About this book
“Men always think they’ll be the one to lock me at home and fill my belly. The one to slip some gold on my finger so they might stand on the podium above all others, the champion of taming me.”
Athens, 1873. Three continents of gods, cultists, and monsters have had their way with Cordelia Delachatte. Her secretary, Mr. Jones, has put her back together after every one of them — and never once claimed his turn.
She dives through a gymnasium window and lands among oiled would-be Olympians who take turns serving her on the vaulting horse. Jones translates their praise, stroking ink-stained fingers over the leather beside her hip with the idle patience of a man who has all the time in the world. He never touches her skin. She feels him everywhere. When at last he stops translating and says Cordelia, she is undone.
Beneath the Parthenon, water nymphs worship her with sacred oil and soft mouths. They leave her aching.
A bronze mirror shows her a future. A cave waits on the hillside. And the amanuensis at her side since Cairo is done translating.
Worshipped on the Acropolis is the 11,000-word fourth installment of the Cordelia Delachatte, Victorian Lady Sexplorer series — for readers who prefer their history unbuttoned, their delights forbidden, and their secretaries far above their station.
