Desire Me (27 page)

“We know we can ignore all of the shields and armor and concentrate only on the knives and daggers and swords,” he said.

“Anything with a blade,” she said.

“Precisely.”

Max walked past samurai armor, horse armor—and it would seem an entire regiment of muskets—before he even found a glass case
with swords in it. There he
found them in several shapes, made of gold and silver and bronze and iron, but no sign of the
dove carving.

“I would think it would be Greek in origin,” Sabine said. “Or at least appear to be. That’s the closest civilization to Atlantis.”
She reached into her bag and withdrew a magnifying glass.

“Ancient Greek or older,” he said. He frowned and pointed at her hand. “Where did you get that?”

“From Calliope. I thought it might make it easier to find what we’re looking for. So far we’ve found the dove engraving on
a tombstone and the wall in the bathhouse, but those are both rather large in comparison to the hilt of a sword.” She shrugged.
“I wanted to be prepared.”

He smiled.

“Why, did you want to borrow it?” she asked. She held it out to him.

“I can see quite well on my own. I don’t need your lady’s tool to assist me.”

She braced her fists on her hips. “Let me know if you change your mind. You might run across another statue and need it”—she
waved the magnifying glass—“for a closer examination of the breasts.”

Max laughed quietly. “Carry on,” he told her.

They looked for over an hour and had only scoured half the room. Max had seen pieces from what he believed to be the Byzantine
Empire and perhaps even one of the early dynasties of China. Fascinating though the collection might be, he could see why
the men of Solomon’s had decided to remove Mr. Flynn from their roster. He was not interested in any particular legend or
myth, but rather was simply a collector of all kinds of weaponry. A fine hobby, but not the stuff of the legend hunters, as
some outsiders referred to the men of
Solomon’s. Also, he was known to use his collection regularly. The threat of violence
was more than enough to disqualify him. He’d been asked to leave the club and had subsequently left London, and as far as
Max knew, had never returned.

“Max,” Sabine whispered. “I think I’ve found something.”

He moved to where she stood, near one of the windows in front of a small display case. Inside was one single dagger, the hilt
carved with a crude rendition of a bird. Engraved on the blade was an inscription in Greek:
The Great army is commanded as the ten were done.

“That has to be it,” Sabine said.

Max eyed it carefully, then with his own much smaller knife, reached for the lock at the base of the display case.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice called from behind them.

“We’re in grave danger, sir,” Sabine began. “And we need this weapon.” She pointed to the dagger encased in the glass box.
“We will certainly return it when we are done.” It was probably futile to try to bargain with the man; he didn’t seem congenial
in the least.

“I don’t bloody well care if you’re the queen, you’re not getting my knife,” the man growled. He was tall, taller than Max,
though not as broad. His long, brown hair was scruffy and straggled past the man’s shoulders. His beard was full and gray
and covered worn, wrinkled skin that had seen far too many hours in the sun. Coarse wool on aged leather. “I found that one
myself, dug it up from beneath a castle in Gloucester. Nearly lost my leg, I did.” Then, as if he’d realized he was conversing
with them, he shook his rifle.

Max took a step forward. “Mr. Flynn, I can assure you—”

Flynn pointed his rifle directly at Max. His narrow eyes squinted until they were nothing but angry slits. “You’re one of
them, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Max said.

Sabine watched Max’s demeanor change. Gone was the seductive charmer she was used to, and in his place was a deadly calm protector
ready to negotiate and bargain their way out of this.

“From Solomon’s.” Flynn’s eyes narrowed, and he snarled. “They’ve always been after me. Did they send you for that piece in
particular or were you planning to take everything the two of you could carry?”

Max nodded slowly. “I am a member of Solomon’s, but that is the only reason I even knew of your name and your collection.
We were looking for a rare piece, but it doesn’t appear that you have it.” Max slid his hand into Sabine’s and pulled her
closer to him. “We are terribly sorry for bothering you at such a late hour.” He moved them closer to the door. “We’ll be
on our way now.” His smooth and steady delivery nearly convinced Flynn, or so it seemed. Max had even managed to direct Sabine
a couple of feet closer to the door.

