He looked at the plump American girl embracing her young man, and they were as foreign to him as fifth-century Celts.
Elizabeth understood that her time alone with Cameron would have to wait until he chatted with all the other diggers, received lists of supplies they needed and items they wanted sent back to the mainland, and until he had a general visit with Denny and Marchand, probably over lunch. She had resigned herself to this delay, resolving not to compete for his attention like a neglected child, and not to brood on questions like whether or not he had missed her. In order not to seem impatient for this general socializing to end, she paid considerably more attention to her potted meat sandwich than it merited.
She sat down on a rock very close to Cameron, thinking that she could at least allow herself to be this proprietary. He smiled at her, and then turned back to his conversation with Denny, who was just telling him about the Banrigh seal.
"I saw it, too!" Elizabeth cried, forgetting her resolution about Cameron's attention.
"Then I suppose I can believe you, Denny," Cameron said solemnly. "One of our seals frequents your island. I'll see if I can figure out which one he is when I get back."
Owen appeared just then, red faced and panting. "We've been getting the boat out, Callum and I, but I wanted to see you before I left. Might as well eat, too," he added. "My provisions are already packed up."
"Owen will be staying a couple of nights on the small island to study the menhir there," Elizabeth explained.
Owen did not look pleased at the prospect. "It's awfully gloomy today," he said, frowning up at the sky. "Did you run into rain?"
"No," said Cameron. "But there may be some later on. You'll want to set off soon. It's not dead calm as it is."
Owen looked as if he would like to say something else on the subject, but instead he asked, "Have they found the Edinburgh killer yet?"
"I don't think so," Cameron replied. "It hasn't been mentioned on any news broadcasts."
Owen looked pleased. He turned away and began to make himself a sandwich without even so much as a thank-you. "Owen," Denny said, "just how much boating experience have you had anyway?"
"None," Owen said, smearing meat paste on a wedge of bread.
Callum Farthing looked up. "None?"
Owen flushed. "Well, it isn't far! Three-quarters of a mile at the most."
"It will seem far if a storm comes in," said Denny. "Then how will you get back?"
Callum sighed and stood up. "I suppose I'd better take him over.''
"But I'll be stranded!" Owen cried. "What if I run out of food or something?"
Denny smirked. "You're taking your bagpipes, aren't you,
"I was planning on playing while I was over there," said Owen. "How will you know which is which?"
Callum shrugged. "Can you play taps? You wouldn't be likely to practice that tune, would you? Play that when you want to be brought back."
"Okay," Owen mumbled. "I guess it's better than getting swept away in that dinky boat.'' Another thought struck him. "Are you sure you'll be able to hear me from here?"
Denny sighed. "I'm afraid so, Owen."
Callum and Owen said their goodbyes to the group and headed for the beach where they had left the boat. For the rest of lunch Marchand explained what they had been doing on the dig, and he and Leath discussed the various things that needed to be sent back to the mainland: Callum's film, Alasdair's soil samples.
"Talking of Alasdair, where is he?" asked Denny. "Didn't you say he left a note saying he needed to see Cameron?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. He left it quite early. Before he went to look for his Tarans." She made a face.
"His what?" asked Cameron.
Elizabeth shook her head. "Cultural illiteracy strikes again."
"They're burial grounds up on cliffs," Denny told him. "Nothing you'd have come across in Auld Reekie."
Gitte, who had said almost nothing since Cameron's arrival, looked worried. "Has no one seen him today?"
"I'm sure he's fine," Denny said automatically, but he looked at Cameron as he said it, and his eyes were grave.
Cameron stood up. "Perhaps we ought to go and hunt him up," he said with careful heartiness. "I'm sure he just lost track of the time, but we'd better find him if he wants a word with me before I leave. Let's spread out, shall we? Elizabeth, want to come with me?"
Elizabeth realized at once that this was to be their time together, and while she would have preferred another way to spend it, she could hardly say so, with everyone so concerned about Alasdair—but pretending not to be. They started off together up the path that led through the hills and, eventually, back to where Cameron had left his boat. The others had started out in different directions along the cliffs to search the edges of the island.
Elizabeth looked out at the peat bogs, now a dull green in the gray light of an overcast sky. The black speckled rocks dotted the field like birds' eggs. What color had Alasdair been wearing? Would he be easy to spot? Should they call out to him?
"I cut my finger," she said, in consequence of nothing.
After a moment's pause, Cameron replied, "I'm sorry. Is it painful?"
"A little," Elizabeth said, glad she could say that it was. ' T keep the bandage changed, and Denny has given me some of his antibiotics—just in case."
"You shouldn't..." Take other people's medicine, Cameron was going to say, but he realized that she might take this as a lack of concern for her. There might have been a small chance of infection, after all, so what did it matter if she took a few pills. "You shouldn't try to use it too much," he finished.
She nodded. "I'll be careful. I always wash my hands after I've been working.''
"I brought you a few things," he said, fishing a package out of the pocket of his anorak. "Chocolate bars and some cocoa. You look as if you need a treat."
The spark in Elizabeth's eyes made him realize that this had been an unwise thing to say, but he thought that a manufactured excuse might make things worse, so he said nothing.
"Thank you," she said at last. "I promise to share them round."
"Have you missed me?"
Elizabeth was grateful that he had posed the question before she burst out with it. "I expect I have," she replied. "It's hard to say, really. Things are so primitive here, and practically everyone is so difficult, that I can't tell if I miss you desperately, or if I'd just be glad to see anybody who isn't on this dig!"
"We'll hope it's more than that," said Cameron.
"Well, I wouldn't want you getting too conceited."
Cameron looked at the rocks on one side of the path, and at the sheer drop on the other. "Why did Alasdair go looking for this Taran place?"
"Chiefly to taunt Owen, I think," Elizabeth said. "He's a great one for solitude, is Alasdair—always going off by himself anyway. Having spent a week with Gitte, I can't say that I blame him. And he has been teasing Owen about his morbid tastes in crime and about his image of archaeology as a child's treasure hunt. I think he wanted to drive Owen mad with envy by suggesting that he had made a discovery concerning one or both.''
"Suppose he has?"
"I don't think so," said Elizabeth. "I don't think he'd want to give Owen the satisfaction of being proved right. It would almost be like Alasdair to cover up anything interesting, just for spite."
Cameron considered this. "I suppose the Crown would get anything they found anyway. Isn't that how it works?"