Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book

by Sheridan Jeane

  The Russians’ faces seemed to transform before her eyes. They dropped their friendly masks and an air of grim determination swept over them. They knew she’d recognized them. She could read it in their expressions.

  Robert rose to his feet and stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. She wrapped an arm around his waist from behind, standing as close to him as possible as she peeked around his shoulder.

  The footman from last night stepped forward and locked gazes with her. “You recognize me. That will make things easier.” Although he spoke with a Russian accent, it was faint.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean.” Antonia matched his forward march with a back-step of her own and tugged Robert with her. He resisted only for a moment and then gave way to her gentle pressure.

  The Russian footman let out a sharp laugh. “It will be easier if you don’t pretend. We know you slipped into the ambassador’s ball. I spoke to you myself.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I am Sergeant Davydov. My friend and I work for the ambassador. He wants to ask you a few questions. Nothing more. If you would come with us—” He stepped forward again and reached for her arm.

  “Don’t touch her,” Robert said as he sidestepped to block the man’s hand.

  Both Russians stiffened. They glanced at one another, and then in unison they shifted their hands, revealing the knives they’d been concealing. They appeared particularly menacing as they glared at Robert.

  Antonia felt lightheaded as she backed away again, tugging Robert along with her. She glanced down the deserted hallway beyond the pair, hoping to see her dressing room door open. Couldn’t anyone hear them talking? Probably not. Those doors were nearly soundproof.

  “Do not think you can keep her from us,” Davydov’s partner said in heavily accented English. “It will not go well for you.”

  She could feel Robert’s muscles tense as he prepared to meet their attack. She couldn’t let him fight them. What if they stabbed him? What if they killed him? Her knees felt weak for a moment and she staggered back, pulling Robert back another step before she managed to right herself.

  She glanced down and noticed Robert’s cane on the floor, lying useless in the abyss between them and Revnik’s men. It might as well have been in his carriage for all the good it would do them right now.

  They needed to escape. To hide.

  But where?

  Their options were limited. She glanced around, quickly discarding each idea that occurred to her. Could they run back up the stairs? Robert would expect her to go first, and she’d be so slow in these skirts that he’d feel obliged to protect her back— without his weapon.

  Wait. What about the storage rooms beneath the stage?

  Antonia glanced down the hallway beyond the two men again. The dressing room doors remained closed, but the Russians had no way of knowing that. Not unless they turned around and looked. It was time to use her acting skills. She plastered a bright smile on her face, focused on a spot behind them, and raised her hand in a greeting.

  With alarmed expressions, the Russians whipped around to discover who was approaching.

  Antonia seized her opportunity and dragged Robert down the hallway, away from the two men. She didn’t pause to glance over her shoulder to see if they’d noticed. A moment later the sound of their scuffling feet told her they’d turned to give chase. “Stop,” one of them called. “Miss Winter. Stop. You’re in no danger from us.”

  Oh, really? Their knives told a different story.

  She heard a loud crash from behind her and risked glancing back. One of the set pieces that had been propped against the wall had come crashing down, temporarily blocking their pursuers. Robert must have pushed it over as they passed it.

  It wouldn’t slow them for long. They were already shoving it out of their path, but the delay bought Antonia and Robert a few precious seconds.

  With Robert in tow, she ran toward the staircase but she bypassed it and pulled him toward a well-concealed door beyond it. “This way,” she said as she felt his grip on her hand loosen. She refused to let him stand his ground and fight those men.

  If she and Robert could escape beneath the stage, they could disappear into the dark recesses of the storage rooms. She only hoped she remembered enough about the labyrinth to lose their pursuers. If she could lead them away from the doorway and then circle behind them, she and Robert could escape.

  She made a desperate grab at the doorknob and twisted it as she threw her shoulder against the door, not wanting to waste even a fraction of a second slowing down. It banged open and they rushed through. Robert slammed it shut behind them, but it bounced open again. She dragged him forward, not letting him pause to close it again and waste precious time. Instead, they sped into the darkness under the stage.

  Antonia was confronted by a maze of fake stone walls and painted trees. But it was a familiar maze. They moved far beneath the stage, and her eyes quickly adjusted to the low light. When silhouettes appeared in the doorway, Antonia slowed their headlong dash and ducked through the nearest opening, pulling Robert in with her.

  “We need to keep quiet,” she whispered into his ear.

  He gave her a silent nod.

