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Swordsman's Legacy (Rogue Angel #15) Mass Market Paperback – November 11, 2008


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Product Details

  • Mass Market Paperback: 317 pages
  • Publisher: Gold Eagle; First Paperback Edition edition (November 11, 2008)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0373621337
  • ISBN-13: 978-0373621330
  • Product Dimensions: 6.6 x 4.3 x 0.9 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 2.4 ounces
  • Average Customer Review: 3.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (11 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,567,011 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

France, present day

Ascher Vallois unlocked the trunk of his car. The hydraulics squeaked as the trunk yawned open. He was ready for a new car, but given the finances, the ten-year-old Renault Clio would have to serve.

He set a practice épée and mask onto the trunk bed. Tearing the Velcro shoulder seams open on his jacket, he then tugged that off.

Wednesday afternoons demanded he wear the leather-fronted plastron. The teenage students he taught were overly confident about their lunges. Actually, they thought themselves indestructible. They didn't give consideration to their teacher's destructibility. That was why he also wore a full mask. The scar on his jaw had been a lesson to ensure he wore complete protection around kids at all times.

Tomorrow he planned to bring his collection of instructional videos to the studio. The students could learn the importance of a well-designed weapon from watching a master forge a blade. As well, there was much to be gained from watching fencing masters in competition.

Ultimately, he wanted to have a camera set up in the studio so he could record students, and then play back their practice matches for them to study. The best way to learn was by observing your own bad habits and then correcting them.

All things in good time, he told himself. And if his latest expedition proved successful, the aluminum fencing piste he'd been dreaming about could become reality. It was wireless, which would be more practical for movement and scorekeep-ing, considering he hadn't the cash to hire an assistant.

He slammed the trunk shut. It was well past sunset, yet a rosy ambiance painted the horizon, reminding him of a woman's blush. An autumn breeze tickled the perspiration at the back of his neck, drying his sweaty hair.

The noise of traffic from the main shopping stretch had settled. Sens had relaxed and let out its belt. The citizens of the French city were inside restaurants chattering over roasted fowl and a bottle of wine, or at home watching the nightly news or shouting at the quiz shows.

Shoving a hand in his pants pocket, Ascher mined for his keys, but paused. A tilt of his head focused his hearing behind him and to the left.

He was not alone.

Swinging a peripheral scan, he paused only a quarter of the way through his surroundings.

Standing at the front left corner of the Clio, a tall thin man with choppy brown-and-blond hair rapped his knuckles once upon the rusted hood of the vehicle. A silver ring glinted, catching the subtle glow from an ornamental streetlight up the street. Small bold eyes smiled before the man's mouth did.

Ascher felt the salute in that look. A call to duel. The foil had been raised with a mere look. He stood in line of attack.

From where had the man come? This narrow street was normally quiet, save for the business owners who parked in the reserved spaces where Ascher now stood.

Suddenly aware that others had moved in behind him, Ascher stiffened his shoulders but kept his arms loose, ready. He jangled his keys. A tilt of his head, left then right, loosened his tensing muscles.

The air felt menacing, heavy, as if he could take a bite out of it.

The smiling man offered a casual "Bonsoir."

Wary, yet not so foolish as to leap into a fight—this may be nothing more than a man asking directions—Ascher offered a lift of his chin in acknowledgment.

"Mr. Vallois, I am a friend," the man offered.

His French accent wasn't native, and he looked more Anglo than European, Ascher thought. A dark gray suit fit impeccably upon a sinewy frame. Probably British, he assumed from the slim silhouette of the man's clothing.

He knew his name? Caution could be a fencer's downfall. Confidence and awareness must remain at the fore.

"I have many friends," Ascher said forcefully, lifting his shoulders. "I know them all upon sight. I do not know you."

Sensing the potential threat level without moving his head to look, Ascher decided there were two men behind him. Bodyguards for the man standing before him?

Ascher eyed the practice épée through the window of the Clio. "Are these gentlemen behind me my friends, as well?"

"You amuse me, Mr. Vallois. And yes, if you wish it, they can be your very best friends. More preferable than enemies, wouldn't you say?"

What the hell was going on? He'd been keeping his nose clean. In fact, the past few years Ascher had gone out of his way to remain inconspicuous. There was nothing like a run-in with the East Indian mafia over rights to claimed treasure to cool a man's jets.

