But beyond purpose, beyond reason, the fire burned.

“Oh, hell.”

He eased back at Riley’s voice, but kept his eyes on Sasha’s as Riley wandered in, Apollo happily at her heels.

“I figured you’d circle around that for at least another day or two.” She went straight to the coffee, grabbed a mug. “If you want privacy, try one of the bedrooms.” She poured her coffee, all but inhaled the first sip. “I’ll take the dog—the care and feeding thereof. And I nominate the new girl for chicken duty. Beginning after coffee. When’s breakfast?”

“Shortly.” Bran ran his hands down from Sasha’s shoulders, along her arms, then stepped back to the stove to put the pan he’d had the wit to take off the flame back again.

“Good. Starved.”

“I . . . need a watering can.”

Sasha turned quickly, aimed for the doors.

Riley shook her head at Bran, then a long glance at the dog sent Apollo trotting outside. “Office romances, Irish, sticky business and usually get somebody fired.”

“Lucky then, isn’t it, we’re not being paid.” He gave the potatoes a turn.

Sasha doubted the morning air would cool her skin, her blood, but she needed a moment just to stand in it, try to settle.

What should she do now? How did she behave now? He’d changed everything. Or no, she admitted, he’d pushed it along the path.

She looked over at the promontory, thought of the storm.

Apollo brushed up to her, nuzzled his great head under her hand. After her absent stroke, he raced off.

She needed to focus, Sasha warned herself. To concentrate on what needed to be done, not what she wished could be. Others depended on her keeping her balance, so—

She glanced over at the sound of laughter, watched Annika run in circles with the dog. She twirled, executing three very impressive cartwheels that had the dog letting out deep, joyful barks.

Sasha couldn’t stop the smile, and couldn’t stop the wish she could be just that free, just that carelessly happy she’d turn cartwheels on soft spring grass.

With a sigh, she turned toward the table. Stopped dead.

The plates fashioned a tower—four balanced on their rims holding the fifth, with a glass filled with wildflowers atop it.

She’d balanced the flatware as well, crossing pieces like swords to form a kind of arbor, and under it grass, clover, buttercups twined together. A shrubbery, Sasha realized, fascinated and charmed.

She’d draped napkins around the tall salt and pepper mills, like capes, and formed more grass into crowns to top them. Other napkins flowed out—bright blue. The sea, Sasha thought.

Glowing from her game with Apollo, Annika ran back.

“I set the table.”

“I see. It’s wonderful. A castle by the sea.”

“The rulers are giants,” Annika began. “Sawyer!” There was a joy—like cartwheels—in the single word.

“Yeah, morning.” He came out barefoot, gulping coffee, then studied the table presentation. “Wow.”

“Do you like it?”

“Very cool.”

“Breakfast’s up,” Riley announced, carrying out a platter loaded with bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast. She set it down, studied Annika’s work.

“Nice.”

Bran followed her out with the pitcher of juice, a pot of coffee. They all stood, studying the castle.

“Is it wrong?” Annika asked.

“Not at all,” Bran told her. “In fact it’s lovely and fun. We’re all wishing we didn’t have to take it down so we can eat.”

“Oh, I can make another. The food smells good.”

“Okay.” Riley rubbed her hands together. “Let’s sack the castle.”

Once they’d set the table in a more mundane fashion and passed around the platter, Riley turned to the dog, who sat, watching hopefully.

“That’s yours,” she told him, pointing to the bowl of kibble she’d set out. He heaved a sigh filled with disappointment, but moved off to eat. “So, we’ll look over the maps, but my best sense is to head south, follow the river into the hills. My intel says there’s a cave up there, multichambered, largely unexplored. The locals call it Anasa tou Diavolou. The Devil’s Breath. Sounds promising,” she added, forking up some eggs.

“What about underwater caves?” Sasha began, and Riley nodded as she ate.

“Got some on my list. But we’re going to need a boat, some gear. I’m working on that. Anybody know how to handle a boat? I’m okay with it, but I’m better with a canoe or a kayak.”

“Depends on the boat,” Sawyer put in.

“What sort of gear?” Sasha wanted to know.

“Snorkeling for certain, scuba most likely.”

“I’ve never done any scuba diving.”

“We’ve got a pool to practice in if we need to. I’m certified—or was. Probably still am.” Riley shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky on land. In any case, we’ll eliminate areas, and get some scuba practice in.” She gestured at Annika with her fork. “That dress isn’t going to work for the sort of hiking we’ll do today.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Looks good on you, but you need pants. Jeans or cargoes to protect your legs. A jacket, a hat, a backpack. And hiking boots.”

“I don’t have those things.”

“I was afraid of that.” Riley looked under the table at Annika’s bare feet. “I’ve got spare boots, but your feet are longer than mine.”

“Looks like a trip into the village to outfit her,” Sawyer said. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Been on many shopping trips with women, mate?” Bran asked him.

“Shopping.” Annika bounced in her chair. “You buy things. I have coins.”

“No trouble understanding how shopping works,” Bran added. “Coins?”

“I have many coins. I’ll get them.”

When she raced off, Riley turned, jabbed her fork toward Bran. “You’ll eat that insult to my species, Irish. I can get her outfitted inside twenty minutes.”

“Bet you a fiver you can’t.”

“Done. So into the village, deal with that. We can drive south from there for the first ten, twelve kilometers, but we’re off-road after that.”

“I’d like a look at your maps, if it’s all the same to you, before we head out.”

Sawyer nodded at Bran, then Riley. “I’m going to second that.”

“No problem. Nothing to say on this, Sasha?”

“I’m still stuck on Devil’s Breath. Anyway, I can read a map well enough, but I’m pretty sure one cave will strike me the same as any other.”

Annika came back, hauling a royal-blue drawstring bag with gold braiding. She set it on the table with a little oof, where it thudded heavily.

“My coins.”

“She meant it literally.” On a laugh, Sawyer got up to walk to the end of the table, look into the bag. “Yobanny v rot!”

“What are those words?” Annika demanded.

“It’s Russian.” Riley got up herself to circle around, looked into the bag. “And to borrow a phrase. Yobanny v rot. Mind?” she said to Annika, and without waiting for an answer, tipped the bag onto the table so part of the contents poured out.

Gold coins and silver, copper and bronze. Many, even with her untrained eye, Sasha recognized as old. Possibly ancient.

“We have here a lot of euros,” Riley began, “your pounds, punts, lire, drachma, yen, ducats, francs—Swiss and French—U.S. and Canadian coins, halfpennies, and yo-ho-ho, me hearties, your pieces of eight.”

“Pirate coins?” The notion had Sasha getting up for a closer look. “Like this?”

“Yeah, a reasonable shitload of them, from what I see. They’d be worth about a hundred bucks each.”

“Each.” Sasha turned the oddly shaped coin in her hand.

“Each, if they’re in decent condition and the inscription’s legible, like the one you’re holding. And this?”

Riley did a butt wiggle. “This is a Carlos and Johanna. Gold doubloon, stamped 1521. A collector would pay a grand easy for this.”

She poked through more as Annika stood back smiling in delight.

“Hell of a collection here,” Riley muttered. “And you shouldn’t keep it in a sack like this. Christ, this is a silver tetradrachm, circa 420 BC, probably worth a few thousand easy. And . . . Gamoto. Greek for holy shit.” She held up a gold coin. “Do you have a clue what this is?” she demanded of Annika.