Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (9 page)

Emily shut her eyes. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her friends had been right on some of those counts. Tonight had proven that without question. Her panic when she was nearly caught by Leary could have cost her the secret she had uncovered, or even her own life.

“And Grant, I assume he knows the truth, as well. That he has been laughing at my ineptitude for the last week?” Emily whispered.

Why did it matter what Grant thought of her?

It just did.

“No!” Ana stepped forward and this time Emily let her friend touch her arm. “I promise you, Grant knows nothing about your true position. Something…happened to him a year ago. Merry and I don’t know what it was, Charlie wouldn’t say. But he is in a similar position to you. He’s been taking reckless chances. Putting himself in danger. His superiors thought if he followed you for a while, it might give him a chance to recover, to calm.”

A burst of relief relaxed every muscle in Emily’s body. So, he hadn’t known. He was just as much a pawn in this ill-conceived scheme as she. He wasn’t party to her humiliation.

And he hadn’t made love to her under false pretenses.

Only
she
had done that by not revealing her true identity, even after she realized Grant was a spy. A little niggling voice of guilt taunted her, but she shoved it aside.

“I am sorry,” Ana continued and her fingers tightened on Emily’s forearm. “We weren’t doing this out of spite or malice or as some kind of game. It was truly for your protection.”

Emily yanked her hand away. “I don’t desire protection! Six months ago you wouldn’t have dared do this. Six months ago, I was protecting
you
from yourself.”

Ana folded her arms and a sudden flash of anger lit her normally gentle eyes. “Yes. You were. But that was six months ago. You hadn’t yet been shot. I had never entered the field. I doubted myself, but that is no longer the case. But you
should
doubt yourself, my dear. You should be aware of your shortcomings or else you’re just a terrible accident waiting to happen.” Her tone softened and tears sparkled in her eyes. “Emily, I don’t wish to see you added to the anonymous wall of fallen spies at the War Department.”

Emily hesitated. Now that she’d railed out a good portion of her outrage and anger, she felt calm enough to really hear Ana’s pleas. And she understood them, even though she hated the fact that they might be true. She had to prove they weren’t.

And now that she had uncovered this false Prince, perhaps she could. Her gaze slipped to Ana’s face. For many years, she had depended on her partners for support in the field. For research. For assistance. She had turned to Charlie for details she couldn’t obtain on her own.

But this time, that wasn’t possible. If she told them what she’d seen, they would certainly remove her from the case, citing all their concerns about her abilities. She might never overcome her fears and regain their trust. Or her trust in herself. If she wanted that, she would have to do this alone…unless she could find a suitable partner to assist her. One who had something to prove, himself.

“What are you going to do, Emily?” Ana tilted her head. “Now that you’re aware of our deception.”

She swallowed hard. There was only one thing to do.

“Well, first, I’m going to put Lord Westfield through his paces.” She folded her arms with a wicked smile. “If he wants to follow me, he’ll have to earn the right.”

Ana shook her head, “Emily—”

She shrugged off her friend’s protests. “My apologies for interrupting you, Ana. Now that I know the truth, I’ll be on my way.”

“No.” Ana followed her as she left the parlor and headed into the foyer. “This conversation isn’t over yet, Em!”

She ignored her friend’s calls as she left the house and headed to her carriage. The one she had paid the hackney driver handsomely to fetch and send back for her from its hidden location by The Blue Pony.

“Go enjoy your husband,” she called over her shoulder as she climbed into the rig. As she shut the door behind her, she murmured, “I have my own plans.”

Yes, Grant Ashbury would have to prove what kind of spy he was. And if he passed her test, then and only then would she approach him with the truth and offer him a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his superiors by helping her solve the case of the false Prince.

Because this could be the biggest case she’d ever investigated. But she wasn’t sure she could do it alone.

As the carriage rocked around a corner, a nagging voice inside her reminded her that after tonight, she also wasn’t quite ready to let go of Grant. Even though there was no future in that desire.

