Desire Me

by Robyn DeHart

  A few moments later, the train jerked into motion. Sabine held the armrests firmly to keep herself from jostling about. She watched out her window as the station, then the bustling London streets, chugged by.

  “What else can you tell me about these guardians?” he asked.

  She looked out the window, and the landscape passed by in a blur. Her stare became unfocused until she saw her own reflection in the glass. He knew she was withholding information from him, so there was no reason to deny it. “I can’t tell you anything else,” she said simply.

  “So you know who they are?” he asked.

  She nodded once.

  “Her majesty? Is she a guardian?”

  “Heavens no,” she blurted out. The idea was ludicrous. “Queen Victoria is not Atlantean.”

  He nodded but said nothing more. They sat quietly for several moments, and Sabine relaxed a measure.

  “You consider me an adversary,” he said. He drummed his fingers on the wooden armrest. “That certainly creates an interesting dilemma.”

  “I don’t consider you anything,” she said abruptly. Not precisely true, since she considered him devilishly handsome and dangerously tempting.

  “You certainly know how to wound a man’s pride,” he said. He stretched his well-sculpted legs out in front of him. Even though they were encased in his trousers, she could tell his thighs were muscular.

  Her mouth went dry.

  “Ordinarily women find me quite irresistible, I can assure you,” he continued.

  “Of that I have no doubt,” she said tartly, then realized she might have given herself away.

  “Indeed.”

  “Silly girls,” she said, in an effort to disguise her slip. “To succumb to such obvious charm and good looks.”

  His lips twitched. “You prefer men who are less obviously handsome?”

  She eyed him, trying to determine if he was toying with her or if he was completely serious. His sharp blue eyes revealed nothing.

  “You seem to be quite immune to my charms,” he continued.

  The truth was she was not immune to his charms at all, quite the contrary. She found herself utterly drawn to him. Shamelessly so. But she would be damned if she would let him know any of that.

  Maxwell Barrett was used to getting his way with women. He was the sort of man who could make you forget what you were about to say, forget why you’d walked into a room, forget your own name. Precisely the sort of man she’d love to have an affair with, but there was something about Max that gave her pause. Could she indulge, and make certain her heart remained untouched? She knew Max was not a man who would easily fall in love. But neither did she.

  “Your charms, as it were, have nothing to do with this journey,” she said, then looked out the window.

  He was only charming with the intent to disarm her. To try to manipulate the truth out of her. It was further proof that last night she’d been a fool to believe she could trust him.

  A woman with a refreshment tray stepped into their car. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but here is the tray you requested.” The woman placed the tray on the empty seat next to him, then left the car.

  Max handed Sabine a glass of wine. “Would you care for some cheese or bread with that?” he asked her.

  “Not now,” she said.

  “Your aunt sent me to protect you,” he said.

  “Calliope talks too much.”

  He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His nearness allowed her a whiff of his scent. This morning, she found no hint of brandy or tobacco. Instead she inhaled sandalwood, masculinity, and pure seduction. Her nose twitched.

  “Tell me about the elixir,” he said.

  His curiosity tugged at her. Atlanteans were raised to hold their country and their ways in great esteem, despite the loss of their actual land. To meet someone who had an interest in her people, well, it thrilled some small part of her. Surely most Atlanteans had shared a tale, a time or two. How else would the English and other people know of them?

  She could be vague and give just enough to appease him without revealing anything dangerous. There was no need to tell him how a guardian’s amphora never ran dry. A never-ending supply of elixir could tempt even the most noble of persons. And to make matters worse, she had already used some on him to heal his gunshot wound. He’d seen the powers at work. No, she would merely give him the basics, what he could find in a history book from Atlantis, if any of them had survived.

  “It is said to be from the waters of Atlantis,” she said.

  He leaned back again, putting his legs out in front of him. They were so close that she could have reached down and brushed her fingertips across the top of his shin.

  “What is it supposed to do?” he asked.

  “It acts as an enhancer.” She met his gaze, carefully selecting her words before she spoke. “For example, it would make Galileo more intelligent. And Oscar Wilde more”—she paused, searching for the right word—“eccentric. So I suppose for you, it would make you even more charming.” She did nothing to hide the sarcasm from her voice.

  “And likewise it would no doubt enhance your sharp wit.” He nodded with a smile.

  She laughed. She could not help herself.

  “You should laugh more often,” he said. “Life is intended to be enjoyed.”

  “Life isn’t always amusing,” she countered, then took a sip of her wine.

  “Touché,” he said.

  She fingered the chain around her neck. The vial was hidden beneath her dress and rested safely against her body.

  “So it’s from the waters of Atlantis,” he mumbled. “If it is an enhancer, then it would enhance youth and beauty as well, I suppose. Which is undoubtedly why some believe it to be the fountain of youth.”

  She sat forward. “Do people actually believe that?” she asked.

  “There are tales.”

