, taking a deep breath to ease her nerves. “We’ve talked about this before, Bud. And you were right, although I wasn’t going to give Mr. Embassy the satisfaction of knowing we’ve been considering his very proposal. But now, with a family involved… I really can’t believe that they’ve found them.”
Peck turned his back on the corpse, leaning against the casket and crossing his arms. “Believe it. And unless they get him back, I suspect the situation will never rest.”
Rory lay her cheek against the edge of the box, still toying with the neck of the knight’s tunic. The thought of turning him over was almost more than she could stand and for the second time that evening found herself fighting against tears. Her obsession with the knight was growing into something she didn’t recognize and had no desire to resist. Knowing that his fate, his chance for eternal peace, rested solely in her hands was a decision she would not take lightly.
“It just wouldn’t be fair to prop him up in a museum like some stuffed animal,” she murmured. “The more I come to know of this man, the more I can’t stand the thought of treating him like a prize. He doesn’t deserve to spend eternity being gawked at by curious visitors.”
David was watching her over his shoulder, knowing how hard this was for her. Her very first find destined to be taken away, never to be seen again. Bud had acted as if the decision was Rory’s to make; they all knew it was Bud’s final decision regardless of Rory’s feelings. But considering the Nahariya site had been her project, Bud had allowed her to make the final determination of Sir Kieran’s destination.
The crown of thorns was slipping through her fingers in more ways than one. Her only link was apparently bound for England, the journal and artifacts with it. Peck couldn’t imagine that she would have made any other decision; she knew that Bud was just being accommodating, too. And she wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of his kindness. No matter how painful the decision, there was really no other alternative.
The knight had to go home.
“He’ll be a lot happier resting in a marble crypt than a glass case,” David said softly.
Rory nodded, her eyes riveted to the corpse. “So will I.”
Standing behind her, Bud sighed faintly. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Tell Becker that Sir Kieran goes home to his family.”
Bud passed a long glance at David, his comrade’s face unusually impassive. “If you say so,” he said, moving beside the casket. “Would it matter if I told you I think you’re making the right decision?”
Rory smiled weakly. “It would matter,” she murmured, her expression suddenly taking on a dreamy countenance as if she was a million miles away. Bud noticed the change in features, wondering if she was going to start crying again and wishing he could say something to ease her ache. But the tears didn’t come.
“In his journal, Sir Kieran spoke about a number of incidents he had been involved in without a hint of arrogance,” she said, distracting herself from her turmoil by reliving the tales from the journal. “I mean, this guy was so humble it was unbelievable. Once, fifteen of his fellow knights had been captured by a Muslim general named Al-eb-Alil. This general buried the English knights in the sand up to their necks and threatened to decapitate them if the Christian armies’ most powerful warrior didn’t meet him in a personal battle. Sir Kieran rode to the task while the Christian commanders were still debating the crisis and killed the general himself.”
Bud glanced to the casket, his admiration for the knight somehow easing his jealousy. “And he saved the knights?”
Rory nodded faintly, her gaze riveted to the pallid face. “All of them. Instead of bragging over his victory, though, he finished the story with these final words; ‘Without danger there is no glory, and without glory there is no point in being a knight.’”
Bud watched her as she spoke, coming to realize why Rory was so infatuated with the man. She was acquainted with the stories in his journal, knowing him as Bud did not. Maybe if he read the stories, he would become infatuated too. Clearly, there was more to the corpse than a warrior believed to have once been in possession of the crown of thorns.
“What else did he do?” he asked softly. David settled in on the other side of Rory, waiting for another tale of honor and glory like an eager child.
Rory smiled, the horrors of the British aide forgotten for the moment. As if losing herself in Sir Kieran’s fame would help stave off the reality that would be upon them all too soon.
“Well…,” she looked thoughtful, glancing to the corpse seriously. “Please jump in if I fail to tell this correctly, my lord. I’m sure I can’t do it justice like you can.”
Bud and David grinned, Peck going so far as to elbow her in the ribs to force her to proceed. Rory rubbed her side, pinching David’s arm in retaliation.
“Quit annoying me or I won’t continue,” she told him sternly, then returned to a thoughtful expression. “As I was saying, Sir Kieran mentioned an adventure about a tavern in Joppa where several Frankish knights insulted King Richard. Well, it was just Sir Kieran and two other buddies against eight Frankish warriors and…”
“Dr. Bud!” Came a shout from the camp below. “Dr. Bud, come quick!”
The archaeologists looked to the source of the cry with concern, noting the Syrian foreman approaching. The black-haired man waved urgently when he saw their attention.
“Dr. Bud!” he called again. “Fax from America! Dr. Becker has sent you a message!”
Bud looked to Rory. Rory looked to Bud. David looked to both of them. The somber reality they had been so successful in forgetting for a few brief moments had suddenly returned with a vengeance. Finally, Bud waved his acknowledgement to the foreman.
“I’ll be right there!”
No one had to guess what the message contained.
*
Bud wasn’t surprised to find Rory seated beside the cedar-lined casket at dawn the next morning. Already, she had removed the lid, exposing Sir Kieran to the brilliance of a new Turkish day. Meandering up to the knight and his most fervent admirer, Bud shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiled weakly when Rory glanced up from the journal.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she answered. “I was just doing a little more studying. I won’t have this in my possession much longer and….”
Bud held up his hand, a silencing gesture. “You still don’t have to do this, Rory. I haven’t replied to Becker’s fax from last night and there’s still time to change your mind.”
“I thought you said I was making the right decision?”
“I believe you are. But I also don’t want you thinking that I forced you into making this choice.”
She sighed, drawing deep the early morning air. “I don’t think that. But you’re making it harder on me by acting as if I haven’t yet made a decision. I thought I made it last night, Bud, quite clearly.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment, his face lined with fatigue from a sleepless night. “You did,” he said quietly. “But I also knew you probably spent most of the night thinking about your choice and I didn’t want you to wake up this morning resenting me.”
She smiled weakly, shaking her head. “Resent you for what? For thinking of Sir Kieran’s best interests when I could only think with my emotions? You were right from the very beginning, before we even knew about his descendents or the political pressure involved. You knew exactly what was going to happen and you tried to prepare me.”
He smiled wryly, kicking at the dirt. “I tried. I don’t know what good it did in the long run, but I tried.”
“You did a good job. Had you not forewarned me, I might be in even worse emotional shape than I am now. Even if I act otherwise, I know deep down that Sir Kieran deserves to go home.”
Bud looked up from the hole he was digging with his heel. “We’ll go visit him in England, I promise.”
Rory’s smile faded. “I want more than that. I want to go to whatever service his family has for him. Will you see what you can do?”
“Sure,” he said. “Becker can arrange it. After all, it’s the least he can do, considering we’re making his job a whole lot easier by contributing to cordial international relations.”
Rory nodded in agreement. “Considering what his fax said, I guess he’s had a pretty rough time of it. Who would have thought that Sir Kieran’s family would have hired a lawyer to enact legal action if Sir Kieran wasn’t returned? No wonder Becker didn’t notify us immediately that the knight’s family had been located; he’s been dealing with more important issues. Like preventing a nasty lawsuit.”
Bud pursed his lips impatiently. “There’s nothing that hot-shot lawyer could have done. Even with British Government applying political pressure in support, he wouldn’t have had a true claim. There’s nothing he would have been able to do to dispute the law of international salvage and domain. Like the saying goes; finder’s keepers.”
“Maybe so. But in this case, the finder isn’t keeping.”
Rory’s smile faded completely as she looked once again to the volume in her lap. Bud continued to watch her, noting that her gorgeous hair was pulled away from her face, soft waves falling down her back. He was beginning to think that she was going to be all right with this when suddenly he saw a tear fall to her hand. Another quickly followed. Disheartened, he knelt swiftly beside her chair.
“Oh, Christ,” he murmured, clasping her fingers with one hand and wiping at her tears with the other. “Please don’t cry, honey. I told you, you don’t have to turn him over. If you want him to return to the university, then he’s as good as there. I swear it.”
She shook her head. “No, Bud, I’ve made my decision. Besides, there isn’t any other choice.”
“Yes, there is. If you don’t want to send him home, then we won’t. End of discussion.”
She snorted softly. “It’s not like I’ve found a stray dog. Sir Kieran isn’t a possession; he’s a man, just like Darlow said. What right do I have to lay claim to him over his family? Even though my mind wants to put him on display in the university’s museum to announce to the world that I didn’t fail at my Nahariya dig, my heart knows that he should go home. And the truth hurts.”
