The masculine clothes hung on her but did nothing to hide her feminine curves. Her waist might not be perfectly accented, but the trousers did not hide her rounded hips, and the suspenders held up the pants but highlighted her breasts. In the light of day, there was no way she’d pass for a man, but by the shrouded evening light, one might not notice with only a cursory glance.
She made her way out to the front of the inn and caught up with Max near the stable. As she stepped into the barn, the color drained from Max’s perfect face as he took in her new look. He visibly swallowed.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. She smoothed the fabric at her hips, then crossed her arms over her chest.
“There is a reason women wear dresses,” he growled. He shifted his stance. The stable boy also stood gawking at her. Max popped the boy on the back of his head. “Keep your eyes to yourself.” Then he turned and headed out the door.
The woman inside her wanted desperately to smile. Max was normally so charming, so smooth, she sometimes had difficulty seeing past the debonair role to the man beneath. Until this moment, she had not gauged the depths of his desire. She knew she had intrigued him, knew he wouldn’t say no to a dalliance. But she’d been uncertain if he craved her as she craved him, or if she’d merely been a convenience. Just now, however, she’d seen pure lust in his gaze. Desire pooled through her body in response.
But Agnes’s life was in danger. The Chosen One had stolen the elixir from both of the other two guardians, and Agnes had all that was left. Sabine could not afford to be distracted and risk failure in this quest. Firming her resolve, she waited by the gate until Max had collected the items from the stable boy.
The church sat at the very top of the cliff overlooking Lulworth Cove. Walking along the darkened road, all was quiet with only their breath and footfalls to break the silence. They began their climb and immediately she was thankful for the clothes Max had brought her. Her dress would have increased the challenge tenfold. The rocky hill would not be easy to navigate in sunlight. But with only a lantern and the moonlight, it was treacherous. As they climbed, the wind became so frigid, she might have frozen without the pants covering her legs.
The farther they climbed toward the church, the nearer they came to the coastline. Suddenly the wind picked up and wailed around them. The salt air brushed against her face, leaving a stickiness in its wake. Stray hairs escaped the confines of her bun and whipped around her face. The cottage she had shared with her aunts in Essex was near the ocean. The scent of saltwater brought a wave of nostalgia over her, and she found herself longing for the simple life she had led in their village.
Max carried the lantern and walked in front of her, holding his other arm behind him to help guide her along. His grasp was firm and warm, and she had no doubt that he would catch her if she stumbled. Still, she concentrated on her steps so she would not fall. The rocks and cratered landscape beneath her boots made the trek awkward.
Eventually they reached the top and found themselves on a trail that led toward the hollow ruins of the old chapel. The stones to their left sat in piles, as if the wall had simply melted into the earth. The grass, uncut for many years, stood long and reedy and clung to their pants as they made their way to the back of the churchyard. A rusted iron fence lined the cemetery and the aging gravestones.
“We’ll look here first and then go inside if we need to,” Max said.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“You tell me. You’re the one from Atlantis. If you see something that looks like it’s from your homeland, then we’ve found it.”
“That’s so helpful,” she said.
Waves crashed on the rocks below them. Because of the darkness, it was difficult to determine precisely how high up they were above the surging ocean below.
“You Atlanteans seem to favor cliffside coastlines,” he said. “I found the map in a cave at the base of a similar cliff.”
“I suppose that after they watched their homeland sink into the ocean, they wanted to be as high above the sea as possible,” Sabine said. “How did you know where to look for it?” she asked.
“Determination and a heavy dose of luck.” Max laughed. “I had learned about some of the early villages of the Atlanteans, and I went and spent an enormous amount of time in the pubs. Not to mention a hefty sum buying blokes drinks to keep them talking. One night I ran into the right fellow, and he said something so simple, he probably didn’t even know how important the information was.”
Because Max didn’t always act the part, she often forgot he was a scholar of Atlantis, someone who’d studied her people and their ways and had worked extremely hard to find their greatest artifact. There was something attractive about his dedication.
“What did he tell you?” Sabine asked.
“That people had never found the map because the cave disappeared. His words made no sense to me for a long time. But then I happened to be reading an old text and came across a reference to a certain cave that, because of the ocean’s tides, only appears every now and again. I tracked the tides and”—he shrugged—“well, we know how that one turned out.”
After stepping over the broken gate, Max asked, “What have you heard of this area?”
“Only what I was told in childhood stories. The first of my ancestors came to shore here, and they built this village.”
“So these people here”—he motioned to the graves surrounding them—“they are Atlanteans as well?”
She stepped over a broken tree limb that had fallen to the ground. “I believe so. The village changed a lot during the Crusades. But this,” she said, motioning to the dilapidated church to their right, “was always my people’s chapel.”
“A temple to Poseidon?” he asked.
She smiled. “No. A chapel just as any other in England would be.”
They continued walking through the cemetery, trying their best to avoid walking directly on the graves. The tombstones weren’t laid out in a grid, though, so that was a challenge. One moment, the wind whipped through the trees, shaking the leaves and emitting a low howling noise, and then it would settle and silence would shroud them. The combination added an eerie feel to the darkened night. Gooseflesh scattered up her arms, across her neck, and then down her body.
“We could get arrested,” she said, thinking of a recent article inTheTimesLydia had told her about.
“For what?” Max asked.
