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“Could you see anything inside it?” he asked.
She shook her head, “No, but the light didn’t reach very far.”
He set the lamp down and shuttered it once more, frowning down at the stones he could see on either side of the hole. The one they had removed had been sitting on top of two others, plugging a gap.
“Em, I think we need to find the entrance. If we try to come in through the top as we would with an earth-filled barrow, we will likely make the whole thing collapse.”
“I agree. How will we find it?” she said, trying to contain her excitement.
“Digging around the perimeter until we find it.” He stood. “Em, can you sift through the pile of disturbed dirt to check for anything of interest and move it off the mound as you go? I’ll start digging for the entrance to the barrow.”
She nodded and set to work with buckets, trowel, and sieve. “Who do you think could have dug into the mound?”
Deo stuck his spade into the soft topsoil on the western side and shoveled a load aside, adding to the pile she was working on. “I don’t know. Someone who thought there might be something to find, obviously.” He shoveled another load. “I wonder if there are any local legends kicking about that would send someone on a treasure hunt? But why last night? Unless they have just got wind of what we are doing here.”
Em glanced up at him and tried not to stare. He was only wearing breeches and a shirt today, anticipating that he would be digging, and the sight of his shirt open at the neck and the play of his muscles beneath as he worked was creating havoc within her body. His brief kiss this morning had done nothing to relieve her condition, and she was an aching ball of longing. She dragged her eyes away from him and tried to concentrate on her sieving. But she was conscious of every move, every heave of muscle, grunt, and expelled breath.
Biting her lip, she kept sieving, her fingers running through the dirt, looking for sherds of pottery, coins, anything really that indicated human occupation. She had done four bucket loads and was on the fifth when she came across her first find.
“Oh, Deo. It’s a coin!” she said, rubbing the dirt off, trying to figure out what denomination it was. She dunked it in the bowl of water she had and washed it clean, holding it out in her palm for him to see.
He stuck his shovel in the dirt upright and wiped his face with his handkerchief, then picked up the coin in his large, blunt fingers. He squinted at it. “A Queen Anne shilling, not of much value, but proof that it is worth continuing to screen through the debris. You never know what we will find.” He smiled down at her, and she grinned back, her heart swelling with warmth. This is what she had dreamed of, working on a dig with someone who shared her passion for it. The fact that he was gorgeous and her husband to boot meant that all her dreams were coming true at once. If only I can get him to kiss me again . . .
He paused to take a drink from a flask of water and passed it to her. They were fortunately standing in shade for the moment, but even so he was sweating with the effort of moving all that earth. She went back to sieving.
He removed several square feet of topsoil down to the barrow rock and stopped to review. “This doesn’t look like the entrance,” he said, propping a hand on his upright shovel and squinting up at the sun, which had come out from behind a cloud. “But it isn’t necessarily built on a perfect east-west axis, so we will need to dig in an arc on this side to determine where the entrance is.”
She got up and came over to him, looking down into the area he had uncovered.
“I think you’re right,” she said, pointing to the overlapping layers of rock. “That looks like the base of a domed wall.”
“We definitely seem to have some kind of structure here. What do you think?”
She nodded, “I agree, it looks like a stone-built cairn, and there should be an entrance to the chamber. There are several examples that I have read about that were uncovered in East Anglia with what are believed to be Anglo-Saxon burials inside ancient stone tombs. What if it is one of those? From the period after their conversion to Christianity? The cross certainly indicates a Christian influence.”
“Celtic Christian rather than Roman Catholic. Bede references the struggle for power between the two factions.” He frowned in an effort of memory. “I think that all came to a head in the reign of King Oswy of Northumbria. If that is the case, given its location, shouldn’t this burial predate Oswy? Eighth century?”
“Seventh century, early to mid-600s was his floruit.” She grinned. “This is so exciting!”
“It is.” He caught her hand. “All the more so for sharing it.”
She reached up on tip toe to kiss his chin which was all she could reach. “Thank you.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.” His voice had dropped to a husky note that made her heart race. In the next instant his arms came around her, almost lifting her off her feet, and he kissed her full on the lips.
Her heart thudded and heat flooded her body as she wrapped her arms round his neck and kissed him back. Held securely in his arms, his great chest pressed close and the scent of his maleness made her dizzy and glad of the support of his strong frame to cling to. His mouth explored hers with increasing boldness, and she responded, parting her lips and pressing closer against him, quite forgetting they were standing in the middle of a field in broad daylight where anyone might see them.
He broke the kiss all too soon for her, setting her gently away from him. She was reminded of him pushing her away last night. She gazed up at him, dazed. He cleared his throat, his color high, and said gruffly, “I’ll help you with the sieving and start clearing the rest of the base of the mound after lunch. And tonight, we can take a look at the inscription.”
She looked away and nodded, swallowing the irrational lump in her throat. Her body was a battleground of desire and need. She wanted to fling herself back into his arms and seek the comfort only his kisses and caresses could offer. But she could see that he was trying to do the right thing. If they continued kissing like that out here—well, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
He caught her hand and kissed her dusty fingers, seeming oblivious to the dirt on them. “Later, Em, hm?”
She nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, please, Deo.”
“Emily Frances, you are killing me,” he said, agonized.
“It’s mutual,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest. His shirt was slightly damp with sweat and his skin felt hot through the fabric.
