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.
CHAPTER10
Together they crept toward the back door. “Faster,” Max whispered. They had nearly reached 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 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: