Desire Me

by Robyn DeHart

  With that thought, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the chair. Then he removed his stockings and boots. He lay on the pallet on the floor and was very aware of Sabine’s breathing. Even as tired as he was, he was able to conjure an image of her beckoning him to the bed. Damnation!

  He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His breathing and her paper rustling were the only sounds. He noted each page she read as the parchment brushed when she turned the pages. She said nothing, just continued to read.

  After about an hour had passed, he rolled to his side. She sat cross-legged in the bed, the candle next to her nearly burned completely down. The book rested in her hands, and she mouthed silently as she read.

  “You’re about to lose that candle,” he said.

  She started at the sound of his voice. A quick glance at the candle, and then a smile played at her lips. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Anything yet?”

  “Not yet.” She set the book on the table next to the candle, then took a deep breath.

  “Good night, Sabine,” he said.

  She pursed her lips and blew out the candle, shrouding the room in near darkness except for the moonlight casting shadows across the floor. He remained on his side watching her as she reached behind to unhook her dress. She slid out of the wool fabric, then sat on the bed again to remove her stockings. Though he couldn’t see much detail, the outline of her leg as she rolled the stocking down was enough for him. The silhouette of her lush body fired lust through his blood. That simple image was far more erotic than the entire nude bodies of some of the other women he’d been with. His imagination could fill in the remaining details—her warm olive skin, the delicate curve of her calf down to her dainty ankle. Yes, he could imagine every last inch of her.

  * * *

  The moon peeked in through the worn curtains on the small window in Phinneas’s bedroom. Sabine had been tired when Max found her in the kitchen, exhausted really, but with the discovery of Phinneas’s book, sleep had evaded her. She’d read as much as she could, but could not make sense of much of it. And then there was the letter she’d found stuffed inside a cushion on the sofa downstairs.

  Sabine listened for several moments before she moved. She wanted to make certain that Max was sleeping before she snuck back into the kitchen where she’d hidden it. It seemed Phinneas must have been working on the letter when he’d been interrupted. Perhaps by the killer. He’d hidden it, which led her to believe it might have sensitive information within, perhaps the identity of the third guardian. She wanted to be certain before she shared it with Max.

  Her feet were bare, and she wore only her shift. Without the blanket covering her, the cool night air from the opened windows created gooseflesh wherever it touched.

  She paused to allow the blackness around her to fade as her eyes adjusted. Max’s even breathing from his pallet on the floor let her know he still slept. She stood over him a moment, unwisely admiring the way the cover drifted down to bare his chest. As softly as she could, she tiptoed past his sleeping form, then padded her way down the darkened stairs to the kitchen below. Once downstairs, she was able to light a candle, and the soft glow filled the tiny space.

  When she’d first stumbled upon the letter, she’d nearly had the first half read when Max had come into the kitchen. So she’d shoved the parchment into a jug of flour for later. Now as she fished it out of the powder, she heard the stairs creak behind her. She stilled.

  “What are you looking for?” Max asked, his voice darkly seductive in the candlelight.

  Her heart felt as though it had fallen into her belly, and there it pounded in her gut. She took a quick breath as guilt pinched and prodded her. He had found that group of letters as well as Phinneas’s book, and he had shared both with her.

  No one was to know Agnes’s identity as the guardian, and Sabine had already trusted Max with more information than she should have. But that secret she had to protect, and until she knew for certain it wasn’t mentioned in the letter, she could not share it with him.

  Before she turned to face him, she shook the flour from her hand, then tucked the letter inside the folds of her undergarment. “Nothing,” she said.

  When she met his glance, she could not miss the heat of his gaze as it traveled the length of her. She knew he was appraising her, seeing more of her curves. Wanting her. Sensations of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, flooded her. She wanted him, too, but she knew now that when it came to Max, she was playing with fire.

  However, his desire for her could provide the perfect distraction and give her a chance to escape without his discovering the letter. She sauntered over to him. She reminded herself of all that Agnes had taught her about men and their ways. They were easy to manipulate and manage if you used the right touch, the perfect tone. She’d seen that with Max during the card game. When she’d first sat down, he’d been so distracted by her presence that he’d lost more than one hand. With determination, she relaxed her shoulders and reminded herself of why she was here, of her duty to her family.

  With one finger, she traced down his bare chest, something she’d longed to do since the night she’d tended his wound. She tried her best not to notice how firm and well muscled he was. But as his muscles tensed beneath her touch, she wanted nothing more than to splay both hands across his torso and feel every hard inch of him.

  “I couldn’t sleep, and I was merely looking to see if there was anything to eat.” She smiled sheepishly. “I got hungry.”

  “And?” he asked, his eyes a steely blue from this close. “Did you find anything appetizing?”

  She allowed her own glance to trail down to his waist. His abdomen was perfectly sculpted. Her mouth went dry. She looked up at his face. “Nothing.”

  “You’re certain about that?” He stepped ever so close to her and dipped his head near her ear. His hot breath scattered chills over her flesh.

