He could seduce her. He knew she’d respond to his touch, and damned if he didn’t want her. But touching her now could be mistaken as sympathy. No, he just needed to get some sleep.
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 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.