ruin a heritage that belongs to us all. Priceless objects have been melted down for their metal. It’s criminal!”
Brodie was still regarding her, his gaze turning curious. “Not all treasure hunters are looters and vandals,” he told her. “And your colleagues can be so pigheaded that in the end no one benefits.”
“Pigheaded?” She flashed him a hostile look.
“What’s the point of barring salvors from exploring wrecks that are breaking up and being scattered all over the seabed? Or due to go under earthworks in harbors and be buried for all time?”
“I hope that wouldn’t happen.”
“It has happened. And that’s criminal, surely? Salvage is damned hard work.” Brodie let his chair drop back to the floor and leaned toward her, one strong forearm on the table. “Dangerous too, with far more disappointments than successes. Most of what divers recover goes to museums or private collections, where they’re cared for and available for people like you to study.”
“But treasure hunters’ primary concern is money,” Sienna objected. She gave him a challenging stare, her passion for the subject making her bold. The prickling sensations running up her arms must signal antipathy for his argument, she thought.
He looked at her almost pityingly. “It’s not a sin to be paid for what you do. And guys who dive for treasure aren’t in it just for the money. There’s a thrill in finding something precious that’s been under the sea for a hundred or even a thousand years. You’d know that.”
“Of course!” She knew how it felt to unearth a Victorian china cup or a pre-European carved Maori implement, and speculate who had owned it, who had crafted it, how they had lived so long ago, how and when they had died.
Granger regarded her thoughtfully across the table. “I know you have a secure position at the university, Sienna,” he said, “but I wonder if you would consider joining Pacific Treasure Salvors as our official archaeologist?”
Chapter 2
Sienna stared back at Granger. “Me?”
He didn’t smile. “Camille mentioned before you got ill that she’d like to have you on board. I was going to broach this to you tomorrow, but as the subject’s come up…”
Brodie glanced Granger’s way, and some kind of wordless exchange briefly passed between them. Sienna wondered if there was a reason Camille hadn’t done the asking earlier. Maybe the men had wanted to check her out.
Mollie’s eyes sparkled. “It sounds exciting. If I were you, dear, I’d jump at the chance. I’ve got a little investment in the company myself. For Barney’s sake.”
Mona looked as though she was about to roll her eyes.
Sienna was bemused. Of course she didn’t want to be any part of a treasure hunt. Did she? “I don’t think—”
Brodie interrupted. “You’d get to make sure things are done the way you think they should be.”
Granger added, “Camille said you’re experienced at scuba work.”
“I’ve done some,” Sienna admitted. She’d learned to dive as a teenager, so in her student days when an ancient Maori canoe was discovered buried in the silt of a tidal estuary, she’d been seconded by the professor in charge of the underwater excavation and had taken advanced courses to improve her skills. “But most of my wreck diving has been recreational.”
Granger 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