Then Flynn shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. He held his gun steady, aimed directly at them. “This way. You walk
slowly and don’t try anything or I’ll shoot you first,” he said to Max, “then take my time with the girl and shoot her, too.”

Sabine swallowed and involuntarily squeezed Max’s hand, pulling it tight to her side. The warmth from his body offered no
actual protection, yet gave her a measure of comfort, though she realized that if this armed man
behind them chose to do just
as he said, they’d have little defense to prevent him.

“Keep walking,” he said. Eventually he closed the distance between them enough so that he could alternately press the end
of the rifle into Max’s back and then her own.

He marched them upstairs and into a bedchamber, where he shoved them inside. “I’ve already sent for the local magistrate.
I saw you creeping across the lawn and knew you were up to no good. But I waited to see what you would take. He’s on his way
to have you both hauled off to jail. I called for him first, so I can’t kill you myself,” he said, then slammed the door.
The lock turned behind them. They heard something large scrape against the floor, then bump the door.

“He’s braced it with a piece of furniture or something. I’m surprised he didn’t toss us into the dungeon,” Sabine said.

Max looked away from the door, where he was currently trying to dismantle the lock, and smiled at her. “Now wouldn’t that
have been an adventure.”

“Not one I would relish. I can assure you that,” she said.

“Check the windows,” Max said.

Sabine made her way to the opposite wall to the four windows. “They have bars on them.”

“Check to see if we can remove any of them.”

“If only you could have pocketed that dagger before he found us,” she said.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Max said, going back to the lock.

She checked the first set of bars, but they would not budge. “Why ever not?” she asked. “The prophecy states
that the dove
is the only way to stop him. How are we to do that with the blade locked up here?” She had to save Agnes.

“That wasn’t the correct weapon,” he said plainly. “I was not lying to Flynn.”

“Of course it was. It had a bird carved into its hilt. The same bird we saw in the cemetery and again in the bathhouse.” She
checked the next window and again found the bars immovable.

Max turned away from the door and walked over to her. “I know it looked as much, but it was merely another clue. Sabine, trust
me when I say it wasn’t the right one.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Wrong time period, for one. That dagger was Turkish, from the Ottoman Empire, far too young to have been something made in
Atlantis or at least made in the time of Atlantis.” He reached down and tilted her chin up. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t the
correct clue, though.”

For a moment, she forgot herself and allowed his sympathy to squeeze at her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes. More than anything
she wanted to lean into him, give herself over to the attraction between them, and for one night, forget the prophecy. But
she was afraid that if she gave in to him again, even one more time, she’d never be able to walk away from him. So she moved
to the next window.

The windows looked out over the front of the house, and she could see the circular drive off in the distance. The moon lit
the forested area lining the estate, and the grounds were lush and well landscaped. When she opened the final window, she
shoved on the bars as she had done on the others. This time, they moved.

“Max,” she whispered as she straightened. “These bars shifted. Perhaps we can somehow remove them.”

He sauntered over to her, then pushed at the bars. They moved some more. “Stand back,” he told her before he kicked at the
bars. They broke away and fell to the grass below. “We’re on the second floor.” He leaned out, looking at the ground. “It’s
quite a drop.”

She judged the distance herself. “The grass looks plush enough. And there are those rounded shrubs.”

He cocked one eyebrow.

“At least we are not on the third level,” she said.

“I could do it, but you might break something,” he said, then peered out the window again. “Several somethings.”

“What about you?” she asked. “If you can make the jump, so shall I. You’re certainly not going to leave me here alone.”

“I don’t suppose we have any other options. Unless we want to wait for the authorities and hope we can talk ourselves out
of a prison sentence.”

“But we did break the law. They won’t simply let us go. I don’t care who you are.” She shook her head. “I think we jump.”

“All right. I’ll go first and then I might be able to help you down easier,” he said.

