Desire Me (30 page)

She swallowed, but said nothing in response. While Max took an impression of the entire inscription, she stood watching and
smiled sweetly at any passersby who happened into the room.

“Done,” Max whispered. He handed her the two sheets of parchment, which she tucked neatly into her bag.

“Let us be done with this place before we attract any more attention,” she said.

He nodded as he gently turned the tablet back to its original position. “Lovely piece,” he said to a lady and her two young
sons as they entered the room. Then he and Sabine made their way out of the library.

Their waiting carriage took them directly to Max’s home, and they made their way into his study. It was late afternoon, Agnes
was probably upstairs while Lydia and Calliope were still at the shop. Momentarily she felt
a pang of guilt for leaving them
to do the menial work when it had been her idea to begin with. But she had been set on this course, and she felt it was her
duty to stop the prophecy and protect Agnes.

He laid the pieces of parchment on his desk then read them aloud. “‘
Deception is deceiving
,’” he began, then finished the inscription, though it wasn’t very cohesive.

“Well, that doesn’t make very much sense. Are you certain you translated that correctly?” she asked. She came around the desk
to look for herself.

“It’s the first line,” he said.

She stared from one page to the next for several moments and again was struck by the familiarity. “Wait a moment.” She picked
up the first sheet and held it upside down. Then she smiled. “Do you have a mirror?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Trust
me
for a change,” she said.

He nodded. “This way.” He led the way out of the office and up the stairs. They went down a hall and then another until they
came to the end and entered a room.

“Is this your bedchamber?” she asked, still standing in the hallway.

“You asked for a mirror, and it was the first one I thought of.” He pointed to the full-sized framed mirror in the corner
of the room.

Even though it was a very large room, the massive bed commanded her full attention. Covered in the lushest of blue silks,
it beckoned to her as she breached the threshold. She quickly turned away and walked right up to the mirror. She turned over
the sheet of paper until it was upside down and the reflection shown in the mirror. “That’s it,” she said. She smiled broadly.

Max peered into the mirror and saw what looked to him to be upside-down Greek letters. “That’s what?”

“It’s written in Atlantean,” she said. “I don’t know how I missed that before. Hand the other one to me.”

He held the sheets to the mirror as she scribbled the translation into her notebook.

“So what does it say?” he asked.

“
Your task is nearly complete, and the reward is near. The dove is before you, if you have the right eyes to see
.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I have no idea.”

Spencer stood near the French doors enjoying the evening breeze while the music played and couples littered the ballroom floor.
His fellow guests jested and laughed about other men in Parliament or the latest scandal. On occasion, he’d nod and chuckle
to remind them he was participating, that he was one of them, even though he knew that wasn’t true.

He was better than every one of them, far more important. It mattered not that his title was lower, and his coffers might
not be as full. When it came to importance, he ranked at the top, and whether they realized that now or not had no bearing
on the truth. The truth would be revealed soon, and then everyone would know.

His signet ring weighed heavily on his hand, reminding him of his purpose tonight. He had not made any headway in locating
the third and final guardian. So he’d come out among Society tonight in hopes of uncovering that person’s identity. He had
very few clues, but he knew London was the correct location.

Spencer’s birthday was rapidly approaching, only three days away, and he had to complete the prophecy by then
or he would
fail. Two more generals and the final guardian and then all would be set.

“Pardon me,” he said to his companions; he could scarcely consider them friends. “I believe I’ll retrieve some refreshments.”
It was an excuse to roam the room and get as close to as many people as possible. The women were not the problem. He could
dance with any woman in the room. They’d respond to him, he knew that. He was a handsome devil, and women always craved his
attention. That and being her majesty’s faithful advisor usually ensured that he made a rather popular dance partner. But
he preferred situations in which he wouldn’t have to play the charming rogue and could instead be silent and focus on his
work.

The closer he got to the table and the crowd of women to his left, the more the ring glowed bright red. The guardian was here.
Only elixir caused his ring to blaze. Deftly he poured himself some lemonade—dreadful stuff, but it was the only concoction
available at the table. So he forced the drink down and poured more. Then he slowly walked toward a group of women standing
not too far away from him.

The redness deepened. A female guardian, that was something he hadn’t considered. He found himself searching the women’s faces
looking for some other sign. No doubt, she’d be beautiful. At least, he imagined she would be, and as he looked into the eager
expressions of the girls standing together—their desire for him to invite them to dance etched painfully across their faces—none
of them seemed particularly beautiful to him.

And the ring, while glowing, was not nearly as red or bright as it had been when he’d found the other two guardians. He didn’t
bother smiling at the women as he moved
around the perimeter of the room. Sitting in a tight clump directly opposite the band,
he found another group of women. Again they were all pleasant-looking, but not so much so as to stop him in his tracks. The
ring brightened, but the ruby-red color it had taken in the presence of the other guardians did not appear.

He took a slow walk along the open balcony, but discovered only couples hiding in darkened corners. As he made his way back
into the ballroom, he stopped as the color of blonde hair caught his attention. It was nearly white, it was so fair, and the
woman it belonged to was nothing short of exquisite. She was in the arms of an older gentleman, one he knew from some circles.
She laughed at something the man said, and the throaty sound purred up Spencer’s extremities.

“Behave,” she said, “you wouldn’t want my lover to get jealous.”

“Your lover, and who might that be?” the man asked.

“The Marquess of Lindberg. Maxwell and I have been together for years,” she said.

So she belonged to the marquess. Perhaps this was the woman whom Spencer had seen with Max at Phinneas’s cottage.

He waited until the dance was complete, then made his way to her side, champagne in hand. The closer he got to her, the deeper
the red shone in his ring. This was her. She had to be the third and final guardian.

