His words tugged at her heart, but she ignored them. He couldn’t offer, and she wouldn’t ask. “I don’t need anything else.”
She finished undressing him until he stood before her as God had made him. So handsome, so rugged, so perfect.
She wanted to touch him everywhere. She stepped away from him, but not far, and quickly removed her own clothing. Max’s eyes trailed the length of her naked body, his blue eyes turning the color of warm steel.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice raw with desire. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him so that their bodies pressed together. Flesh upon flesh.
His hands cupped her bottom, pressing her to him, pressing her into his erection.
She kissed him again, and this time he picked her up. Cradling her as he carried her to the oversized bed, he didn’t even pull the coverlet back; instead, he simply laid her on the velvety softness. She wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to get closer, to lose himself inside her.
It was all the encouragement he needed. With slow and steady movements, he entered her. The fullness of him felt so right, so exactly what she needed, what she craved.
His movements were deep and sensual, and her climax began to build almost immediately. Swifter and swifter, she climbed until she couldn’t hold it any longer, and the world seemed to shatter in a million glassy fragments all around her. She clung to his shoulders as the pleasures rocked her, and she was vaguely aware of his own climax as his abdomen tightened against her.
She lay sleeping, curled against his side, her breathing slow and even. Sabine was a passionate woman. It had been good on the train, but damn, that had been explosive and powerful. He caught sight of the small vial glistening between her breasts.
She had proof of Atlantis, and he’d seen it work. Twice now. She had it on that necklace she wore.
His gunshot wound had healed faster than some shaving cuts he’d endured, and then, after his injury in the bathhouse, she’d poured the elixir directly onto his wound, and it had healed almost instantly.
Marcus would be able to tell there was something unique about it. It would be the proof Max needed to borrow Marcus’s submersible boat. Then he would be able to locate the lost continent and see it for himself.
Max’s family was long dead and buried. That was a reality he’d accepted long ago. Only in his most maudlin moments did he let himself linger over regrets. His family would never know what he’d accomplished. They could never enjoy his success or acknowledge his achievements. It was the most bitter reminder of how solitary his position in the world was. Of course, he would always have the men of Solomon’s, men who could appreciate his success as intellectual equals.
And he would have Sabine in his bed. That would be enough for her and for him. It would have to be, because he could not give her his heart.
The following morning as they rode back into London, Sabine wanted to make certain they concentrated on the task at hand, that they didn’t get distracted by their night of lovemaking. He’d taken her a second time before they’d fallen into a deep sleep. When they’d awakened, it was to find their hostess had already left the house, but had readied a carriage for them as she’d promised.
Neither had spoken about the night before. It wasn’t as if she’d expected Max to fall to his knees and recite poetry or whisper proclamations of love. It wouldn’t matter if he had. They couldn’t be together.
She was Atlantean, and he was English. She could sit here and think of many reasons why she wanted to be with Max. But choosing him would be the same as walking away from her people, and she could never do that. Just as Agnes had chosen her duty over the desires of her heart, so would Sabine. Not that she loved Max, she didn’t, but she did desire him.
And he’d made it all too clear he was not looking for a wife. Not only that, but after watching her mother grieve for Sabine’s father, and now Agnes for Phinneas, Sabine knew that love only brought heartache.
This line of thinking would get her nowhere. They had a weapon to find, and if her aunts were right and her birthday had something to do with the timeline of the prophecy, then they only had four more days. He sat opposite her, his legs stretched in front of him, but completely avoiding contact with her. Did he regret last night?
The carriage jerked, and when it did, her bag slipped off the seat and was dumped onto the floor.
She knelt to pick up the contents. He leaned forward to help her.
“Here, you missed this.” He held a calling card out to her, but before she could grab it, he’d snatched it back. It was the card of the chemist who’d come into her shop a couple of days before.
He looked down at the card in his hand. “Bertrand Olney. Why does that name look so familiar?” He looked up at her. “Where did you get this?”
She frowned. “He came by the shop that day I went in. He’d handed me the card, and I guess I stuffed it in my bag. I’d forgotten all about him.”
“What did he want?” Max asked, suspicion sharp in his voice.
“He’s not the one we’re looking for,” she said. “He wasn’t strong enough.”
“I’ve seen his name.” He shook his head. “I can’t place it, though.”
“It’s nothing. He was a chemist; offered to buy the recipe for one of my products.”
“A chemist? That’s where I’ve heard of him. InTheTimes,” he said. “There was a story about how chemist Bertrand Olney had been murdered the previous night in his home. It did not appear to be a burglary.”
“What?” Sabine asked. “He was murdered.”