Her hands clasped his shoulders as she opened to the kiss. Her eagerness and greedy passion fueled his desire, and he pulled her onto his lap. He deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth.
His hand dipped into the bodice of her dress and cupped her breast. She leaned into his touch, and the tip hardened beneath his palm. Hot, thick desire surged through him, pouring into his groin. His erection pushed urgently against his trousers. He moaned into her mouth.
And then the carriage rumbled to a stop, but Sabine didn’t move, so he continued kissing her, caressing her, tantalizing her. The driver tapped on the door.
Sabine sat up abruptly, then pulled herself off Max’s lap. She swiped at her mouth but would not make eye contact.
“Sabine,” he began.
But she leaped from the carriage and was up the steps to his house before he could finish. Which might have been for the best, because for perhaps the first time in his life, he had no idea what to say.
Johns stepped into the carriage Cassandra had waiting a block away from the British Museum.
“Well, did you find out anything?” she asked.
“They’re leaving tonight to see some man,” Johns said. “Mortimer Flynn. That’s all I heard. That Scottish bloke looked in my direction one too many times. I didn’t want to get nabbed.”
“Truly?” Cassandra asked, not believing her good fortune. “Mr. Flynn lives only four miles away from my country estate. I think it might be time for some refreshing air away from the bustle of London.”
CHAPTER16
Graeme’s suggestion had been a good one. Mortimer Flynn, a former member of Solomon’s, was said to have one of the largest and most extensive collections of unique weapons in Great Britain. It might be another futile search, but perhaps luck would be on their side. Flynn’s estate was a two-hour drive from London, and exhaustion overcame Sabine during the ride. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days, and no doubt it was wearing her down. As the carriage rumbled to a stop, Sabine awoke.
Sabine looked weary, but so beautiful. Her hair was rumpled, and she had a hand imprint on her cheek from her nap. Still, she stirred him.
“Where are we?” she asked, peering out the small carriage window.
He climbed down from the carriage and held his hand out to her.
“In Kent at the weapon collector’s estate,” Max reminded her. She’d evidently slept so deeply in the short period of time that she’d forgotten their destination.
“Oh, right. And this man, you and your Scottish friend know him?”
Max looked out the window. “Not precisely.”
“Not precisely?” she repeated. “What does that mean?” She looked around at their surroundings, trees lining the small road. “Why did we not pull into his drive?”
Max took that exact moment to check his pistol. Her eyes widened as she eyed his gun.
“He used to be a member of my club,” he said.
“You’ve never met him, though.”
“No, he was gone long before I joined.” He shrugged. “But I know of him,” Max said.
“And you think that small affiliation will grant us an invitation into his home?” The pitch of her voice rose.
“Of course not.” He moved closer to a tree. “We don’t need an invitation.”
She followed. “Why is that?”
“We’re going to go in unannounced and look around.” He peered through a clearing in the trees. Flynn’s house sat straight ahead of them, though they’d have to maneuver through the remainder of the trees and scale a stone wall to get onto the property. Then it would be a matter of finding the right door.
“Do you ever go in through the front door with an actual invitation?” she hissed. “I should have known you were planning something like this when we left London at such a late hour.”
“We need the weapon, do we not? Do not worry, he’ll never even know we were here,” he said.
They moved along the shrubbery, careful to conceal themselves in the darkness. The grand estate before them swept across a hillside, staking a clear claim on all the land below. The gray stone looked dark and menacing in the night sky. Ivy crept up, covering one entire side of the building.