by Robyn DeHart
“A drink?” He held it out to her.
She looked up at him from beneath long, kohl-covered eyelashes. “Thank you. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She held her hand out to him, waiting for him to press the scandalously ungloved skin to his mouth. “Cassandra St. James.”
“Beautiful name,” he said as he kissed her warm hand.
“And do you have one?” she asked. “A name, that is?”
“I do. Walk with me.” It was not a request. Though Spencer sensed Cassandra was not a woman who took orders lightly, her curiosity got the better of her, so she took his arm and together they stepped out of the ballroom.
Max said nothing more and instead turned his attention to pouring them each a glass of brandy. He handed Sabine the amber-colored liquid, then downed his own glass. “At the moment, I’d like to find those ancestors of yours and throttle them. Damned riddles and clues and dead ends,” he muttered.
“Agreed. There has to be another way to stop the Chosen One than to traipse all over the country breaking into people’s homes and digging up graves.”
He poured himself another splash, then turned to find Sabine staring at him.
She boldly made her way over to him, took the drink out of his hand, and set it on the occasional table behind him. He said nothing, merely kept his eyes on hers, as she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.
“You told me not to start something I didn’t want to finish. Well, I’m starting something,” she said.
He didn’t wait for more of an invitation. His hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him, then he swept his mouth across hers.
While they kissed, she ran her hands over his torso, tracing every muscle and hair with exquisite torture. He could not lose control, he reminded himself. Tonight he would slowly indulge her every need.
“Sabine,” Max said, his voice ragged with his own need.
“I merely need to forget,” she whispered. “If only for a short while.”
The dead end they’d come to on the quest was wearing on her. She’d been through quite an ordeal over the last several days, and her life had been threatened repeatedly. She deserved to forget for a moment that danger still lurked around the next corner.
He moved to stand behind her, and while she held her hair out of the way, he unbuttoned her dress. Though there were only twelve buttons, he took his time, kissing each new portion of skin as it was revealed. Then he slowly slid the bodice off her shoulders and down her arms.
He stopped at her wrists, imprisoning her arms at her sides. He nibbled at her neck and the tops of her shoulders. Her soft moans drove him wild, and he wanted nothing more than to bend her over and take her hard and fast. But she deserved slow and patient and he wanted to give her that.
His hands went around and cupped her breasts over the thin fabric of her shift. Her nipples immediately hardened at his touch, and they pressed against the cotton material. She rubbed against his palms. He caressed her breasts while he feathered hot kisses across her neck. Her desire was palpable. Her breath came faster until she exhaled in a soft gasp.
She leaned her head back on his shoulder, an act so simple but so full of trust that it nearly knocked him over. He released her arms, and immediately she reached behind her and ran her hands across his thighs. He pressed his erection against her, loving the feel of her curvaceous backside.
He swept a hand softly down the side of her face. With as much tenderness as he could manage, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then found her mouth again. Raw need mingled with curiosity as he deepened the kiss. He needed her tonight as much as she evidently needed him.
With one swift movement, he pulled the shift over her head, then removed the rest of her undergarments until she stood before him completely nude save for her stockings and shoes. The sight of her long legs encased in those sheer stockings nearly sent him over the edge.
“So perfect,” he said as he grazed her right breast with his thumb. He cupped her, and she closed her eyes against the sensation. He went down on one knee and pressed kisses to her breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, then he suckled it into his mouth.
“Max, please,” she said. Her fingers knotted in his hair.
“Do you want me?” He stood as he asked the question and looked directly into her eyes.
She swallowed, but her brown eyes never wavered. “Yes.”
“Say it.” For reasons he did not understand, nor wanted to, he needed to hear it from her.
“I want you.”
“Again,” he insisted. He closed his eyes and listened to her soft, sultry voice.
“I want you, Max.”
He moved past her then and yanked back the coverlet on his bed. The creamy sheets looked welcoming and soft as they always did. But tonight was not a night for sleeping. Tonight was a night for loving.
She had been with other men, she’d all but admitted that. And it didn’t matter to him. Tonight he would make her forget that any other man had ever touched her. After this, she would remember only his hands, his mouth, his body.
Deftly he removed his own clothes, then walked to-ward her. She stood still beside the bed, and gently he picked her up and set her on the mattress. He slid a hand up her right thigh and she sucked in a sharp breath. But he stopped at the top of her stocking and rolled it down her leg, knocking off her shoe, then peeling the stocking off. Then he did the same with her other leg.
The hair between her legs glistened with her desire for him. He nibbled at her inner thigh, laving kisses on her warm flesh. Then he covered her center with his mouth. She was hot and wet, and her musky scent drove him wild. Her fingers threaded through his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp.
He dipped his tongue in, and she bucked against him. He grabbed her hips to keep her still as he licked and suckled her folds. That sensitive little nub got most of his attention, and Sabine’s fitful cries let him know her release was near.
