Desire Me

by Robyn DeHart

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful,” she said.

  “This isn’t about gratitude.” He propelled himself from the bed, reaching for the pants he’d discarded on the floor in his earlier passion. “You don’t trust me. And you never have.”

  “It’s not that,” she said.

  “Yes, actually it is,” he said, knowing his anger was evident in his tone. But he didn’t care. Yes, he was angry. He’d done everything right to deserve her trust, yet she had lied to him.

  He shoved his feet into the legs of his pants. He shouldn’t even give a damn about her bloody secret. She was a pastime, nothing more. He wouldn’t make the mistake of forgetting that again.

  No, he didn’t want harm to come to her, but that didn’t mean that he would forsake his own ambitions simply because of a secret she wanted to keep.

  “Just tell me the truth, Sabine. I already know, but I want to hear you say it.” His voice sounded weary to his own ears. Earlier, he’d been ready to take her again, his body heavy with desire. But now ice ran through his veins, cooling his need.

  Why did he care so much whether she was honest with him?

  He simply could not abide dishonesty. That’s all it was. He needed all the facts when he was in the middle of a situation.

  “No,” she said fiercely. “Does that make you happy? I am not the guardian.”

  “It’s Agnes, isn’t it?” he asked.

  She took a shaky breath, then nodded.

  “But what of your being your mother’s heir? Shouldn’t you have been the next in line?” he asked.

  “Yes, but the ceremony named Agnes as guardian.”

  “You were a child at the time.”

  “That wouldn’t matter. Some had been named guardian at even younger ages. The fact of the matter was that I was not chosen. Whether that’s because of my mother’s failure or some deficiency in me, I do not know. I only know that I was not worthy to bear the duties of the guardian.”

  He disagreed with her, but he understood why she would believe it. He’d inherited a title he’d no right to claim. His brother, Phillip, had been heir. But he had died, they’d all died, and now Max was the marquess, whereas Sabine had been the rightful heir, yet she’d been stripped of that honor.

  “Why is it then that you wear that vial of elixir?” he asked.

  “Agnes gave it to me several months ago. I think they’re trying to train me, trying to prepare me so when the time comes around for the next guardian, perhaps I’ll be chosen. They’re fooling themselves, but I hate to disappoint them,” she said softly. “So I wear it.”

  Something in his chest caught, but he shoved it away. He didn’t have tender feelings. Not anymore. Despite that, Max couldn’t help but feel some measure of relief that the Chosen One wouldn’t be after her.

  Still, it was important for him to know the truth. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I need the truth if I am to protect you and your aunts,” he said.

  “You can be angry with me for withholding it from you, but it’s not as if you trust me either, Max.” She scooted farther away from him, making her way to the edge of the bed. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with your motives. You can’t possibly be helping me simply out of the goodness of your heart, or merely because you’re a patriot. You’re a scholar of Atlantis, and simply by offering your assistance, you have four Atlanteans currently residing under your roof. Rather convenient, don’t you think?”

  She was right. There was something he wanted, and it was in his house right now. She was in possession of the very thing he sought. The one thing that would prove the existence of Atlantis. The elixir. He knew he couldn’t take Agnes’s away from her because she would die. But he could take Sabine’s necklace.

  She climbed out of the bed with her back to him and bent to retrieve her clothes. Quickly she pulled on her shift. She turned to face him, her shoes bundled in her arms. “Is that the only reason you wanted to know the truth?” she whispered. “Because of the prophecy?”

  He eyed her for a moment, searching her face for something she wasn’t saying. For any hint of what she wanted from him. What did she expect? “What else would there be?”

  He all but held his breath, waiting for her answer.

  She seemed to be searching his face as thoroughly as he’d searched hers. Whatever answers she found there must have offered no consolation.

  “Nothing else,” she said tersely. “You’re right, there’s nothing else.” She turned to go.

  “Sabine?”

  She faced him.

  “Tomorrow we’ll finish this bloody quest. We’ll find the dove.”

  She nodded but said nothing as she slipped out of his room.

  The only thing that stood in the way of his proving the existence of Atlantis was Sabine. But in order to do that, he would have to betray her. He knew that. That was what had given him pause. Normally she wore the necklace, but lately she’d taken to carrying it in her bag.

  She’d trust him now. She had no other options now that he held their secrets. He’d pushed and pushed until she’d had no choice but to tell him everything. And eventually, he’d have to betray that trust.

  He was a bastard.

  Sabine and her aunts sat eating breakfast together the following morning, and across the table, Max sat quietly reading the newspaper while sipping his tea. Aside from wishing them all a good morning, he hadn’t said another word.

  There was nothing further to discuss, she reminded herself. Still, their argument from last night lingered in the room like stale perfume. But more than the fight, she thought of the way he’d touched her, so gentle yet so full of passion. The way he’d said her name and whispered in the dark. The feel of him inside her, his skin pressed against hers.

  His icy blue gaze looked up and locked on hers. He’d caught her watching him. Those intense azure eyes of his pierced through her.

  She took a bite of her bread, not even tasting the melted butter, but she wanted something to do other than stare at Max.