  She was unable to tell if he was merely flirting in return or if he suspected something. So she did the only thing she could think of to deter him from further questioning. She kissed him.

  His soft lips responded immediately as she leaned her body into his. She kissed him passionately, trying to convince him that this kiss had been her intention all along. That it was the only reason she threaded her fingers through the back of his hair. It was surprisingly soft; a sharp contrast to his solid and toned neck.

  She did not enjoy his warm hands cupping her bare arms. Nor did she enjoy how molten his kiss was when he coaxed her mouth open and swept his tongue against her own. And she certainly did not enjoy the coils of pleasure that were springing from her abdomen and winding up around her to tease and tingle her breasts.

  As their tongues molded to each other, desire surged through her body, peaking her nipples. She was losing control of the situation and herself. Kissing him was not the goal, only the means, she reminded herself. But her body did not want to listen. Her body wanted to wrap her legs around him and have him make love to her right up against this cupboard.

  His lips trailed to her ear, then down her throat. He cupped her breast, and she arched into him.

  Yes. She wanted this. She wanted him.

  “You are exquisitely beautiful,” he whispered against her hair.

  She’d been flattered before, but coming from him, the words seemed to actually hit their mark, as if she were being told for the very first time that she was pretty.

  But it wasn’t the first time, and he was an experienced charmer merely toying with her. As much as that should have warned her to step away from him, she didn’t move.

  Then his kisses stopped, and he held a finger up to her lips to keep her from speaking. He snuffed out the candle, immediately shrouding them in darkness. It was then that she heard it—the noise that had caught Max’s attention. Someone was at the front door.

  Chapter Ten

  Together they crept toward the back door. “Faster,” Max whispered. They had nearly reach
ed the door when she paused.

  “The letters,” she said. “They’re still upstairs.”

  Max swore. Once again, he handed her his pistol. “Go outside and wait for me.” With that, he tore up the staircase.

  She slid out the back door, and he closed it behind her. He made his way up the stairs as quietly as possible and grabbed his bag where he’d already tucked the letters. He shoved the book inside, then swung the strap over his shoulder. There was no way to know who it was at the front door, but if it was the men from the train, Max knew they’d be armed, and he was outnumbered.

  He heard the front door open while he was still upstairs. Now he was stuck, with no way out. The window on the second floor was far too narrow for a man his size. And to simply walk back down the stairs seemed foolish. Max looked around the room for a makeshift weapon.

  The stairs creaked. Max grabbed the only thing he could find, the heavy candleholder from the bedside table. He hid next to the doorway and waited for the intruder to pass through. The shadow of a man entered the room, and Max slammed the heavy metal down upon the man’s head. It clattered to the floor, and the man grunted in pain.

  Max jumped down the short staircase and had barely hit the floor when the man crashed into him from behind. The room was dark so Max couldn’t make out his features, but he knew that this man was taller and thinner than either of the men who had chased them on the train. Max rammed his fist into the man’s back. A fist came down hard on Max’s shoulder, nearly bringing him to his knees. But he recovered and ran headfirst into the man’s gut, crashing him into the wall. The man’s breath came out in a hard whoosh. Max hit him in the face, knocking him to the floor.

  Escape time.

  Max ran out the back door and grabbed Sabine by the hand. She screamed and tried to pull away from him.

  “It’s me,” he said through his teeth.

  She picked up her pace and together they ran. Max turned once to see whether the man followed, but there was no sign of him. Perhaps Max had hit him hard enough with that last blow to knock him out. On the other hand, he could have gone around to the front of the cottage to retrieve his horse or carriage to chase them.

  So they didn’t slow, they just ran.

  Damned bastard nearly broke one of his ribs. Spencer shook his head as he came to his feet. He made it out the back door in time to see the man, along with a woman, run straight into the woods. For a fleeting moment, he could have sworn the man was Maxwell Barrett. He tore back through the house, then out the front door, and hopped on his horse to chase after them.

  Chances were if the Seer’s book had been here, it was gone now. The horse’s hooves threw dirt up behind him as he galloped toward the woods. They were on foot, so there was no possible way they could outrun him. But half an hour later when he still hadn’t found them, he was beginning to believe otherwise. Perhaps they’d had horses nearby. Or knew of hiding places in these darkened woods.

  Spencer slowed his horse to a gentle gait and tried to listen to the noises around him. They were gone.

  If that was the marquess he’d seen, then Spencer would have to find a way to retrieve that book. He already had all the information required to fulfill the prophecy, but he didn’t want to run the risk of the remaining guardian’s getting his hands on the book and possibly discovering a way to stop him.

  After spending the night in a damp cave they’d stumbled upon in the woods, Max and Sabine made their way to the train station. Max had managed to steal some clothes for them from a clothesline, but they were still dirty and exhausted. He didn’t bother trying to secure an entire train car for their return trip to London. The privacy was nice, but when you had men on your trail, it was better to blend in with the crowd. They sat across from each other in the dining car, a small table between them, sharing a meal. And they had begun to read over the letters they’d found in Phinneas’s cottage, which as it turned out were mostly from Sabine’s aunt Agnes.