“A drink?” He held it out to her.

She looked up at him from beneath long, kohl-covered eyelashes. “Thank you. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She held
her hand out to him, waiting for him to press the scandalously ungloved skin to his mouth. “Cassandra St. James.”

“Beautiful name,” he said as he kissed her warm hand.

“And do you have one?” she asked. “A name, that is?”

“I do. Walk with me.” It was not a request. Though Spencer sensed Cassandra was not a woman who took orders lightly, her curiosity
got the better of her, so she took his arm and together they stepped out of the ballroom.

Max said nothing more and instead turned his attention to pouring them each a glass of brandy. He handed Sabine the amber-colored
liquid, then downed his own glass. “At the moment, I’d like to find those ancestors of yours and throttle them. Damned riddles
and clues and dead ends,” he muttered.

“Agreed. There has to be another way to stop the Chosen One than to traipse all over the country breaking into people’s homes
and digging up graves.”

He poured himself another splash, then turned to find Sabine staring at him.

She boldly made her way over to him, took the drink out of his hand, and set it on the occasional table behind him. He said
nothing, merely kept his eyes on hers, as she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

“You told me not to start something I didn’t want to finish. Well, I’m starting something,” she said.

He didn’t wait for more of an invitation. His hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him, then he swept
his mouth across hers.

While they kissed, she ran her hands over his torso, tracing every muscle and hair with exquisite torture. He could not lose
control, he reminded himself. Tonight he would slowly indulge her every need.

“Sabine,” Max said, his voice ragged with his own need.

“I merely need to forget,” she whispered. “If only for a short while.”

The dead end they’d come to on the quest was wearing on her. She’d been through quite an ordeal over the last several days,
and her life had been threatened repeatedly. She deserved to forget for a moment that danger still lurked around the next
corner.

He moved to stand behind her, and while she held her hair out of the way, he unbuttoned her dress. Though there were only
twelve buttons, he took his time, kissing each new portion of skin as it was revealed. Then he slowly slid the bodice off
her shoulders and down her arms.

He stopped at her wrists, imprisoning her arms at her sides. He nibbled at her neck and the tops of her shoulders. Her soft
moans drove him wild, and he wanted nothing more than to bend her over and take her hard and fast. But she deserved slow and
patient and he wanted to give her that.

His hands went around and cupped her breasts over the thin fabric of her shift. Her nipples immediately hardened at his touch,
and they pressed against the cotton material. She rubbed against his palms. He caressed her breasts while he feathered hot
kisses across her neck. Her desire was palpable. Her breath came faster until she exhaled in a soft gasp.

She leaned her head back on his shoulder, an act so simple but so full of trust that it nearly knocked him over. He released
her arms, and immediately she reached behind her and ran her hands across his thighs. He pressed his erection against her,
loving the feel of her curvaceous backside.

He swept a hand softly down the side of her face. With as much tenderness as he could manage, he leaned in
and pressed a kiss
to her cheek, then found her mouth again. Raw need mingled with curiosity as he deepened the kiss. He needed her tonight as
much as she evidently needed him.

With one swift movement, he pulled the shift over her head, then removed the rest of her undergarments until she stood before
him completely nude save for her stockings and shoes. The sight of her long legs encased in those sheer stockings nearly sent
him over the edge.

“So perfect,” he said as he grazed her right breast with his thumb. He cupped her, and she closed her eyes against the sensation.
He went down on one knee and pressed kisses to her breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, then he suckled it into
his mouth.

“Max, please,” she said. Her fingers knotted in his hair.

“Do you want me?” He stood as he asked the question and looked directly into her eyes.

She swallowed, but her brown eyes never wavered. “Yes.”

“Say it.” For reasons he did not understand, nor wanted to, he needed to hear it from her.

“I want you.”

“Again,” he insisted. He closed his eyes and listened to her soft, sultry voice.

“I want you, Max.”

He moved past her then and yanked back the coverlet on his bed. The creamy sheets looked welcoming and soft as they always
did. But tonight was not a night for sleeping. Tonight was a night for loving.

She had been with other men, she’d all but admitted that. And it didn’t matter to him. Tonight he would make her forget that
any other man had ever touched her. After
this, she would remember only his hands, his mouth, his body.

Deftly he removed his own clothes, then walked to-ward her. She stood still beside the bed, and gently he picked her up and
set her on the mattress. He slid a hand up her right thigh and she sucked in a sharp breath. But he stopped at the top of
her stocking and rolled it down her leg, knocking off her shoe, then peeling the stocking off. Then he did the same with her
other leg.

The hair between her legs glistened with her desire for him. He nibbled at her inner thigh, laving kisses on her warm flesh.
Then he covered her center with his mouth. She was hot and wet, and her musky scent drove him wild. Her fingers threaded through
his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp.

He dipped his tongue in, and she bucked against him. He grabbed her hips to keep her still as he licked and suckled her folds.
That sensitive little nub got most of his attention, and Sabine’s fitful cries let him know her release was near.

And then she climaxed. She cried out his name again and again as she shook beneath him. Her hands fell away from his head,
and she lay there completely spent. But he was not done with her.

He crawled up beside her and kissed each breast and then her collarbone.

Still her breathing was labored, but she was smiling.

“Touch me,” he whispered. Then he moved her hand downward until her fingers brushed against him.

She encircled him with her hand. While she explored his body, his hand ran down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. He
cupped her, threading his fingers through her hair until he found that sensitive nub. He slid one finger
across her opening,
and she spread her legs farther, inviting him to touch her more.

Gooseflesh spread over her body, her nipples growing larger. She gripped him tightly, and he tossed his head back with a groan.
She moved even closer to him.