  “Sabine, what did you do last night?” Lydia asked.

  Sabine nearly choked on her food. She coughed and took a sip of tea.

  Max set his newspaper down. “We went to the King’s Library. Found yet another riddle to be solved,” he said.

  “Indeed,” Agnes said. “And have you solved it?”

  “Nearly,” Max said.

  Sabine recovered enough to speak. “The riddle told us we needed to look at what was right in front of us. Something like that.” She glanced at Max. “Perhaps we need to go back to the library, stand near the tablet, and see what it could possibly mean.”

  “To see what was right before you?” Agnes asked.

  “Something similar,” Max said. “The library.” He frowned. “No, that won’t work.”

  “Of course not,” Sabine said as realization hit her. “That tablet was found elsewhere. Foolish.” She shook her head.

  “This riddle business isn’t easy,” Calliope soothed. “It is more a job for the Seer,” she said, then her eyes widened as she remembered Max sat at the table.

  Sabine shook her head. “It matters not, he knows everything,” she said.

  Lydia’s expression tightened. Sabine knew her eldest aunt was angry, but that could not be helped. The truth was, Max had assisted them, saved them really, and kept them protected. She owed him much. They all did.

  “Only two more days until your birthday,” Agnes said.

  They were running out of time.

  “During the Crusades. That’s when the tablet was discovered on the Isle of Rhodes,” Max said, redirecting the conversation back to the clue. He stood. “And I can think of only one other important piece that was found right there with it.” He flashed Sabine a smile. “Achilles’ sword.”

  The huge manor sat prominently in Hyde Park. With a recent façade of Bath stone, the three-storied house was grand and ostentatious.

  “Who lives here?” Sabine whispered to Max. S
he held up her skirts as they climbed the stairs to the large estate. Earlier that day, Max had come home with a gown for her to wear to this ball, a stunning dress he’d selected just for her. It was a startling bright blue silk accented with darker blue velvet trim, and cut perfectly for her frame.

  “The late Duke of Camden. Now his widow primarily resides here,” Max said. “I should warn you”—Max leaned close to her ear—“this isn’t your ordinary ball.”

  She wasn’t certain what he meant because she’d never been to any ball before. It was on her tongue to ask, but they, along with several other guests, were met at the front door by a footman. “The Marquess of Lindberg and guest,” Max said to the man, who then announced their entrance to the entire crowd. The entryway was enormous, and the ceiling seemed to reach into the heavens. Candles and petite roses surrounded the area.

  “Maxwell, what a surprise. I did not realize you were planning to attend.” It was a woman, middle-aged, with a thick head of red hair piled on top in a crown of curls. Her low-plunging gown revealed a more-than-ample bosom, and sitting right at the top of that deep crevice was a huge pink diamond necklace.

  Max bent over her hand in an unexpected display of gallantry. “My response must have gotten lost in the post,” Max said with a wicked grin.

  “Indeed,” the woman remarked, her own smile full of wit and charm.

  “Might I introduce you to Miss Sabine Tobias,” Max said. “She and her aunts are relatively new to London, and we’ve recently become acquainted.” Innuendo seemed to linger with his last word. Then he turned to Sabine. “The Duchess of Camden.”

  Sabine thought to correct him and further explain their relationship, but how many people would find it less offensive (if not unbelievable) for them to be embroiled in an ancient prophecy rather than a common liaison? So she said nothing other than to exchange pleasantries with the duchess.

  “Welcome. Come in and enjoy yourselves,” the woman said. Then she turned to greet other guests.

  As Max led Sabine off, he pulled her close to his side. “Her late husband was an avid antiquities collector. He bragged often about securing Achilles’ sword. Now we only have to locate it.”

  They walked arm in arm through the foyer. Halfway to the ballroom, they’d already passed two swords on display, hanging high on the walls. “How will we know which one it is?” Sabine asked.

  Max nodded to a couple as they passed by, but waited until they were out of earshot before answering. “It is rumored to be rather large and ornate. Forged by the gods, they say,” Max said with a smile.

  “Yes, of course.” She shouldn’t snicker. Didn’t she believe that the elixir she protected had been somehow handed to the Atlanteans by Poseidon himself? In actuality, she hadn’t ever given it much thought.

  The ballroom was empty, not of people, but of any weaponry. That was probably a good thing, considering how much champagne was floating about. It would be most disastrous if two gentlemen were to be angered by each other; having weapons handy could have dastardly results.

  “Did you want to dance before we look elsewhere?” Max asked.

  His simple and probably not-altogether-serious request gave her pause, causing her heart to flutter. She wasn’t certain she knew how to dance, at least not the way that proper English Society preferred. But now was not the time to indulge such frivolities. They had a task at hand, and the clock was ticking.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  They made their way to the second floor. The landing balcony overlooked the ballroom below. Couples moved together, swaying rhythmically to each pulse of the music. The band played a waltz, and the dancers held each other close, but more than a few openly caressed their partners or nibbled on a neck or an earlobe. She was quite thankful she had declined Max’s offer to dance.