And then she climaxed. She cried out his name again and again as she shook beneath him. Her hands fell away from his head, and she lay there completely spent. But he was not done with her.
He crawled up beside her and kissed each breast and then her collarbone.
Still her breathing was labored, but she was smiling.
“Touch me,” he whispered. Then he moved her hand downward until her fingers brushed against him.
She encircled him with her hand. While she explored his body, his hand ran down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. He cupped her, threading his fingers through her hair until he found that sensitive nub. He slid one finger across her opening, and she spread her legs farther, inviting him to touch her more.
Gooseflesh spread over her body, her nipples growing larger. She gripped him tightly, and he tossed his head back with a groan. She moved even closer to him.
“Now,” he said firmly. He placed himself on top of her, her body plush and warm beneath him.
He intertwined his fingers with her own, pressing her arms to the bed as he slowly entered her. Her knees came up, and she wrapped her legs around his back, clasping her feet and pulling him even deeper inside. Still he held her down and moved in and out, grinding against her.
Her nails dug into his back, and her breathing became tighter and shorter. Her release was very near. She teetered right on the edge, so he moved deeper and deeper and increased his speed.
Her body rocked with pleasure.
His own release wasn’t too far behind. His abdomen tightened as wave after wave shot through him. Then he collapsed on top of her.
They lay in comfortable silence for several moments, and for the first time in so very long, Sabine actually felt at peace. A sharp contrast to the realities around her—the prophecy, the quest, the Chosen One. Yet in this moment, lying in Max’s arms, it seemed as if all would be well. She knew it was the worst sort of deception, the kind you weave yourself. It was what her mother had done, ignoring the truth around her, and in the
end she’d paid the ultimate price.
She snuggled deeper into his side, knowing tomorrow would be a different day, and this intimacy they were enjoying would be shattered. She could not have a lover, especially not someone who stirred her soul so. She could easily fall in love with Max, and that terrified her because she knew love, in the end, only brought pain. The thought seemed to paralyze her heart, and for a fleeting second, she would have sworn it stopped beating.
“Why have you not married?” she asked him. She needed conversation to empty her head of those thoughts.
“I am not the marrying sort,” he said.
“So you’ve settled yourself on being a bachelor?”
“Something like that.”
She absently ran her fingers against the hairs curling across his torso. “But what of your duty to produce an heir?” she asked. “Without an heir, your name will die out.”
“There are enough bastards, legitimate and otherwise, in the world without me adding to them.” He shrugged. “If the name dies out, so be it. There’s nothing inherently magical or important about my family name.”
“What if your own family had had that attitude? Then you would not exist. Shouldn’t that count for something?” She could not understand a man who could so passionately commit to his quest for Atlantis, yet felt no pull of familial duty. Her entire life was about familial obligation; it was all she knew. How could she be drawn to a man who was so foreign to everything she understood?
“It should, but it doesn’t.” He rolled over to face her, and his expression was stern, all lines and contours, but he placed his hand on her hip and his touch was gentle. “My parents got married young and successfully had three children right away. One girl after another. Not exactly what a marquess wants for his family name, but at least my sisters presented opportunities to marry well and bring more money and prestige to the family.”
Sabine said nothing, simply allowed him to talk and rub his hand down her hip. When he wasn’t using his charming façade, there was a man beneath—a man with emotions and scars, and in this moment she was getting a glimpse. Like a hunter in a deer’s path, she didn’t dare move and risk spooking him.
“Five years after my last sister was born, my brother came along. Finally the heir,” he said with much formality. “The family was complete.” His eyes darkened, and his hand on her hip stilled. “Then another three years, and it was my turn. The leftover child—they already had their heir—and I would never bring them money as my sisters would, instead I would cost them. They had to send me to school. Pay for me to marry.”
He said nothing more for several moments. So she ventured, “You once told me you were alone, that you had no family. What happened to all of them?”
“Our family estate in Devonshire was destroyed in a fire. It was at night, while everyone slept. They were all inside,” he said.
“And where were you?” she asked.
“I was off digging in a cave looking for an ancient map.” He smiled ruefully. “I was trying to do something, anything that would garner their attention…” His voice trailed off.
“How old were you?” she asked quietly.
“Seventeen. We lost everything.” He laughed, though his chuckle held no humor. “All but that singed spear I keep in my office. Everything else I have, I built.”
A boy, not yet quite a man, and he had come home with such hopes only to discover his entire family had perished. On top of that, he’d inherited a title and duties he’d never asked for. But instead of forging ahead and embracing his duties, he’d gone in the opposite direction—tried to sever all ties he had with anyone so that child he’d been would never again experience pain and loss.
She knew a little about that sort of thing.
Chapter Nineteen
He hadn’t told many people that story before and knew he had probably revealed more than he had wanted. Yet he’d felt compelled to share it with her. So often he smiled or quipped and shifted the subject away from the uncomfortable parts of his life. But she’d asked as if she truly cared, as if she’d wanted to know the man he was beneath the legend hunter.
