Scoundrel:. Zoe Archer

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      Lady Troublemaker wanted life, she hungered for it, embraced its messiness and chaos. The world was new to her, and she stood ready to receive it.

      How many men had she known? How many lovers? Not many, he’d wager. She had an air of untapped carnal potential, an eager student of sensuality. She could, with the proper guidance, surpass her teacher. And then, what a better world this would be, with such a woman in it.

      His cock, disappointed by the interruption at Elena’s, appreciated these images and stirred. Go back to your napping, Bennett ordered. Still, it was hard to forget her, even harder to ignore that strange, vivid moment when his fingers had touched her hand. In all his years, after countless encounters with a vast array of women, Bennett couldn’t recall ever having so visceral, so immediate a reaction to touching a woman. And it had gone beyond the physical, too. A sudden, profound connection with no known origin other than something in his body that recognized her, knew and needed her.

      Rot. He simply wanted a fuck, but he wasn’t going to get one. Not for a while. He was there for the Blades, which meant carnal appetites would have to go unsatisfied until the mission was complete. That clumsy bull Fraser showing in the marketplace proved that the Heirs were truly in Greece.

      Bennett reached into a hidden pocket in his jacket. He pulled out a heavy, old compass and considered its face, four blades marking each direction, a rose at the center. More than a means of finding direction, it resonated with ancient secrets and sacred promises. All Blades knew one another by this Compass. He used it to guide him back to his home base in Athens. It was time to get down to business. There was dangerous work to be done.

      Chapter 2

      Unexpected Connections

      “I expected you a half an hour ago,” Athena Galanos said as Bennett entered the study. She sat at a heavy table, books and papers strewn about in an abstruse system only she could understand. A servant entered the room with Bennett, lighting lamps against the oncoming dusk.

      Bennett went to the large pedestal globe in the corner of the room and spun it on its axis. Continents and countries whirled. When the servant came forward with a glass of Muscat, he murmured his thanks and sipped at the wine. Dry and clear, it slid down his throat. Athena always had a fine cellar, but it was to be expected. Her family was one of the oldest and most esteemed in Athens, with a large and elegant house at the base of the southern slope of Lycabettus Hill. The Galanos women had been active as Blades in Greece, well before the country won its independence, in a tradition of honor that passed from mother to daughter. The name Galanos was passed on the female side, since they never gave birth to sons, and saw men merely as means by which the line could continue. Their lovers seldom lasted more than the time it took for the getting of a child. A sophisticated, matriarchal coven on the shores of the Aegean, which Bennett appreciated, being enamored of the whole female race.

      “Got a little caught up in something,” he said.

      Athena raised one dark brow. “And how did the husband feel about that?”

      “The usual histrionics. Had a nice little chase through Plaka. Very bracing.”

      She peered closer at him. “I don’t see any wounds.”

      Bennett placed a hand over his chest. “Just my heart, dear lady.”

      “Of all your organs,” she said, “it is perhaps the most resilient.”

      “But I did get this,” he continued, taking the manifest from his pocket and tossing it to her.

      Athena grabbed it from the air, and began to rifle through the pages. “So your appetite for information was satisfied, at least.”

      He grinned, but decided not to mention the English lady from the marketplace. He wasn’t sure what he would tell Athena, anyway. That he’d met an exceptionally pretty, intelligent woman whose simple touch affected him, in more ways than the physical? Athena knew Bennett well and would likely laugh at his description of the encounter. He did give his heart easily—though it was nothing compared to the freedom with which he gave his body—yet his heart was boundless and nigh incapable of tapping its supply of affection and desire. He never feared exhausting himself on one woman. True, this meant that he hadn’t the capacity for longer, more serious commitments, but this proved no impediment. His lovers always knew he would leave. He was open about this, and they accepted him as he was. Would the English lady from Monastiraki feel the same way?

      He found himself revisiting the delicate precision of her face, her musical, slightly husky voice, the combination of freshness and experience that shone in her coffee-colored eyes. Mostly, he was struck by her intense hunger for experience. She was probably a widow, and, if so, then her poor, dead husband was to be pitied for leaving behind so delicious a wife who wanted to devour the banquet of the world.

      He grew serious as he focused on more immediate concerns. “Saw Fraser in Monastiraki.”

      Athena looked up from the manifest. “Who was with him?”

      “He was alone, or so it seemed.” He leaned against the bookshelves, one booted foot over the other. His and Athena’s work as Blades was to protect magic and keep it safe from those sodding Heirs of Albion, who thieved magical Sources from around the world for a nefarious, empire-building agenda. Blades were always vigilant where Heirs were concerned, always dogging their steps to keep the Sources safe.

      “And did he see you?”

      “No, I got out before he spotted me.” Bennett held his glass of wine up to the light, watched it shimmer and glow, before draining it and setting it on a shelf. The spine of one book read, in Greek, The Practical Art of Spellcasting, or, a Woman’s Guide to Thaumaturgy. Typical reading for Athena.

      She nodded. “That is fortunate. We need to keep our presence from the Heirs hidden for as long as possible.”

      “Wasn’t able to follow him, though. The owner of the manifest popped by for a chat.”

      “And?”

      “I let my fist do the talking. That shut him up. But by then, Fraser was gone.” And the delectable Englishwoman was gone, as well.

      Taking the manifest, Athena pushed back from the table and walked toward the window, with its magnificent view of the Parthenon and the city that shared her name. All women in the Galanos family were named Athena, possessing an aristocratic and dark Greek beauty that rivaled the Caryatides, but to Bennett and the other Blades, this Athena was foremost a capable colleague that should never be underestimated.

      “Divine for us, goddess,” he said to her. “Urgent matters are afoot.”

      She peered at the manifest. “I see Fraser’s name here. And Joseph Edgeworth.”

      Bennett swore softly as his eyes met Athena’s. “Joseph Edgeworth isn’t a field man. He’s too high up, too important.”

      “But now the Heirs have the Primal Source,” Athena noted. “With it in their power, all other Sources will be under their control.”

      “So they’re pulling out all the stops. They’re even sending one of their most valuable and respected men out in search of more Sources.” He shook his head at the implications.

      Athena looked back down at the manifest. “I see here that Edgeworth and Fraser are СКАЧАТЬ