Part 24 (1/2)

He had never been pale, but life on the sea turned his skin golden, so in the contrast, his eyes were as clear and blue and warm as the waves that lapped at the beach. It was easy to see his Greek blood now in his gilded skin and dark hair curling and ruffled in the wind. She watched as he scaled a small, rocky hill, his body sleek, never showy in its motion, but possessing both economy and art. Only today, she had seen the beauty of him, the efficiency of his strength, running like a myth across the surface of the water, and his skill with a rifle-never bloodthirsty, but precise and sure.

Now she watched the firm muscles of his legs as he climbed, and every so often, a fortuitous breeze came along and lifted the tails of his jacket so she was treated to a view of his edible backside. She had, during their nighttime trysts, felt those muscles tighten under her hands as he plunged into her hungry body, and their slickness as sweat covered both London and Bennett in their frenzy. The vivid memory sent a fast stab of need blazing through her. Last night felt very long ago.

When he reached the top of the hill, he looked back, and, at London's wave, smiled and waved before striding off to scout the island.

”You look at him as if he is the last bottle of wine left in the world,” Athena said dryly, standing beside her.

London barely blushed. She was now very familiar with her desire for Bennett. ”I am a woman of exceptional thirst.”

”And will it be quenched, that thirst?”

London glanced over at her friend, considering. Her body still hummed with unallayed need for Bennett. It knew him now, and wanted him always. He'd been the match to her tinder. She could not douse the fire he had lit. How long would it last, this flame of need? She almost prayed it was soon, so, when the time came for their inevitable parting, the pain would not be too great. But she knew, deep within herself, that this hope was futile.

Athena saw her answer in London's face, and sympathy softened the witch's expression. ”Perhaps you are sorry.”

”Not at all,” London said immediately. ”I'm glad I was given this chance and I took it, no matter what happens after.” She looked over at Kallas, who had made himself comfortable on a large rock farther down the beach and was smoking his pipe in the afternoon sun, his eyes closed. He was a handsome man, rough like the coast, but possessing his own craggy charms.

Athena followed London's gaze, then frowned. ”That man,” she said darkly. ”I should push him overboard.”

”I'm sure he can swim.”

”But I cannot.”

”If you want to get wet,” London said, with a smile, ”take the plunge.”

A glimmer of humor sparkled in the witch's dark eyes, then rare uncertainty creased her brow. ”And if I drown?”

London understood that uncertainty. ”Galanos women won't drown. They always learn to swim.”

Before Athena could respond, Bennett reappeared at the crest of the hill, his teeth white as he grinned with excitement. ”Come and see,” he called down to them. ”Kallas, you, too. Stop sunning yourself like a lizard.”

The captain grumbled, but soon everyone climbed the hill and was following Bennett through the shaded forest carpeting the island. Sharp and clean, pine needles scented the air. Even though Bennett had only just scouted the terrain, he held the lead as if born to do so, a.s.sured in his stride, never once hesitating or stumbling.

”A little treat for us weary travelers,” he said, coming to a stop in a clearing. He waved toward a small, bubbling pool. The water was so clear, London could number each and every pebble lining the pond.

Bennett smoothly knelt on one knee beside the pool and dipped a hand into it. He drank the water cupped in his palm, droplets escaping between his fingers to sparkle in the light. He resembled some forest G.o.d, a creature of darkness and suns.h.i.+ne.

”Sweet and cold,” he said with a laugh.

London had not realized how thirsty she was until she saw s.h.i.+mmering drops of water cling to Bennett's neck and slide beneath the open collar of his s.h.i.+rt. She came forward, then sank to her knees to also drink from the pool. Just as Bennett had said, the water's icy sweetness rolled down her throat, sending bright clarity into her belly. She scooped up handfuls of water and drank deeply, also letting the water run along her neck as some spilled from her hands.

Her hands stopped in midair as she caught Bennett's hot, hungry gaze on her.

”Woodland nymph,” he rumbled for her ears alone.

She only smiled at him, but it was a smile of wicked invitation. Even though it had been many hours since the danger at the strait, her still body held a shuddering hunger for release, release that only Bennett could provide.

But that release would have to be delayed, for a little while longer. London made herself look away, at the pool, the trees, anything but Bennett, otherwise she'd launch herself at him right here and now, in front of Kallas and Athena. She felt much more free, that was true, but not so free that she wanted to make love with Bennett with an audience watching.

After Kallas and Athena had also drank their fill from the pool, Bennett rose gracefully. London did notice, however, him slightly adjusting his trousers, and she bit down her smile. At least she wasn't alone in this enormous, unshakable desire. ”There's more to see,” he said, and disappeared into the woods.

