Scoundrel by Zoe Archer

Author:Zoe Archer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781420106800
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2010-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The New World

Though it had its moments of darkness, the day had unfolded in a series of small pleasures. She’d swam in a stream. Heard a genuine example of the Samalian-Thracian dialect. Felt the sun on her bare skin. Shared a meal with fishermen as their boats swayed at anchor, sung with them their songs. Watched Bennett dance, movements so potently masculine she was surprised she hadn’t simply climaxed on the spot from merely observing him.

She had wanted to experience the world, and here she was, deeply enmeshed in life. It wasn’t all joy. Her father was out there, searching for her. The Heirs chased the Source, wanting to claim it for their own ruthless agenda. She still had no idea, if she should survive this mission, what would become of her afterward. Without a man controlling her life, away from the rules and structure of society, London was entirely free. Which meant there was nothing between her and the sheer drop into disaster. Nothing but herself.

She alone guided her toward whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was Bennett.

London pressed a hand to her chest as if her heart threatened to spring forth. It might. Beside her, Athena slept, still recovering. After the meal and music, the witch’s energy flagged, and London had taken her below to rest, then stayed with her to ensure her friend’s comfort. Athena quickly fell into a hard but honest sleep, but London, full of the day, could not find her slumber.

London heard Bennett, Kallas, and the fishermen above deck, their voices low and masculine, as they boasted and told jokes that women shouldn’t hear. She heard their laughter, Bennett’s especially, and at the sound of him, slick heat gathered between her legs.

She bit down on her lip, stifling commingled excitement and trepidation. London hadn’t even made love with Bennett yet, but she would. Even this agonizing anticipation filled her entire being with acute sensitivity, a reckless, giddy joy. London Edgeworth Harcourt, ornament of polite society, was no longer. A new woman was taking her place, one who chose her own path and took men of her own selecting.

After she and Bennett had rejoined the company, there had been more music and stories and camaraderie, but there was anything but simple platonic friendship between her and Bennett. No one said anything about it. Yet, despite the tact shown by all, there was no denying the atmosphere of sensual possibility that turned the air thick and tangible. Bennett did not help matters. He stared at her all through the evening as if she were the dessert he planned to savor. London sported a continual blush, knowing she was flushed everywhere, even beneath her clothing.

There was no room for fear or embarrassment, only a ready willingness to embrace sensation and experience. She would touch Bennett and he would touch her, and she would enter a new world.

A brief consultation with Athena before that voyage. The witch had given London a foul-tasting tonic, the Galanos women’s secret to preventing conception.

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