It was those moments that annoyed her the most. Just when she’d about convinced herself that he was an utter cad, he’d do
or say something so gentlemanly that she knew no matter how much of a scoundrel he might be, there was a good man inside him.

“Very well,” she said.

He positioned himself in the window, but facing her. Deftly he sprang from the window, but his fingers remained grasping the
ledge. He was stretching himself
down so that the actual jump would be as short a distance as possible. Then he let go.

She looked out the window in time to see him land on his feet. He looked up and smiled at her, and that wicked smile stole
her breath. She suspected that Maxwell Barrett, like a cat, always landed on his feet.

“Come on,” he said into the darkness. “I’ll catch you.”

The amount of space between his outstretched arms and the window seemed enough for her to fall and break her neck. What if
she couldn’t bring herself to do it? What if she couldn’t jump?

The answer came for her in the form of footsteps in the hall, followed by male voices.

“I caught them in my display room,” Flynn said.

The furniture outside the door scraped against the floor. She glanced behind her just as the lock turned, then she closed
her eyes and jumped out the window.

Max caught Sabine, and the weight of her landing knocked them both to the ground.

“Look, down there,” Flynn yelled.

A man, presumably the magistrate, leaned out the window beside him. “Stay right there,” the man ordered. He pointed at them
and then disappeared from the window.

“Run,” Max said as he grabbed Sabine’s hand and quickly pulled her to her feet.

Fortunately, Sabine’s long legs afforded her the ability to keep pace with him as they made their way across the grounds toward
the main road. He scaled the wall, then pulled Sabine over. They ran into the woods lining the property.

Max could hear voices behind them, but they’d had a decent head start, provided the two men didn’t chase them
on horses or
in a carriage. They might be able to make it to the road and then get back to their own rig.

“Are they coming?” Sabine asked, her voice husky with exertion.

“Yes. This way.” He pulled her along, and she made no complaints as she followed closely behind him. “Our carriage should
be waiting just over this bluff.”

The voices behind them became louder, shouts actually, and Max realized that the men had, in fact, jumped into a carriage
to chase them.

Max and Sabine burst through the trees and onto the main road, but the rocks would provide no easier terrain for them to navigate
on foot. And their carriage was not there waiting. Had he gotten turned around in their escape and gone in the opposite direction?
He didn’t have time to figure it all out. Perhaps he’d misjudged the distance, and their rig was farther down the road.

“They’re getting closer,” Sabine said.

They fled as quickly as they could, but the noise of wheels grew louder, the horses’ hooves bearing down on them as they clopped
along the road. The carriage drove up beside them and pulled to a stop. But instead of the men who were chasing them, a familiar
voice came from the inside.

“Max, what a pleasant surprise. You and your friend”—the female voice stumbled over the last word—“seem to be in a pinch of
trouble. Might I be of assistance?”

“Cassandra, you have impeccable timing, as always.” Max helped Sabine into the carriage, and it rolled off into the darkness
in the direction opposite the men who pursued them.

“My country home is not far from here. I will be glad to offer you sanctuary for the night.” She smiled. “I take it
you had
a disagreement?” she asked, and a delicate brow arched over her right eye.

“Minor,” Max agreed.

“You always did have a knack for causing trouble.” Cassandra’s cool gaze fell to Sabine. “Aren’t you that girl from the shop
in Piccadilly? Having to resort to peddling your wares in the country now?” she asked, doing nothing to hide her acerbic tone.
Cassandra never did hesitate to show her claws when the mood struck her.

But Sabine did not allow the insult to affect her. Instead she held her head high and gave Cassandra a luminous smile. “I
am. I believe it might be time for you to purchase some more of my products.” Sabine touched her own smooth forehead, then
nodded in Cassandra’s direction.

Cassandra’s hand immediately moved to her own head to rub at the skin.

“I’d be happy to send you a few jars to any address,” Sabine offered.

Max wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. It would not help matters if Cassandra scratched out Sabine’s lovely eyes.