“The simple answer is that I find old ruins fascinating.” He paused thoughtfully. “The fascination comes from curiosity about the past. Who lived here, and what were their lives like? Were they people we would recognize as kin, or were they so different in language and thought and appearance that they would seem utterly alien? For that matter, have there been several different peoples who lived here in different ages? Very likely, but we’ll never know unless we study what they’ve left behind.”
“You would make an excellent university lecturer,” she said admiringly. “You’re arousing my interest in learning more. Thorsay has any number of ruins and standing stones and towers scattered over all the islands, yet I’ve never thought much about them. But these stones have countless tales to tell, don’t they?”
He grinned. “I’ll make an antiquarian out of you yet.”
“Perhaps,” she said, returning his smile. Then she made her way across the wet, springy turf to a stone perch that would give her a good view of the overall site.
She began sketching in pencil. Later she could finalize the drawing in ink, but pencil was quicker and easier to correct. As she sketched the visible stones, she found herself thinking about the people who had lived here. What had their world been like? Surely there had been families, loving couples and mischievous children. What did they wear? Warm clothing this far north. Surely they had sheep and could make woolen fabrics? She was beginning to understand Ramsay’s fascination with the past.
After she finished the overview sketch, she moved to a good view of the ruined tower, which was the most interesting single structure and would make a good close-up. No windows were visible in the lower section of the tower—all that remained—perhaps to keep attackers from gaining easy access.
She was almost finished with the sketch when Ramsay called, “Signy? I have something interesting to show you.”
She packed her materials into the pouch and followed his voice. His head was barely visible just beyond the farthest edge of the structure.
When she reached the low irregular wall, she saw that he was standing in a kind of pit and digging enthusiastically at the opposite wall. “What have you found?” she asked. “Buried treasure?”
He laughed. “Antiquarian treasure. This is a midden.”
“A trash heap?” she said doubtfully. “What makes it interesting?”
“It shows how people lived. What they ate, what they used, what they threw away. Treasure indeed. Come down for a look.” He extended his hand up to her.
She stepped over the low wall and reached for his hand, but the grass at the edge of the pit was wet and slippery from the earlier rain. Before she could catch his hand, she slid on the wet grass and went tumbling down on top of him.
He fell backward and she fell with him, landing on top in a tangle of limbs, with her face only a few inches from his. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, all too aware of the warmth and strength of his lean body under hers. “Have I hurt you?”
She tried to scramble off him, but his right arm went around her waist, and he held her there as close as a lover’s embrace.
His gaze caught hers, the gray depths intense, locking them both into this intimate moment. “As I said, middens can contain unexpected treasure,” he said huskily. Then he pulled her down into a kiss.
Chapter 14
After her first moment of surprise, Signy found Ramsay’s kiss a swift, spontaneous pleasure. When he’d kissed her before, it had been a sweet embrace of discovery. Lying along his warm, strong frame stirred her blood in shocking new ways.
She wriggled against him to a more comfortable position. He sucked in his breath, and his hands skimmed down her body, smoothing her back and shaping the curve of her waist before coming to rest on her hips, drawing them tight against him. Her lower body began pulsing against him, wanting more. Wanting . . . what?
Shocked at her own reactions, she pushed herself away from him and scrambled back so that she was sitting pressed against the end of the pit. For the first time she really understood how Gisela had thrown good sense to the winds and lain with Ramsay, with catastrophic consequences. Gisela had loved him, and Ramsay had loved her back.
Voice unsteady, she said, “Didn’t we decide this was a bad idea?”
He closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath before opening them and moving away from her until his back was pressed against the other end of the pit, which put him about six feet away. “Yes, but I’m having trouble remembering why,” he said, his face taut.
“Because it’s too soon. Too many complicating factors.” She drew an unsteady breath. “Too much doubt on my side.”
“Those are all good reasons,” he said quietly. “Time will help us sort them out.”
“Is there anus? I thought we were you and me, separately.” Though she had an uneasy feeling that maybe they were becoming anus. She brushed back her loosened hair and tried to lighten the atmosphere. “And really, Kai, a midden? Is this the seduction place of choice for sophisticated men of the world?”
He gave a choke of laughter, and his expression eased. “It does lacksavoir faire,” he agreed. “But what’s a man to do when assaulted by a goddess?”
She snorted. “Flattery does not a goddess make. A better topic would be whatever interesting thing you called me over to see.”
“Yes! I temporarily forgot.” His expression became focused, and he leaned over to retrieve a fragment of pottery near his right knee. After brushing off some loose earth, he handed it to her. “Look.”
She turned the fragment over in her hands as she studied it. About six inches across, it appeared to be one third of a shallow bowl. The color was the soft tan of natural clay, and the surface was hard and smooth, though she didn’t think it was glazed. The rim of the bowl was patterned with sets of grooved lines that crisscrossed first to the left, then to the right. “Why is this special?”
“It’s very old,” he replied.