  “It still feels like a violation of her privacy,” Sabine said.

  “We can return them to her as soon as we get back to London. First, though, we should see if we can find any vital clues,” Max said.

  “They’d be more useful if we had the replies to these letters.” Sabine took a sip of tea and looked out the window to her right.

  Max read: “‘I thought of you today, when we were making bread. Lydia tried a new recipe that included cinnamon and I know how you love the smell. The entire cottage smelled of the sweet herb and, for a moment, it felt as if you were there wrapping your arms around me. I will not speak of how I wish things were different, we know that cannot be. But you are in my every breath, every beat of my heart. All my love, Agnes.’”

  Max watched in silence as a few stray tears escaped Sabine’s eyes. She continued to watch the scenery chug by outside their window.

  “They were lovers,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I never knew.”

  “Why couldn’t they be together?” Max asked.

  “It is our way. The three guardians represent three separate peoples, similar to tribes.” She met his eyes. “Phinneas is from the line of Seers whereas Agnes is from the line of Healers. There is no mixing. It simply isn’t done,” she said. “And Phinneas was a guardian. A union between them would have been forbidden.”

  “Is Agnes the third guardian?” Max asked.

  Sabine chewed at her lip, then took a deep breath. “No, she is not. I am.”

  “You?” he asked.

  She glanced around the train car before answering. “Yes.”

  “So then you must have come to London to find me and my map and to gain access to the prophecy?” Max asked.

  “Not precisely, though we did need the prophecy. And we knew you had the map in your possession.”

  “But there still might be other information in that book that will help with the prophecy,” Max said.

  “Yes. I’m hoping Agnes can help decipher it, because she obviously knew Phinneas quite well.”

  They read silently for a few moments. “If not specifically for the map, why did you move to London?” he asked.

  “To sell our products,” she said simply.

  Beauty products from a family of Atlanteans. A family where one member was a guardian, which meant they protected elixir from the fountain of Atlantis. He set the letter he was reading on the seat beside him. “Your products must be very good to cause such a stir in Society,” he said. He was beginning to piece together the mystery surrounding Sabine, though admittedly he had not expected her to be the third guardian.

  “I suppose,” she agreed. “But you know it only takes getting something into the right hands and then everyone else has to have it.”

  “Not your typical jar of crème full of empty promises, though.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No, your products are authentic.”

  “What are you suggesting, Max?”

  “The elixir. You’re putting it in your crème.”

  She said nothing.

  “Why, Sabine? Monetary gain?” he asked.

  “Of course not.” She frowned, clearly offended.

  “If the elixir is as dangerous as you’ve suggested, why put it out there?”

  “It was the only way. We did it for our protection.” She chewed at her lip before continuing. “The Chosen One has ways of detecting those from Atlantis through the elixir.”

  Max thought for a moment before speaking. “So distributing it across London allows you to hide among the rest of us,” Max finished for her.

  She nodded.

  “That’s very clever,” he said. He said nothing more for a while. She picked up Phinneas’s book and flipped through it, narrowing her focus to one page, then slowly turning a page.

  They sat in silence for nearly an hour while she read the book and he read the letters. So far, he hadn’t found anything particularly useful in Agnes’s letters, but he suspected that if they had Phinneas’s responses, they might complete the puzzle. Some
aspect of them seemed important to him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it at the moment.

  Mostly Agnes spoke of everyday life in their village, of missing Phinneas, and of the love that they shared. But every now and then, he’d come across one that felt as if Agnes was talking about something far more important than their vegetable garden or how one woman had had a particularly difficult birth. He folded the parchment back up, then set it aside.

  Max watched Sabine read the book. She was hiding something, physically hiding something from him. He’d seen her conceal something behind her last night before she’d kissed him in the kitchen.

  He could have accused her right then and there, but it was far more interesting to watch her try to deceive him, particularly when her attempts at deception included hot kisses… Well, who was he to discourage her? She’d felt good pressed against him. Without her dress, he’d been one layer closer to touching her warm skin. On the earlier train ride, he’d touched her, but they had never removed their clothing.

  A day later and he could still feel her mouth on his, her soft arms beneath his hands, her molten curves pressed to his body.

  Thoughts like that would only cause the remainder of the train ride to be particularly uncomfortable, though, so he turned his thoughts to something else.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about this Chosen One. Scotland Yard is investigating the murders of our military officers. I think I’ve been looking at this entire thing the wrong way.”

  Sabine put the book down and leaned in. “How?”

  “I thought what I needed to do—what we needed to do—was help them identify the killer. If we did that, we could protect the military and the last guardian”—he nodded to her—“and stop the prophecy. But I suspect that we should leave the detective work to the inspectors and instead focus our energy on something else entirely. What happens if the Chosen One finds the remaining guardian? What will happen to you?”

  “He steals the elixir, the guardian dies, and the prophecy is completed. With the way events have unfolded thus far, I suspect he will try to use England’s military to complete what the Atlantean army started so many years ago,” Sabine said.