“A
nd then she left you locked in her bedroom?” Laughter thickened Ben’s voice and Grant could feel his brother’s amused stare on his back.

He gritted his teeth, finding nothing humorous about the situation. It wasn’t a circumstance he would normally relate to anyone, even his brother, but he’d been so damned haunted since he awoke in the bedroom where he’d had what was probably the most powerful sexual encounter of his one and thirty years. He
had
to tell someone. And there was no one he trusted more than Ben.

“Yes,” he managed to grind out as he clenched and unclenched his fists and stared into the dancing fire.

“I’m sorry.” Ben wasn’t even trying to hold back the chuckles now. “But I think that may be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever heard in my life. How in the world could you, my controlled and powerful older brother, one of the best spies in the whole realm, be so fully seduced by a woman of the night who never even gave you her name? And how could you then fall into a sleep so deep that you never heard her leave?”

Grant turned slowly and his mood must have been reflected on his face because Ben’s laughter abruptly ended. His brother scrambled to his feet from his position sprawled on Grant’s settee and stared at him.

“Dear God, this is truly affecting you, isn’t it? Grant, what is it?”

He scowled, hating himself for what he was about to confess. Hating himself for needing to confess it and obtain his brother’s advice. He’d never required that before, though Ben was more than open about providing unasked-for guidance.

But now…everything was different. He was beginning to accept that it had been different for a year. Last night had taken that fact and slapped him in the face.

“You asked me why I slept.” He cleared his throat. “The woman didn’t drug me. She didn’t render me unconscious. I almost wish she had. I prefer the nefarious answer to the truth.”

Ben leaned forward. “And the truth is?”

“Never in my life have I felt anything like what I experienced in that woman’s bed. And for the first time since—” He broke off.

“Since Davina’s death,” his brother supplied softly.

Grant winced. “Yes. For the first time since Davina’s death, I felt…at ease. At peace. And I slept. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in years. And all because of a lightskirt’s touch.” He shook his head. “No wonder I’m being punished by the War Department, Ben. I’m a joke.”

“No!” His brother’s humor was gone now. “Never say that again! You are the best spy this country has. If you were changed by the death of someone you cared for, that is to be expected. No one blames you for that.”

“I blame myself. And I couldn’t go through that again. The love is not worth the loss.” Grant shook his head to make the memories go away. “The woman stole my watch.”

Ben froze. “Your War Department watch?”

“I’m sure she thought it a simple bauble she could sell.”

He cringed at the thought. Somehow he didn’t like to think of the mysterious woman as a petty thief. Or believe she’d been so unmoved by their encounter that she would rob him. But of course both those things were likely true. She was a woman of the street and had behaved accordingly, looking out for herself.

“So what will you do?” Ben asked softly.

Uncomfortable heat crept up Grant’s throat and colored his face. “I’m already having some investigation done into who she could be.”

His brother’s eyebrows came up in surprise. “She really did shake you.”

“I’ve already said the encounter was unexpectedly…moving,” Grant snapped, his tone much harsher than he had intended. He drew a long breath to calm his turbulent emotions. “But I want my damned watch back.”

“And what about Lady Allington?” his brother pressed, retaking his seat.

“What about her?” Grant turned away from Ben’s pointed stare.

He would tell his brother many things that he wouldn’t trust with any other person. But he wasn’t about to tell him that during his night with the mysterious thief, he had pictured Emily over and over. That he still pictured her when he remembered that other woman’s mouth covering his. Her body rocking over him as they surrendered to a powerful desire that had flared from nowhere.

“While you’re seeking out this other woman, will you continue to protect Lady Allington?”

Grant moved to the window, staring out over the cold, sunlit garden.

