He slipped one finger inside her; slowly he began his rhythm. Her pleasure mounted as he moved his finger within her. He found the nub beneath her folds and stroked across it. Her mouth fell open, her eyes squeezed shut, and she arched toward him.
Closer and closer, he brought her to the edge, then pulled back. She was fascinating to watch. Undoubtedly, she was the most passionate woman he’d ever touched, and he longed to be inside her. His own desire was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. So he kissed her deeply, then leaned back as best he could to watch her climax.
His finger dipped in again as he flicked across her folds. She tightened around his finger as the pleasure shot through her. “Yes,” she whispered. Her head pressed into the pillow behind her. “Yes.”
Quickly he unfastened his trousers and guided himself into her before her climax subsided. She sucked in her breath and opened her eyes. He found himself lost in their amber depths as he pushed himself deeper into her. Oh, God, she felt good. Hot and tight and so slick.
Her climax started again, and her walls squeezed around his shaft as he increased the depth of his thrusts. And then as his own release rocked through his body, he released a primal moan and collapsed atop her.
Sabine listened to Max’s even breathing as he lay next to her on the small cot. She could still feel the effects of their lovemaking on her body. Her flesh seemed to quiver every time she closed her eyes and remembered the sensations of their coupling.
She had thought she could indulge with Max. Have a brief affair, then go back to her life as it was before she’d met him. But this… His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his warm breath on her bare neck. Lying here with him only made her think of what it would be like to live like this every day. To wake up in the arms of a man you loved.
Of course, she didn’t love Max. She barely knew him. Still, something powerful had happened between them today. Something she’d never experienced before. Perhaps she could pretend that Max wasn’t the sort of man she could fall in love with. But hadn’t today proven otherwise?
And what of the fact that he was English and she Atlantean? That mattered. Certainly, some Atlanteans had left their villages and conformed to the English ways. But she was the daughter of a guardian; that should matter.
She needed to keep her wits about her, because she risked her heart as well as all her family’s secrets.
CHAPTER9
Several hours later, they finally arrived in Cornwall. They had successfully hidden from the men for the remainder of the train ride. Max and Sabine exited the train with the throng of people from their car, hoping they’d blend in. So far, they had not seen the men again.
Max hired a hackney to take them to the address Lydia had written down. The address Phinneas, the guardian, called home. Sometime during the night, when neither of them had been able to sleep, Sabine had explained that three ships had fled Atlantis during their Great War, each carrying a guardian. During the turmoil and confusion of the exodus, the ships had become separated. Each had landed in a different location in Great Britain. It had taken many generations for all of the Atlanteans to find one another, but once they did, the elders had kept communication open between the groups.
The carriage ride from the train station to Phinneas’s house did not take long, because he lived close to town. The village was small, containing only a cobbler’s shop, an inn and tavern, and a few cottages scattered about the hillsides.
Max kept waiting for Sabine to speak about what had happened on the train ride, but so far she made no mention of their interlude, which suited him. She was nothing more than a delectable diversion. He wouldn’t lie; it had been amazing, and he would find a way to get her back into his bed.
The rig stopped, and Max wasted no time in getting down, then assisting Sabine. As they approached the small thatched-roof cottage, the hairs along his neck rose. The door, though closed, hung from one hinge. It was a cheery place with brightly colored flowers everywhere. Still, the aesthetics did nothing to stave off Max’s wariness. Something was wrong.
They walked up the dirt path to the front door, and as he knocked, the door creaked open.
“Stay behind me,” he said. He withdrew his pistol and led the way into the small cottage.
Phinneas’s home had been ransacked. The chairs near the fireplace lay overturned, and the contents of the cupboards were now scattered about in broken pieces on the floor.
“Phinneas,” Sabine called, her voice wavering. No answer.
She took a shaky breath.
“We need to look around,” Max said, trying to reassure her. “He might be out.”
There was no sign of him downstairs, so together they climbed to the top floor. They found nothing more than a small bedroom with a bed, washbasin, and armoire. Phinneas lived a simple life, though it would seem a solitary one.
“He’s not here,” Sabine said. “Perhaps he received Madigan’s letter and already made his escape.”
Perhaps, but Max had his doubts. He led the way back downstairs and then out the back door to the garden area.
Again, Sabine called to Phinneas, and again there was no answer.
They walked deeper into a garden filled with more flowering plants as well as vegetables. It was well tended, with a fence around the area.
Up ahead, sticking out from behind a large tree, were some worn boots, and they appeared to still be attached to a body. Max held his arm out to stop Sabine from walking farther. “Wait here.” He moved closer to investigate.
Sabine ignored his instructions and followed closely behind him. Lying on the ground behind the tree was, in fact, a man. The body was contorted in an awkward position, as if in the last moments of life, his muscles had all simultaneously convulsed and he had collapsed in severe pain.
“He matches the description Agnes gave me,” Sabine said.