"Jacques Lambert." The man thrust out a thin hand to shake—an advance that put him to lunge distance—but Ascher did not take the bait. This guy was not British. An American using a French name perhaps? "My business card claims me CEO of BHDC, a genetic-research lab in Paris. You have not heard of us."

No need to verify that one. Ascher's interests covered anything athletic, sporting or adventurous. Science? Not his bag. "Genetic research? I don't understand," Ascher said.

"It is a difficult field to get a mental grasp on," Lambert replied. "But the beauty of it is that you don't have to understand. Simple acceptance is required."

"Sorry, I gave at the office."

"I'm not on the shill, Vallois. In fact, I have an interest in financing your current dig."

The dig? But he'd only that morning gathered a small crew of fellow archaeologists online. They weren't set to convene in Chalon-sur-Saône for another two weeks.

Who had brought in this fellow without consulting him?

Ascher trusted the two men he had chosen to assist on the dig. Jay and Peyton Nash had accompanied him before. They were his age, far more knowledgeable in archaeology than him, and also enjoyed a challenging mountain bike course, like the one they'd conquered in Scotland's Tweed Valley.

Although… he'd recruited another. A woman. He did not know her beyond what he'd learned while chatting with her online. And admittedly, knowledge of her character had been not so important as her figure and those bewitching amber-green eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lambert, if you have been led to believe—"

The sudden heat of breath hissing down the back of his neck did not disturb Ascher so much as piss him off. He stood tall, not about to back down or cringe from the bully behind him.

If the trunk were still open…but it was not. The only weapon he had to hand was his ring of three keys and a rudimentary grasp of martial arts. He slipped the ignition key between his forefinger and middle finger, point out.

"I have been following your research online for months," Lambert said. "Fascinating how you tracked the Fouquet journals in the Bibliothèque Nationale."

Ascher thought about the days spent in the huge Paris library that he had genuinely enjoyed. "I haven't posted that information publicly," he said.

"Yes, I know. You made it very difficult, but once I tracked your conversations with the Nash brothers, I continued to follow them."

So his friends hadn't invited this man. Yet they had inadvertently lured an outsider.

"I've hired all the men required for the dig, I'm afraid."

"You misunderstand, Vallois." Lambert made eye contact with the thugs over Ascher's shoulder. He went for the riposte, slipping something out of his suit coat's inner pocket. It unrolled with a shake. Lambert then slid one hand into the surgical glove. "I—" he gave the glove a crisp snap "—have a keen interest in the sword."

Ascher's intuition screamed this was not the place he should be at this moment. Sometimes it was better to run, and risk injury, than to stick around and risk death. Fencing skills aside, now was the time to employ street smarts.

Ascher jabbed an elbow backward, catching one of the thugs in the ribs.

A meaty arm snaked about Ascher's neck. A vicious squeeze choked off his cry of surprise. Levering his foot against the door of his car, he tried to push off the man, but his attacker leaned into the force, making escape impossible.

"No, no, mustn't struggle," Lambert said calmly, as if directing a child afraid of the dentist's drill. He tugged the fingertip of one glove, snapping it smartly into place. "This is not what you might suspect."

"I suspect everything," Ascher hissed. "I know I do not like you—"

Chokehold released, Ascher's arms were wrenched behind him and upward. His shoulder muscles were forced beyond their limit, and his deltoids stretched painfully. Bent forward, he intended to kick backward, but Lambert's next move stopped him.

Further utilizing the dread calm of a looming dentist, Lambert withdrew a vial from inside his suit coat.

"The musketeer's sword has been tops on my list of plunder for quite some time. I believe you have discovered the only possible resting place for the sword, Mr. Vallois." Lambert tapped the finger-size vial against his wrist. There was something inside, white, stick-like. "Surprising, the conclusions you made about the location, but when I thought about it awhile, very believable. I wish you great success."

"The sword is not for sale," Ascher said.

"When one acquires plunder, sir, one does not pay for it. But I am willing to put forth something for your efforts. You will require cash to finance your dig."

"Already taken care of."

"Your check bounced at the bank. My guess? You should start seeing the overdrafts immediately. I know you are two months behind on rent for that little fencing salon around the corner. Pity. The children will be deprived of your witty yet charming teaching manner," Lambert said.

Ascher grunted against the increasing force straining his muscles.

"As for that cottage you call a mansion out of town, I've made it my business to know your electricity will be shut off two days from now." He bent close to Ascher's face. "Allow me to ease your financial strain."

"There is no amount you can offer for the sword."

