She and Coll had been reading Faye Munro’s journal for three nights now, and though they had not yet found a word about the treasure, she was looking forward to the evening. She found the journey of discovery as fascinating as the goal itself. Something about taking that journey with Coll was also intensely exciting. Just her sitting next to him, their shoulders almost touching, was enough to raise her pulse, and the soft rumble of his voice both soothed and stirred her. She found herself daydreaming about spending all her evenings this way, talking over their day’s activities and unraveling knotty problems. Every night she was more reluctant to leave the library and retire to her room, which seemed increasingly lonely, dark, and cold. She feared, however, that Coll was tiring of the whole thing. Though he participated willingly enough in their search of the journal, he was clearly becoming restless and tense. His body was taut beside her, as though he were coiled and about to spring up at any moment.