She looked up as if she had an additional question.
He might not regret sharing what he’d just told her, but he was done opening old wounds for the evening. Sabine had her own secrets that she still had yet to reveal to him. She hadn’t trusted him, not truly. Damned if that didn’t infuriate him.
“Your mother was a guardian,” Max said before she could speak.
She sat, clutching the sheet to her chest and looking at him, her expression one of great surprise. “How did you—”
“Those letters we found in Phinneas’s house. I’ve been reading through all of them. I’ve found the letters from Phinneas the most helpful, but a few of Agnes’s were useful, too,” he said.
She frowned. “But those were simply love letters,” she said softly. “I’ve read through most of them, and while I found their love story intriguing, there was nothing helpful. And I don’t recall seeing anything that stated that my mother was a guardian.”
He propped himself on one elbow. “True, but they spoke of other things. Hidden within the letters. I discovered their code. In more than one, your aunt mentions her eldest sister and how the village was scandalized when she was revealed as the guardian.”
“The first female guardian my people had ever had,” Sabine said, obviously resigned to no longer denying the truth.
“At first, I thought she meant Lydia, but in another letter she used her name,” he said.
“Isadora,” Sabine supplied. “What code?” She frowned. “Agnes mentioned nothing of a secret code. I read them only as love letters.”
“Oh, they are love letters,” he said. “But I’m coming to realize that when it comes to Atlantis, things are not always what they appear. There was more, plainly hidden.”
“She didn’t tell me,” Sabine said again.
“She was probably trying to protect you. She knew I’d be reading them.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Your mother, what happened to her?”
“She was weak and an utter fool.” There was no denying Sabine’s anger in those short words. “She did not take her duties as guardian seriously. It is the guardians’ duty to pass on their ways to their successors. In my mother’s case, that was me, her only child. Historically the guardianship passed through the bloodlines, even though there is a ceremony to name a new one. When her father died, the people in our village begged the elders to change the ceremony. Never before had a woman been named guardian. But she came forward and pled her case, promised to fulfill her duties just as a man would, and the ceremony confirmed her.
“And initially she did just as she’d vowed. She married, they had me, and she was as good a Healer as our village had seen. She trained me every day, too. And then my father fell ill.” She shook her head. “It changed everything. My mother adored my father, they adored each other, and his illness rocked her to her core. She prepared his treatment, but she did something wrong, something horribly wrong. Within a day, he was gone. Not even a year later, she had died, too. I was thirteen.”
Her tone was etched with bitterness and anger and spoke of the hurt child she’d once been. He was almost sorry he’d pressed the issue. But he’d shared truths about his family he’d never told anyone else. And so far Sabine hadn’t stood to leave. “How did she die?” he ventured.
“A guardian must consume a small portion of the elixir every day. It is part of a guardian’s duty and strengthens the connection with the elixir, with our homeland.” Sabine shook her head. She was no longer looking at him. Instead she stared at the sheet wrapped around her. “She just stopped. Wouldn’t take a drop. Eventually her body succumbed, and she died.”
“And you’ve been with your aunts ever since?”
“Yes. They were there all along, trying to assist my mother when things started to go badly, but she was intent on destroying herself.”
“What about
other people? Can they directly ingest the elixir? Or can it only be used on injuries?”
“It’s far too dangerous for others to consume except in extremely small quantities, and only in dire emergencies. It is very dangerous.” She paused for a moment. “Our people are careful with the elixir. We don’t want history to repeat itself.”
He’d have to be certain to give Marcus all of these warnings when he brought the sample to him for testing. Marcus would respect the boundaries, but Max wouldn’t want word to get out about the elixir. That kind of power would be too tempting to resist for any number of criminals.
Max was quiet, thinking of all she had said and about how they both had lost their families at a young age. He could understand the anger she had for her mother. Sabine still viewed her mother’s death through a child’s eyes. Grief could distort reality. But so much of what she’d said tonight and the last few days came together for him. She never said “us” or “I,” instead she always used “they” as if she were not part of the guardians.
“You told me you were the third guardian,” he said softly.
Sabine pulled the sheet up to her chin, but said nothing. Nevertheless, he could see the truth in her expression. The moment of surprise before she carefully capped her emotions. He’d guessed correctly.
Still she was reluctant. “Your cards are showing,” he chided her. “You’ve lost the hand. Why won’t you simply tell me the truth? You owe me that much.”
“Why?” Her amber-colored eyes sparked with indignation. “Why do I owe you anything?”
Her words stung. How could she ask such a thing? After all they’d been through together. After he’d taken her to bed. Not once, but several times. And here she was, treating him as nothing more than hired help.
He shook his head in frustration. “Without me, you wouldn’t have had access to the full prophecy. Not to mention, I’ve offered protection to you and your aunts. And I’ve assisted you in deciphering the clues.” He raked his fingers through his hair.