When she, Kallas, and Athena caught up with him, they all stood and marveled. Set in another clearing, ruins glowed like ivory in the pine-shaded enclave. Several Doric columns lined up in varying states of erosion, forming the supports of what had been the roof. Lichen and years wore at the marble columns' fluting. But the ruins' isolation had been its boon, for one of the pediments still stood, supported by the columns, though the figures carved into it were barely visible.

Stones set into the ground formed the ruins' floor, and resting heavily upon it was a large marble block, waist-high, and wide around as a dining table. Some gra.s.ses sprouted between cracks in the block. Nearby, the remains of a statue of a woman lay half buried.

”What is this place?” London breathed.

”A temple,” said Athena. She examined the pediment. ”Dedicated to the pool. A sacred spring.”

”Like Bath in England,” Bennett murmured.

Athena waved a hand. ”That is Roman,” she said, dismissive of the entire empire. ”This is Greek, and much older. For the G.o.ddess Demeter.”

”Perhaps we shouldn't disturb it,” ventured Kallas. He seemed slightly less in command on land than on the sea, glancing around with caution.

”The G.o.ddess wants people to make use of her temple and her spring,” said Athena. ”It pleases her.”

”Then, by all means,” said Bennett, his eyes blue fire as he gazed at London, ”let's please the G.o.ddess.”

Many things sharpened one's appet.i.te. Obviously, going without food was one of them. But there was also the aftermath of danger which could hone one's hunger until sharp and keen. Bennett, in his work for the Blades, often found this to be the case. Most missions would have him face death, and he always emerged from those battles famished in more ways than one. That time near Tripoli, after he and Catullus Graves had gone up against a sand djinn under the Heirs' control, Bennett had eaten platters of chicken stewed with dates, piles of fragrant couscous, and mountains of sweet almond biscuits, all washed down with many gla.s.ses of mint tea. After that substantial meal, Bennett had spent the rest of his evening disporting himself in a house of pleasure, exhausting several highly appreciative dancing girls before he finally succ.u.mbed to satiety.

A sybarite, Catullus had called him, but not without a little admiration. Poor Catullus, a man of abstemious inclinations save where his inventions and his wardrobe were concerned. Food and women did not much capture Graves's interest, not when there were so many ideas for diabolical devices rattling around in his brain, and so few truly fascinating women who could genuinely capture his interest long enough to look up from his workbench. And the man was addicted to waistcoats.

Bennett was most definitely not Catullus. His needs were not complicated. He was a cryptographer for the Blades, but found his greatest pleasures not in papyri or codices but in the flesh. Action. Movement. Food. s.e.x.

Today, he'd sailed through a strait riddled with traps, then played sniper at an advancing Heirs' gunboat. Even if London hadn't been nearby, his body would have been demanding gratification. But having her beside him, seeing how close she she had come to danger, turned him into a beast he could hardly control. His need for her went far beyond his usual inclinations. If he'd had to, back in Tripoli, Bennett would have been able to suffice with a small meal and going straight to a solitary bed. had come to danger, turned him into a beast he could hardly control. His need for her went far beyond his usual inclinations. If he'd had to, back in Tripoli, Bennett would have been able to suffice with a small meal and going straight to a solitary bed.

Watching London sit, bare feet dangling over the deck of the caique as Kallas taught her to fish, Bennett knew that if he didn't make love to her that night, if not sooner, he would lose his mind. He'd been hard and hot as newly forged iron since they'd left the strait, a condition that had not diminished one iota in the intervening hours. And it was because of her. Lovely, courageous, fiendishly clever, and open to the world's experiences.

He needed inside of her. Physically. Mentally. However he could. Right now, he would be satisfied only by everything.

Dinner on the beach at sunset. Roast fish caught by Kallas and London. Wild greens picked by Athena. The meal could not go fast enough. Bennett wolfed down his food like a man breaking a fast. He hardly tasted anything. His mouth wanted only her flavors. He could barely speak during the evening conversation, reduced to monosyllabic replies. In the light of dusk, her hair golden, her eyes dark, laughing and talking, London could not be more beautiful, more desirable.

And when her gaze caught his, the responding fire he saw there, Bennett felt sure he'd go up in flames and burn the island around him.

Finally, finally, when the meal was done and the last drops of wine drunk, London rose from their gathering. Bennett leapt to his feet, not caring if Athena laughed at him or Kallas scowled at how readily he showed his need for London.

He held out a hand to her as they moved away from Kallas and Athena. ”Let's walk.” His voice was no more than a growl, sounding from somewhere low in his chest.

”A walk sounds perfect,” she said. ”I want to explore the island some more.”

”Don't want to explore explore,” he rumbled. ”Not the island, anyway.”

With a small, timeless woman's smile, she danced up the beach, toward the hill that led into the interior of the island. ”But I I do. There's still that treasure to find.” do. There's still that treasure to find.”