Bud squeezed her hands sympathetically. “Honey, don’t let Darlow influence you with his guilt-trip and diplomatic bull. And as for failing at Nahariya, I don’t ever think I’ve seen a more successful venture. The university will be talking about this for years to come and I’d wager to say that you’ll have carte blanche with any future dig you want to pursue.”
She looked at him, a weak smile on her lips. “What if I want to continue looking for my crown?”
He met her smile. “They’ll let you. Becker may grumble about it, but they’ll let you.”
She laughed softly, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Bud. You’ll always be my greatest supporter.”
His smile faded, a fire suddenly igniting in the ice-blue eyes. “More than you know, Rory. I’ll always be there for you.”
She caught sight of the flame, his expression tender and passionate at the same time. Sensing that somehow the focus between them had changed dramatically, Rory struggled to acclimate herself to the shift of mood when his lips were suddenly on her, warm and insistent and gentle. Momentarily stunned, she was compelled to react when he let go of her fingers long enough to tenderly cup her face.
Jolted with surprise, she pulled away sharply and stumbled from her chair. Bud was still on his knees, his ice-blue orbs filled with the pain of a love unreturned.
“I… I’m sorry, Rory,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have, but… Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She took a deep breath, struggling to make sense of the event. Not strangely, she wasn’t the least bit repulsed nor had she been frightened. Bud was a warm, wonderful man and she liked him a great deal. And over the past three days, they had become extremely close. Still, she wasn’t ready for his amorous attentions.
“It’s ok, really,” she said, trying not to appear unnerved. “I… I suppose I should cover Sir Kieran back up and return to camp. There’s a lot to do before….”
“Rory.” Bud rose to his feet, his expression beseeching. “Please don’t run off. Like I said, I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met.”
She was having difficulty looking him in the eye. Good Lord, she just didn’t know what she was feeling; she’d never looked at Bud as a love interest, but the past few days had seen a odd change in opinion. It wasn’t as if she was ready to jump into bed with him; still, she couldn’t outright shun him. Maybe he was exactly what she needed only she had been too distracted or blind to notice.
Truthfully, she simply didn’t know. And she was almost angry at him for throwing yet another wrench into an already-chaotic situation.
“I….” She emitted a blustery sigh, forcing herself to meet Bud’s gaze. He looked so uncertain that she found herself wanting to put him at ease. “Wow, Bud. I just don’t know what to say.”
He seemed to relax a little, letting out a weak chuckle. “Don’t say anything. I should have never… it wasn’t like I planned it. It just happened.”
She nodded. “I realize that. We’re both kind of caught up in this and I’ve been pretty emotional lately. Maybe you thought kissing me would shut me up.”
He shook his head, his hands finding their way back into his pockets. “Not at all. I just don’t like seeing you unhappy. Maybe I hoped I could give you a little comfort.” He took a deep breath, looking uncomfortable and determined all at the same time. “Look, I know this isn’t the time for this, but I’ve already made an ass out of myself and I might as well go all the way. You see, Dr. Osgrove, I’m in love with you. The past fourteen months has been the greatest year of my life and even if we walk off this dig tomorrow and never see each other again, I’ll still remember it with the fondest of memories because it will always remind me of you.” He took another deep breath and shrugged faintly, like the weight of the world had finally been lifted from his shoulders. “There. Now I’ve said it.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Rory speechless. She watched him disappear into the camp, her stunned gaze staring at the canvas tents as if she could hardly believe what she had heard. True, she had always known his feelings, but for Bud to admit them was something she thought she would never hear. The sad part was, she couldn’t reciprocate his sentiment. Although she wouldn’t have hurt him for the world, at the moment, she simply couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.
Hand to her mouth in a dazed gesture, Rory found herself turning aimlessly for the knight’s casket. The rising sun was bathing the corpse in a soft golden light, giving the cold skin color as if attempting to convince the world of his life. Thoughts lingering on Bud, Rory suddenly realized she was still clutching the journal. Throughout the exchange, she’d never put it down.
And she still didn’t put it down, even as she reclaimed her chair and stared absently over the camp. Her search for the crown was a failure, Sir Kieran was going home to England, and Bud had declared his undying love. If Rory had known what she was getting herself into two years ago when she first began the petition for this project, she would have gladly thrown it all away. Bud’s pain of a one-sided love and her pain of losing her knight as well as the crown just wasn’t worth the trouble.
Maybe none of this was.