  She shook her head. That was ridiculous. Atlanteans aged just as any people would. “Though it might smooth someone’s skin and add shine to someone’s hair, it doesn’t actually make people younger. It is not magic,” she said defensively.

  “But if it enhances—”

  “Enhances what a person already possesses,” she interrupted. “It does not create where something wasn’t before, only makes existing traits stronger, bigger, more pronounced.”

  “One could argue that was a form of magic,” he said.

  “I would not,” she said with a shrug.

  “What of the healing capabilities?” he asked. Then his smile faded as he looked over her shoulder.

  She turned, and through the glass in the door, she saw two men. One pointed and turned the door latch.

  “Sabine, run!” Max said.

  Spencer needed to get back to Cornwall. But damned if her majesty had not let him out of her sight. It had been one advisory meeting after another. He had more pressing matters to attend to, though he could not very well tell the queen that. To her and everyone around her, there was nothing more important.

  That old man, Phinneas, had fooled him. When Spencer had arrived at the small cottage of the second guardian, he’d found a cabinet full of potions and tonics, so he’d naturally assumed it was the Healer he’d discovered. And he hadn’t searched for anything but the elixir.

  It had been a foolish mistake, one he probably wouldn’t have made if he hadn’t been rushed. But her highness required so much attention lately and he couldn’t afford to raise her suspicions about his behavior.

  After Spencer had returned to London, though, the words of the dying guardian had run through his mind again and again. Nonsensical words. Spoken like that of the Seer. Spencer had known that when it came time to take the Seer’s elixir, he would also have to find the book—the book filled with all the visions and predictions of all the Seers. Spencer needed that book.

  As soon as these buffoons were finished talking, he’d make his way back to Cornwall.

  They were being followed. Or more precisely,
Sabine was being followed. Max held firmly to Sabine’s hand as they closed the door of their train car behind them. Standing precariously between one car and the next, they shifted from right to left as the train chugged down the tracks.

  “Be careful when you cross,” Max told her. The train curved to the right, and the coupler rocked in response. He stepped through the opened section and reached the other side. The men were now in their train car heading straight for the door at Sabine’s back. “Sabine, hurry.”

  She looked back over her shoulder, then at Max. In one graceful movement, she leaped over the joint.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “The men from your shop.”

  Quickly, he opened the door of the next car, and they shuffled inside. It was another first-class car, much as their own had been, only this one was full of passengers.

  “Pardon us,” Max said as he dragged Sabine behind him.

  Again they found themselves between two cars. The men were not far behind them.

  “We need to find somewhere to hide,” Sabine said. “Eventually we are going to run out of train.”

  “I realize,” he said.

  They found themselves in a dining car next. The rich aroma of shepherd’s pie filled the air.

  “A table, my lord?” a plump woman asked. She wiped her hands on her white apron, then motioned to an empty table. “This is one of our best,” she said with a smile.

  “Perhaps in a bit,” he said.

  The crisp breeze slapped his face as they once again stepped outside. He crossed the threshold, then held out his hand for Sabine. Her foot slipped. She nearly fell, but he was able to catch her and pull her close.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  The door opened from the dining car. “Found you,” one of the men said with a sneer.

  Max punched the man, knocking him backward. He and Sabine tore into the door just ahead of them, and they found themselves in a luggage car. Trunks and cases surrounded them, making it difficult to maneuver.

  “They’re right behind us,” Sabine said, her voice sharp with fear.

  “I’m thinking.” Max dragged a particularly large trunk in front of the door to block it. It wouldn’t keep them out for long, but it might give them a head start. Fortunately this door was solid, with no window to allow the men to watch their every move.

  “Max, in here,” Sabine said.

  He turned and found her motioning to an armoire. She opened the doors. Dresses in every color imaginable filled the space.

  The car door shook as the men tried to break in.

  “You get inside the armoire, behind the rest of those dresses,” he told her. He handed her the pistol he kept tucked in the back of his trouser waistband. “Use this if you need to.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be right there with you. First I need to send our friends looking elsewhere for us.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and then he made his way to the opposite door. He opened it slightly to make it appear that they’d gone out that door and into the following car. Then he headed back for Sabine. He shoved trunks to block the path he took to prevent the men from seeing where they hid.

  The door slid partially open. “There’s something blocking it,” one of the men yelled.

  Max hurried to the armoire, stepped inside, and pulled the doors shut. Immediately the air around him warmed and everything went dark.

  A hand grabbed his arm and tugged. He worked his way behind the lace-covered dresses to the back of the armoire where Sabine hid. She clutched his hand. They stood side by side, hidden amid satin and velvet and silk.

  The men broke through the blocked door.

  “We’ll find them. They can’t hide forever on this train,” one man said.

  Sabine held her breath. They both stood still.

