Chosen by Desire by Kate Perry Page B

profile, trying to find a hint of the treacherous, stealing female he knew her to be. But all he saw was purity. He gripped his sword so hard he could feel the steel protest.
    She looked back at him, a rueful smile flirting with her lips. “I’ve never slept so close to the ocean. I didn’t realize how loud the waves would be. I was conscious of them all night.”
    He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and pushed away concern. He hefted his sword in front of him, telling himself he didn’t need to feel concern for her.
    “Well, I guess I better head back in. I’m not getting paid to walk on the beach, am I?” she asked, pushing her hair from her face.
    “No, you aren’t.” He turned around, holding his sword in front of him as he closed his eyes and began to refocus his chi.
    Behind him, he felt a shift of energy and heard her gasp softly, close to him. Before he could turn, he felt the faintest brush on his shoulder blade.
    Over his birthmark—the broadsword-shaped mark of a Guardian. As fleeting as the touch was, he felt it deep. It cut to his core.
    Whirling around, he growled through gritted teeth. “What are you doing?”
    Carrie snatched her hand away. “I don’t know what came over me. I—um, that’s cool. Is it a tattoo?”
    Narrowing his eyes, he pinned her with his most intimidating look.
    She blinked, but—damn it—she held her ground. “Right. It’s a birthmark, then?”
    “I thought you were going to work?”
    “Yeah. On my way.” She offered him a tentative smile. “Can I expect you to join me—”
    “No,” he said curtly. Actually, he’d planned on working with her this first morning to observe her, to get to know her better. But now he needed to regroup. He could still feel the ghost of her fingertips—his mark pulsed with it.
    Disconcerting.
    “Oh. Okay.” Her smile faded and she took a step back. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”
    Max stood there, gripping his sword, watching her walk back to the house. He waited until she’d stepped up all the stairs and disappeared through the door before he gave a warrior’s yell, slashed his sword through the air, and launched into his form all over again. This time he fought Rhys—Rhys, who got to Carrie first.
    It took doing it three times before he felt a measure of his previous calm. Grabbing the shirt he’d taken off earlier, he wiped the sweat from his body. Shirt in one hand, sword tucked under his other arm, he strode to the house—with purpose. He needed to find Francesca. Now.
    As always when he needed her, she appeared moments after he entered the house.
    “Good morning.” Her eyes widened for a second as she looked at his bare chest, but when she lifted her eyes there was nothing in them to betray any hint of emotion. She gave him the cool smile she’d perfected in the years he’d been away.
    “Where is she?”
    A faint frown lined his assistant’s forehead. “Ms. Woods? She’s waiting for you in the library. I had Don take in a breakfast tray for the two—”
    “You go.” He strode to the staircase.
    “Excuse me.” Her rapidly tapping heels followed him across the marble. Even in her haste to catch up to him, she sounded perfectly cool. “I don’t understand. What do you want—”
    He stopped on the fifth step and faced her again. “What I want is for you to work with her.”
    No mistaking her frown now. “But I thought—”
    He gazed at her coldly.
    Visibly recoiling, she took a step back. “Of course, sir. Excuse me. I’ll work with her until further notice from you.”
    He nodded and ran up the rest of the stairs. With Carrie occupied, he could search her room, for both the texts as well as any clue as to what she and Rhys were planning.
    The thought of her plotting with Rhys should have been enough to kill the feelings she stirred in him. Should have been, but wasn’t. Probably the reason Rhys had chosen her. Rhys knew his weaknesses. Rhys had always known him better than Max knew