“Of course. Protecting her is the duty I’m sworn to uphold. I know Emily went to the hells last night. I
know
it was her carriage pulling away from The Blue Pony. I simply couldn’t find her. And since my sources tell me the lady was perfectly well when she went out on her calls this morning, I know she wasn’t harmed during whatever adventure she had last night.” And that fact had brought him much relief after his failures. “I shall double my efforts to uncover her secrets, and I shall spend my free time figuring out who that deuced woman was who stole my watch.”

“If Lady Allington could so easily slip through your fingers in the hells, where she ought to have stood out,” Ben began, his serious and even tone forcing Grant to look at him, “how do you intend to ferret out her secrets? It seems her ladyship is capable of hiding things.”

The muscle in Grant’s jaw popped. That was his fear as well. He had already deduced that Emily was able to keep her secrets and emotions close. No one broke through her façade unless she allowed him inside.

What would it take to be invited into her secrets?

“I won’t accept her refusals and dodges. I’ll simply push harder,” he said softly as he tried to ignore all the pleasurable images that statement conjured.

His brother’s face twisted with concern. “Grant, I’m worried about you. This isn’t a good idea, I know it in my heart. You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

Grant met his brother’s gaze. “What look?”

“The same one you had after Davina’s death.”

He tensed. Images of Davina’s lifeless eyes flashed through his mind. Except they weren’t hers. They were blue, like Emily’s. He flinched as he tried to erase the picture.

“This is not the same,” he growled.

His brother got to his feet. “Grant—”

Shoving past Ben, Grant left the room. “It’s bloody well not the same.”

But if that were true, why did it all feel so familiar?

Emily looked toward the door for the fifth time since she had arrived at Lady Ingramshire’s soiree ten minutes before. Grant was on the guest list, she’d made certain of that, but he had yet to arrive.

She’d been aware of his absence the moment she walked in the door. His presence hadn’t made the air in the room heavier. Her heart hadn’t done flip-flops to let her know.

And a quick canvass of the room confirmed what her body told her. So now all she felt was empty anxiety.

Tonight would be her first opportunity to see Grant since she crept from his warm arms. The first chance to gauge her own emotions since she discovered he was also a spy. She feared, more than anything, that she wouldn’t be able to control herself. That no amount of training and practice would keep her from revealing everything to him in just one hungry glance. He would see her overwhelming desire to touch him again, her anger about the deception they were both operating under, the dread that she was a failure as a spy and would never recover…

She wasn’t ready for him to know any of those things. Some she planned to reveal eventually…but the panic she meant to keep to herself forever. No one could ever know about that failing.

Calm. She drew a long breath and let it out slowly.

She must remain calm. After sucking in a few more breaths, she let her gaze flit around the room again. This time, however, she found something—
someone
—of interest. Meredith and Tristan. She winced. Of course they would come tonight. They were leaving for their case in the North Country tomorrow afternoon and Emily had been avoiding her friends and their requests to see her all day long. She didn’t want another confrontation like the one she’d encountered with Ana.

With Meredith, it would be worse. She was more pointed. More direct. Any conversation they had now would undoubtedly end in a row, and Emily wasn’t prepared to handle that presently. Her emotions were already in enough turmoil and she couldn’t risk Meredith guessing what she had done.

Her friend lifted up on her toes and her dark gaze moved methodically around the ballroom. Emily winced. She was looking for her.

Darting to the left, she hid behind a large group of men, only daring to peek out to see if she’d been spotted. Meredith was still searching with methodical focus.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered and turned to find a better spot where she wouldn’t be seen.

She crashed, headlong, into something warm and solid. Strong hands came up to cup her forearms and steady her. Emily stared at the male chest not an inch in front of her. Her heart was pounding, her stomach fluttering wildly. She didn’t have to look up to know whose arms she was in.

But she did.

Up and up, over a broad chest, fine muscular shoulders, a strong chin, full lips that she knew from experience tasted of brandy and wicked temptation. She met Grant’s eyes. So deep that the brown was almost black.

She hadn’t been able to see his eyes last night. Had they been so dark while he made love to her? Had they been dilated with pleasure? Narrowed with satisfaction?