  The men moved through the luggage car, pushing trunks out of the way, presumably searching for a suitable hiding place for Max and Sabine. Max could see nothing; he could only hear Sabine’s short breaths near his ear, feel her warmth as she huddled next to him. Her breast pressed against his arm, and he longed to turn her, hold her against him. Desire rippled through his legs.

  The trunk outside the armoire shifted, scraping against the car floor. Max held firm to the armoire door. Gently, quietly, he pushed the bolt from the inside so that it slid silently into place. He just hoped he’d be able to pull it back and that they wouldn’t be stuck in here until the owners came to claim their clothing.

  Someone tugged on the door, and it clattered against the frame. “This is locked,” the man said.

  “They’re not in here,” another said. “Next car.”

  The door moved again, then stilled.

  The outer door to the car slid open, then closed. It was too soon to leave the armoire, though. While Max didn’t suspect those men were clever enough to set a trap, he didn’t want to completely ignore the possibility.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered close to Sabine’s ear.

  She nodded. “Hot,” she murmured.

  The air was tight, he couldn’t argue with that. “Just a few more minutes.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Max didn’t know how long they hid within the confines of the armoire. Sabine’s breathing came in short spurts. The limited air was getting to both of them. He pulled at the latch, trying to unlock the cabinet, but the bolt would not move.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “The lock is stuck.”

  “Are we locked inside here? For who knows how many more hours?” she asked.

  “I’ll get it unlocked.”

  “That’s right, you do have a knack for picking locks, don’t you?” she asked.

  He would have sworn he’d heard humor in her voice. “I have, on occasion, had opportunity to unlatch a lock without a key.” From his pocket, he withdrew a coin, then slid it up to the latch. It took some working, but he was able to slide the lock over.

  Slowly, he opened one door. Cooler air moved around them, and he took a deep breath. He peeked around the door, but caught no sight of the men.

  “I think we’re safe. For now.” He helped Sabine out of the armoire, then together they navigated the luggage car to go out the way they’d come in, then back through the dining car and the other cars until they had reached their own.

  “We can’t stay in here,” Sabine said. “We still have several hours on the trip.”

  “This way.” They went out the opposite end of their car and into the one in front of it. It was a car that had twelve compartments, including a sleeper. Max knocked on the wall next to the curtained area. The curtain moved, and a young man stepped forward.

  “What?” he asked. Another boy, a few years younger, jumped down from the top cot.

  “The car in front of this one is empty; I rented the entire thing,” Max said. “My companion here is not feeling well and wishes to lie down.” He pulled two notes out of his coat pocket. “Could we switch with you? Of course, I’d pay you for any inconvenience.”

  The older boy smiled and turned back to look at his brother. They both nodded. He snatched the notes from Max’s hand, and they grabbed their things and ran out without another word.

  Max held the curtain open for Sabine, then closed it behind them once they were safely ensconced in the sleeping cabin.

  “You think we’ll be safe in here?” she asked. She sank onto one of the lower bunks, leaning forward so she didn’t hit her head on the top.

  “There are more people in this car,” he said. “It’s unlikely they will search for us here.” Though he wasn’t completely certain that was true, he wanted to give her some measure of comfort.

  “They must have followed me here,” she said. Then she looked up, her eyes wide with terror. “My aunts. What if more men returned to the shop? I know they’re safe at your home, but what of work? I didn’t even think…” Her voice faded as she dropped her
head into her hands.

  He sat next to her. “I asked some friends to keep watch while we were gone,” he said. “Your aunts will be safe.”

  She looked over at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I believe the customary response is thank you.”

  But she said nothing. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him. More than likely, he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation. She’d been through quite an ordeal. But he’d never been much of a gentleman, and damn, she felt good pressed against him. So he threaded his fingers through the back of her silky soft hair and pulled her closer. He deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth to him, and their tongues touched.

  Lust forged through him.

  He tugged her hair to lay her back on the cot. The coils groaned beneath their weight. Still they kissed, their lips melded together, their tongues intertwined. Her fingers dug into his arm, and she released small sounds of pleasure.

  She drove him wild. Her touch, her taste, the feel of her beneath him.

  He left her mouth and kissed the column of her throat, paying particular attention to that lovely spot he’d first noticed the night they met. Her pulse leaped beneath his tongue. She moaned again.

  Today she wore a simple travel gown of brown wool. It did nothing to enhance her curves, but as soon as he touched her, the soft fabric left little between his body and hers. He slid his hand up her torso and cupped her breast. With no corset in the way, he could freely feel the softness. Her nipple beaded between his fingers.

  Sabine arched toward his touch.

  He kissed her again. Her hand slid up his back, pressing him farther onto her. She wanted him. He reached down and moved a hand up her leg, her skin smooth and soft beneath his palm.

  His fingers traced behind her knee to the sensitive flesh of her thighs. Her teeth grabbed hold of his earlobe as his hand explored beneath her skirts. When he brushed lightly across the apex of her legs, she released a primal groan of desire. His own need poured through his veins and settled heavily in his groin.