Rowan turned, her eyes widening as she took in the African-American man bearing down on them, his white lab coat flaring out behind his powerful body.
Wow. His dark hair was cut super short, his face was too rugged for handsome, and he had a sexy goatee. The man had a presence.
“Dr. Ty Sampson, Dr. Rowan Schafer,” Lachlan said. “And we’re fine, thanks for asking. Survived the mission with only minor injuries.”
Ty grunted. “You’re all walking, so I didn’t bother asking.”
“Hello, and welcome to our home away from home.” A woman joined them. Her long, black hair was loose and had a hint of a curl. She wasn’t wearing fatigues. Instead, she wore a long, fitted gray skirt, a pale-pink shirt, and killer heels. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the boardroom, or someone’s librarian fantasy.
“Hey, Nat.” Lachlan murmured.
“Hi,” Rowan said.
“I’m Dr. Natalie Blackwell.” The woman shook Rowan’s hand.
If Rowan wasn’t mistaken, the woman had a soft Australian accent and some Asian heritage.
“I’m the chief archeologist here, while Dr. Grumpy here is our technology guru. He’s also a medical doctor.” She looked at Ty and pulled a face. “Overachiever.”
He bared white teeth.
“Callie needs help with our patient,” Lachlan said.
Ty’s face turned serious. “I’ll be back.”
Seth hefted the containment box on the bench.
“I’m sorry about your ordeal,” Natalie said softly to Rowan.
Grief hit Rowan again, and she managed a nod. “I guess I should be grateful to be alive.”
As Lachlan stepped forward to open the box, they all crowded around. Natalie snapped on some gloves, then reached in and removed the artifact. She set it on a tray on the bench.
“Well, hello there.” Her face lit up and she was clearly completely absorbed.
Rowan watched the archeologist pull out some sort of device and start scanning the artifact.
“I’ve been running the history of Ellesmere Island,” Natalie said. “Trying to see if anything pops on who could have created this artifact.”
“I was telling Lachlan that the ice where we pulled the artifact from was about five thousand years old,” Rowan said. “About when the Pre-Dorset culture lived on the island.”
Natalie nodded. “Five thousand years ago, the temperatures were warmer than they are now.”
Rowan raised a brow. “That’s right. The ice samples we were pulling back up that theory.”
“It would have helped people flourish on the island.”
“But the Pre-Dorset were hunters of sea and land mammals.”
Nat nodded. “They didn’t leave much for us to find. A few settlements and stone tools. It appears they had the bow and arrow, and other tools that made them good hunters.”
Rowan threw her hands in the air. “Nothing suggests they were a super-advanced race of people developing high-tech devices.”
Nat pressed a hip against the bench. “Imagine if this base was destroyed, and thousands of years from now, people sifted through the remains. Imagine they picked apart the wires and chips of a computer. What would they guess it was? Would they be able to deduce what it was capable of?”
Seth grunted. “I’d guess they’d suggest it was ceremonial and used to worship the gods.”
“The Pre-Dorset and their successors, the Dorset, have been shown to have no genetic link to the Thule Inuit who followed them,” Nat said. “They came from somewhere—where we don’t know for sure—and adapted very well to living in extremely cold weather. I couldn’t find much on the Pre-Dorset time period, but the Dorset left a little more behind.”
Rowan frowned. “They were still hunters, and carved soapstone and built simple stone longhouses.”
“Ah, but with some fascinating differences from their pre-cursors. Unlike their Pre-Dorset ancestors and the Inuit who came after them, the Dorset didn’t hunt land animals, but focused on sea mammals. Large sea mammals, like walrus and narwhal.”
Rowan frowned. “Okay.”
“And it appears that the Dorset didn’t use bow and arrows. Their ancestors did, but the Dorset stopped using them.” Nat smiled. “Yet they hunted large sea mammals comfortably.”
“You’re saying they found other ways to hunt.”
“Most likely. I also found some interesting Inuit legends about the Dorset culture. They called them the Tuniit or Sivullirmiut, the First Inhabitants. They were said to be giants, who were taller and stronger.”
“What?” Rowan breathed.
“Shit,” Lachlan muttered.
“A Canadian poet wrote about the Dorset giants who drove the Vikings back to their longships,” Nat finished.
Rowan sucked in a breath. “Giants?” She turned to look at Lachlan. “The artifact made Lars larger and stronger.”
Lachlan’s face hardened. “Just like a giant.”
*
Lachlan found Rowan in the kitchen area, nursing a hot chocolate.
“How are you?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “This all feels surreal.” She looked through the glass wall out toward the large doors leading to the warehouse. “I’m in a secret base in Nevada, and just a day ago, I was leading a multidisciplinary team on the Gilman Glacier.” She looked into her drink. “Now they’re all dead.”
Lachlan wanted to hold her again, but held back. He knew that nothing but time would help heal those wounds. “I’m guessing you’d like to contact your parents. Let them know you’re okay.”
She nodded.
“And would a shower help?”
She looked up, her blue eyes lighting. “I’ll bear your firstborn child if you let me have a hot shower.”
Her words made his body lock. First, he imagined exactly what it took to make a child, then he imagined what Rowan would look like with a swollen belly. He cleared his throat, and noticed her cheeks were pink.
“Childbirth isn’t required,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led her down to his quarters. He could have organized some spare quarters elsewhere for her, but for some reason, he wanted her closer. He watched her take in the sparse room. Bunk, cupboard, desk. Nothing fancy, and he hadn’t added anything personal.
“Bathroom’s through there.” He nodded to the door. “Phone’s on the desk to make your calls. I’ll bring your bag in, and then I have a meeting with my boss.”
“Thanks, Lachlan.” She smiled at him.
Lachlan went and grabbed her bag. When he returned, he heard her on the phone. He set the bag down inside the door. Rowan was sitting in the only chair in the room, her back to him.
“Yes, I’m physically okay, Mom.” Silence. “Dad didn’t answer, so I left him a message.” A pause. “Yes, I know he’s really busy.”
Lachlan frowned. Too busy to talk to his daughter who was supposed to be in the Arctic?
“I can’t…” Rowan drew in a breath. “I can’t really talk about specifics, Mom. There’ll be an investigation, but it was bad, and good people lost their lives.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he watched her press a fist to her chest.
Then she sucked in a sharp breath. “Mom—” Another pause. “Look, I’m sorry you think my failure on this research trip will reflect badly on you, but people died. I almost died—”
Lachlan straightened, heat rushing into his veins. Rowan’s mother was worried about herself and her reputation? Fucking bitch.
“Yes, I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home,” Rowan said dully. “And yes, I—”
He’d had enough. He strode forward and pressed the button to disconnect the call.
She looked up. “What the—?”
“Please tell me she wasn’t just droning on about herself?” he bit out.
Heat rose along Rowan’s cheekbones. “I’m used to it, Lachlan. Their academic careers are everything to my parents.”
“Their daughter almost died.”
She brushed a hand back through her hair. “I think I’ll take that shower now.”
“Your parents are assholes, Rowan.”
She lifted a shoulder. “They’re the only ones I’ve got.” She shot him a look before she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.