Layne huffed out a breath. She’d been looking after herself a very, very long time. She wasn’t used to anyone tending her wounds but herself. She felt the stroke of callused fingers on the skin of her belly and her breath rushed out.
“Scratch. Must have hit a rock.” Declan was looking down, completely focused on her injury.
Layne blinked, pushing back the strange and unwanted warmth running through her. “It’s nothing.”
“Here.” He pulled something from one of the million pockets on his cargo trousers. Then he pressed it to the scratch.
She blinked. It was a pink bandage with cartoon princesses on it. A reluctant laugh broke from her. “Why do you have kiddie bandages in your pocket?”
He grinned. “I get them for my guys. Logan hates them.”
She shook her head and for a second, tried to imagine the intense and slightly scary Logan O’Connor wearing a pink bandage. She couldn’t do it.
Her gaze settled back on Declan’s dark head. She was amazed they weren’t arguing. Since they’d reached the dig, he’d been busy trying to boss her around—security this and security that. Most of the things she’d agreed with—like the emergency backpacks everyone now had stowed in their tents. They contained rations, water and gear for surviving the desert. But some of the rules got in the way of them doing their job. No one was allowed to work alone, and no night digging. She wrinkled her nose. It was really going to slow down their progress.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. She shifted her gaze away from him, and that was when she saw it.
A huge, gaping hole in the side wall.
“Oh, my God.” She hurried over and heard Declan mutter under his breath.
He grabbed her arm. “Where the hell are—”
“Declan, look.”
He spotted the hole and stilled. “The scaffold must have knocked through the wall.” He touched his ear. “Logan, Rush and I are taking a look around. Be up shortly.”
“Come on.” She patted her belt. “Dammit, I don’t have my flashlight.”
A bright beam of light clicked on. She eyed the large, rugged flashlight Declan held. It was nothing like her small, serviceable one.
Together, they approached the opening.
“Stay near me,” he said. “I need to assess the stability—”
“I’ve done this a time or two, Ward.”
She thought she heard him making a growling sound. “Just stay back and listen to me.”
“How about I stay right beside you and we listen to each other?”
“You don’t mind saying exactly what you think, do you, Rush?”
“Life’s too short to beat around the bush.”
Now she thought she heard him mutter something about stubborn mules and smart women. She grinned to herself.
As they neared the ragged hole, her heartbeat picked up. This was one of those moments that made all the long monotony of brushing away sand and dirt, of cataloguing every tiny shard of pottery, and spending hours soaking and cleaning artifacts worthwhile.
These once-in-a-lifetime moments were the ones she’d dreamed about as a little girl. Layne stopped and waited while Declan shone the flashlight around inside.
“Holy hell,” he muttered.
Layne swallowed her giddy excitement.
It was another room and it was richly decorated with art. Declan’s light illuminated the barely faded reds, golds, and blues.
“It’s the main burial chamber,” she whispered. “I knew it was here.”
The walls went dark as the light moved and she realized he was studying the roof.
“Looks sturdy,” he said.
“Good.” She slipped in before he could stop her.
“Dammit, Rush.”
“It looks New Kingdom, maybe Third Intermediate Period.” She saw an image of everyday life, women in flowing white gowns, one breast exposed. A beautiful temple by the banks of an oasis. A man in the typical rigid pose, one foot forward and holding a jar. “This is really high quality. Whoever is buried here was someone important.”
“This really gets you going, huh?”
She turned and saw Declan studying her like she was a strange specimen under a microscope.
“Come on, you’re telling me none of this excites you? She held her hands out. “Standing in a place no living soul has been in for thousands of years? A chance to uncover a fascinating piece of history?”
He raised one brow. “Maybe a little. Watching you do it is pretty exciting.”
Her heart tripped. If he hadn’t said it so matter-of-factly, she would have accused him of flirting. Not that she guessed Declan Ward ever flirted. Hell, the man didn’t need to, not when he exuded that sexy, dangerous aura that would draw women like bees to honey.