Ascher twisted. Two meaty hands held firmly. It was quite embarrassing how easily he'd been wrangled. As long as his aggressor held his arms back at such a painful angle, he could not escape.

"That sword is somet...


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Customer Reviews

3.7 out of 5 stars
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See all 11 customer reviews
I could not get into this story no matter how hard I tried.
ZhyeGoatt
The original 2 authors, Mel Odom and Victor Milan kept Annja and the other main characters totally 'in character'.
M. Stolz
I wasn't aware that another author was writing this series, but it makes sense in this latest installment.
Mali

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful By Mali on December 22, 2008
Format: Mass Market Paperback
I wasn't aware that another author was writing this series, but it makes sense in this latest installment. The character of Annja doesn't seem to be consistant or herself, her personality changing like moods.
The absence of Garin in the story is like a gaping hole, and suddenly detective Bart whom she had chemistry with in the past "views her as a little sister"? Annja also seems to have picked up some odd new personality quirks and issues. She falls easily into casual relationships with new strange men not when they interest her, but as she feels the need to use one...
The mood of the book left me unsatisfied with the open-ended ending. It seemed too much like a WB t.v show. It left a side problem completely unrelated to Annja looming in the back like something to be pulled back out in the season finale or maybe season two of a show. I prefer the original writing style untampered with.
One change I liked occured when she accomplished keeping up with her athletic partner and congratulated herself while on the run. It made her seem much more human as opposed to nonchalant about everything.
Spoilers below, caution:

The main thing that bothered me occured at the end of the story. Annja develops a starnge sense or morality about cloning and experimenting on babies that with her background, seems to appear out of nowhere, although her orphan past is mentioned again...
In the end there was no closure, the villain running the cloning company dies and his minions fade into the background to continue the work, a strange experimental cloned baby is born, and Annja keeps all of the incriminating evidence to herself instead of reporting it to the authorities. I was disssatisfied enough to give the book 2 stars.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful By M. Stolz on March 2, 2009
Format: Mass Market Paperback
To all the readers of this series, this one was written by an author new to the series, Michelle Hauf. The original 2 authors, Mel Odom and Victor Milan kept Annja and the other main characters totally 'in character'. Michelle, and the other 'new' author, Jon Merz, haven't bothered, and it hurts the series a lot. If the editors at Harlequin/Gold Eagle actually read these reviews, then PLEASE make your authors read the previous books in this series, and require them to keep Annja's personality traits and skills consistent throughout each book. I did like this book marginally better than 'Soul Stealer', but all the others were significantly better than this one.

The things I love about Annja, her blackbelt and sword skills, her highly ethical behavior, her unwillingness to use her sword unless her life is at risk, her constant concern that she's making the right decision - all of these things were MISSING from this book. As far as I can tell, this story was rushed to print with no interest on the part of the publisher or editor to maintain the quality of the first 10 books.

I intend to check the copyright page of all future Rogue angel books, and only buy those from the original 2 authors.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful By ZhyeGoatt on January 7, 2009
Format: Mass Market Paperback
I could not get into this story no matter how hard I tried. Who the hell thought that putting the search for D'artagnan sword and some illegal human cloning facility together was a good idea? A biopirate? No really, our bad guy is a biopirate. If done well this story might have worked, but some bad guy calling himself Mad Bloody Jack was just stupid. This is definitely the worst book in the series. Who wrote this, somebody's kid?

I also totally agree with the other reviewer about Annja's personality disorder in this book, but not because of the casual sex thing (which she doesn't even have in this book). The authors really need to get together on Annja's personality and morals. In all the other books she prizes human life above relics, but in this book she's basically telling Ascher that the sword is going to the proper authorities no matter what so kiss your other kidney good-bye. She's also quite possessive in this book where she hasn't been before. Grabbing someone else's find, storing it at a friend's house, and then telling that person you're going to give it back when you don't intend to seems more of a bad guy move than an Annja one.
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By Kris Branner on June 17, 2014
Format: Mass Market Paperback
It was fun to learn more about the Musketeers and Dumas while free running through modern Paris. Always the unexpected.
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By Nancy Dwiggins on May 15, 2014
Format: Mass Market Paperback Verified Purchase
Continue to read and love all the action that takes place, along with a story line that keeps you guessing.
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By David P. Burrows on October 16, 2013
Format: Mass Market Paperback Verified Purchase
At first I didn't think I would like this series, but have grown to love it. I have read them all and can't wait to get the next one when it comes out. Some are better than others, but most are very fun and full of adventure. What a woman!
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