God, she wanted to know.

Her suddenly dry lips parted and she tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a little squeak. Not exactly the polished statement she’d been hoping for.

Now that she was steady, Grant pulled his hands away as though he was burned by touching her. Those dark eyes, which had been so unreadable, flared with heat and also with something else. Almost
regret
.

Did
he know the truth, after all? Had Anastasia lied when she said Grant wasn’t aware of the deception?

No. Emily tilted her head and looked closer. No, it wasn’t recognition that flooded his gaze. There was something else that made him seem so distant. So far away.

She wanted him to come back. To be as close to her as he had been last night. That desire was so overwhelming it made her drive to prove herself, her drive to pursue the new case she’d uncovered at The Blue Pony, fade. She wanted this man. More to the point, she wanted to feel what she’d felt in his arms the night before.

Peace. Strength. She’d been alive, perhaps for the first time since the attack against her. And, if she was honest with herself, perhaps for the first time in even longer.

She wanted all that, if only for a little while. And she knew in that moment, that she would have it…and she would have him.

The look in Emily Redgrave’s sparkling blue eyes could have melted the solid ice that slicked the walkways outside. Grant didn’t think a woman had ever looked at him so blatantly, and his body reacted accordingly. He actually had to think about every ugly thing he’d ever seen in order to keep the harsh ridge of an insistent erection from making itself painfully obvious against his fitted trousers.

He backed a step away. How could he respond to Emily so strongly just a scant day after spending the night with another woman? How could he want her with the same desperate drive? Was he losing his mind? Or had he just denied himself for so long that now that his body had been allowed pleasure, it was demanding more of the same?

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said and the heat was gone from her stare. Had he only imagined it? Placed his own desire in her eyes?

“What?” he choked out, struggling for some semblance of decorum.

She smiled. “I bumped into you, Westfield.”

He nodded. Ah yes, that was how she’d ended up in his arms. “Think nothing of it. Despite the time of year, this is a bit of a crush. Easy to lose your balance in the crowd.”

Though he
had
heard her mutter that curse before she careened into him. Still, he wasn’t going to point that out…yet. He shook himself back to attention and refocused. This was about his case. This was about protecting her.

She nodded. “I admit, I’m pleased to see you.”

A flush of triumph took Grant off guard. “Thank you. I am happy to see you as well. When you slipped from the Greenville ball early last night, I was disappointed I didn’t have a chance to talk to you. In fact, I haven’t had the pleasure of your conversation since that afternoon in Lady Laneford’s Great Hall.”

Her eyebrow arched. “I had no idea you were so aware of my every movement, sir.”

Grant tilted his head. There was…challenge in her eyes. And it was surprisingly arousing to see it there, even if he wasn’t sure of the cause. It was like the two of them were on some merry chase and she was willing to let him be the winner for a price.

“A lovely lady such as you could not be in doubt that she is”—he stopped. He was going to say desired—“watched.”

“Hmmm.”

She smiled, but tossed a glance over her shoulder like she feared she was being watched right this very moment, and not by someone she cared to converse with.

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” he asked. “Unless the first waltz has been claimed by another gentleman?”

She shook her head. “No. I would be happy to dance.”

He offered her an elbow and she hesitated just a fraction before she curled delicate fingers around his forearm. The heat of her touch seeped through his heavy coat, past his linen shirt, warming his skin like nothing separated them. She caught her breath like she felt it, too, but when he cast a side glance at her, her face reflected no emotion.

They stepped onto the floor together and he sighed. The waltz of all dances. Moving close together. A sudden flash of last night buzzed through his head like an insistent bug. The feel of soft flesh brushing his own. The welcoming heat of the woman’s body. Except now his memory mixed with the very real woman standing before him. Instead of the nameless lightskirt, he pictured Emily arching beneath him, Emily rolling on top of him, gripping his shoulders as she rocked against him.

“My lord?” Her eyes narrowed.