  This was a slightly different crowd of London Society than those who’d shopped at her store. They were a little older, not necessarily in age, but in experience—perhaps wiser or more worldly would have been a more appropriate description. The women moved their bodies sensually as if they were used to lovers watching their every move. There were no shy virgins among them.

  Likewise the men openly viewed their women, not in sly glances, but in brazen appraisals. This was a different London than the one she’d seen. Max had warned her, but still it was surprising to watch. Everything she’d seen and heard about Society indicated that they valued propriety above all other things.

  “Sabine,” Max whispered from behind her. His muscular body was but a breath away from her own. It wouldn’t even take a full step for her to walk back into his arms.

  “Sorry, I…” But she stopped. What could she say? That she was caught by the sexual air thrumming through the party? That already she felt awareness flit through her body, so that her very nerves seemed to sit on the surface of her skin?

  “It’s a lovers’ party.” His voice brushed past her ear.

  She whipped around. “What?”

  He chuckled lightly. “I don’t suppose that is the official name, but that is what this is.” He ran his hand down her arm. “Ever since the duchess was widowed, she’s indulged in a rather unorthodox life.”

  “So now everyone here believes we are lovers?” Sabine said.

  “Absolutely.” He did little to hide the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

  “Splendid.” But they were. And did she truly care what any of these people thought of her? No, she didn’t. But she felt as if she should be incensed. Being here on Max’s arm filled her with pride rather than embarrassment. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He forced a frown. “Not even a little bit.”

  “Shall we find that sword?” She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

  “Of course.”

  They found a study with other collectibles, mostly vases and other pieces of pottery, but no weapons at all. The rest of the second floor was more of the same, but nothing that resembled a sword and no sign of the dove.

  “You didn’t seem to mind playing the part of my lover at the King’s Library,” Max said. “You scandalized that poor man.”

  At first, she’d thought he would mention last night. She’d been brazen, an utter wanton, and she didn’t want to examine why. She told herself it was because she was weary, exhausted from their futile search for the dove. But there were other reasons. She’d come to rely on Max, and last night when she’d so desperately needed comfort, she’d fallen into his arms.

  But he’d mentioned the library. “I was merely trying to prevent you from being arrested. If that man had cried foul, you would have been in serious trouble, handling the tablet that way,” she said. “It was a role I played. Nothing more.”

  He stopped in his tracks and eyed her. She searched his face for meaning behind his odd expression, but he gave her none.

  “Merely a role.” He said. “Onward to the next floor.”

  She nodded.

  Up the staircase to the third story they climbed. They passed a couple in a passionate embrace at the end of one darkened hallway. The man had his lover pushed up against a small table, her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Sabine and Max kept walking. One by one, they checked the doors until finally they stepped into a grand bedchamber. Large and elegantly decorated, it had to be the late duke’s personal room. Hanging above the bed was a grand sword. Gold from hilt to tip, it was elegantly carved, and as Max had predicted, quite large.

  “That’s it,” Sabine whispered. At last, they had found the dove. After traipsing across the whole of England, they had found their reward.

  In one swift movement, Max had climbed atop the bed. He held his hand out to her. “Here.”

  She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her to stand next to him on the plush mattress. Max kept hold of her hand as he led her to the headboard.

  The gold of the blade shimmered in the candlelight. The brackets holding the sword in place locked the treasure to the wa
ll. It was going to be slightly more challenging than simply sneaking it out of the house. They’d first have to figure out how to remove it from its mounting.

  Max tugged at the bracket, running his hand along the metal, looking for a catch. “Interesting. I can’t find any kind of lock mechanism.” He looked around the room. “I think I’m going to need something to break those off.”

  He jumped off the bed, then reached up to pull her down. She braced her hands on his shoulders as he brought her down to the floor. His movement was slow and intentional, placing her strategically between his arms, pressed against his chest.

  With one wicked grin, he leaned in and captured her mouth. His kiss was hot and needy.

  But she pushed against him. “Max, we shouldn’t,” she said.

  “I never have paid much attention to what one ought or ought not to do,” he said.

  She considered him a moment longer, knowing that more than anything she wanted to press herself against him and lose herself in his kisses and caresses. But she could not do that. Making love to Max didn’t change anything about the prophecy. And it didn’t make her forget anything. Quite the contrary, it flooded her mind and heart with dreams and wishes for so much more. Family and love, he could not and would not offer her. He’d said as much last night.

  “The fire poker,” he said.

  “Will that work to pry the brackets off?”

  He nodded, but said nothing as he went to retrieve the poker. Again he climbed onto the bed, this time armed to remove the brackets. It took several tries, but he was able to pop one of the brackets off the wall. There were four others. Max had placed the poker into the second one when they heard fumbling at the door. The knob turned.

  “Hide,” Max said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Max jumped off the bed and raced toward Sabine and the door she’d opened. He barely made it into the oversized dressing closet and closed the door behind them before the other people entered the bedchamber.

  Max leaned against the closed door with a heavy sigh and set the poker down. A gentleman’s voice, followed by a woman’s throaty giggles, filled the room and echoed into Max and Sabine’s hiding spot.