  The space was much smaller than she’d expected. It was more of a cubbyhole. Her back pressed against a rough wall that felt a bit like brick, but she knew it wasn’t. The texture and temperature weren’t quite right. Perhaps it was a piece of a set that had been built to simulate stone.

  She could hear the two men moving farther beneath the stage. Were she and Robert hidden well enough? She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him deeper into their niche. She could barely make out the glint of his eyes as he glanced back over his shoulder. She felt him move and then realized he was raising his coat collar. He folded his lapels over his white shirt so that it was concealed by the darker fabric of his formal jacket. That was quite clever of him. Now he blended more completely with the darkness.

  Robert wrapped his arm around her waist and moved even closer to her, causing her to let out a soft gasp of surprise. A shudder of awareness coursed through her. His cologne and the scent of his freshly starched shirt filled her senses, and she closed her eyes as she breathed him in. The man overwhelmed her, pushing every other thought from her mind.

  As Robert let out an unsteady breath, Antonia realized their close quarters must be affecting him as well.

  He leaned down and his smooth cheek brushed against hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath next to her ear. “Was that the only door?” he asked so quietly it was almost as though he’d breathed the words.

  She licked her lips and swallowed. “Yes.” She closed her eyes to try to block him from her senses, but that only made her more aware of him. She opened them again to find him gazing at her. He made it so difficult to think clearly. “There are some trap doors leading up to the stage, but I don’t think they’ll be of any help. I can’t climb through one wearing this costume.”

  “Miss Winter,” Davydov called, “please be reasonable. We need to know what you may have seen at the ambassador’s ball last night. Nothing more.”

  Judging by the location of their voices, they’d moved farther away from the door than she’d realized. Soon, she and Robert would be able to circle behind them.

  His breath warmed her ear and sent a tingle through her body. “We’ll wait here a bit longer and then sneak out the same way we came in,” he said.

  She nodded and turned, meaning to whisper something back, but instead her lips grazed his cheek.

  They both froze. Her mouth was inches from his. She only needed to move slightly and— she closed the distance.

  His lips were soft and warm against hers. They parted slightly as she kissed him, and she felt his tongue touch her lower lip, exploring and tasting her.

  Antonia’s knees gave way beneath her, and she leaned into him for support. He tightened his arms, pulling her firmly against him. She’d kissed a man befo
re, but never like this. Never with so much passion— so much abandon. This moment blazed with intensity. She lifted her arms, wrapping one around his neck as she dug her fingers into his hair. She suddenly realized how much she’d been wanting to touch his hair. Perhaps ever since she’d seen him five years ago. It was as soft and silky as she’d imagined.

  She’d worn hoop skirts for most of her adult life, and the way this particular costume, with its wide hips and flat skirt-front, allowed their bodies to brush against each other was a novel experience. She could feel the heat of his thighs through her skirts. As she shifted her weight to move closer, her leg bumped against his. Robert let out a stifled moan that he cut off almost immediately. He lowered one of his hands to her bottom and pressed her hips against his. He deepened his kiss, and she tightened her hold around his neck, clinging to him. The rest of the world disappeared. There was only him.

  She could live inside this kiss. Inside this moment. For a brief instant in time, nothing else mattered, and her world became bliss.

  A loud crash followed by a string of angry Russian words erupted from somewhere in the darkness, and the reality of her situation came rushing back. Antonia jerked away from the kiss, turning toward the sound. For a moment, confusion ruled her, and then she grasped the significance of what she’d heard.

  “This is our chance,” she whispered, regretting the need to say the words and break the spell. Her voice was breathless, as though even her lungs resented the need to exhale and leave the blissful moment behind. “They’re far away from the door. We can slip out.”

  Robert didn’t answer at first. His arms were still wrapped around her, and she could hear him breathing in the darkness. After a moment, he eased his hold on her, but he took her by the hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Can you lead us out?”

  “Yes, but we need to be very quiet.” She couldn’t risk knocking into something and giving them away. She let go of Robert’s hand and adjusted her dress, lifting the stiff panniers up and tucking them under her arms so that her silhouette became much narrower. She held the panniers in place with her elbows as she eased past Robert. “Keep close,” she murmured.

  What had she done? What had possessed her to kiss him?

  The narrow passageways were made up of stacks of boxes and crates. Her skirts barely rustled as she moved. She rested her palm on one of the beams supporting the stage as she circled around it. It felt grimy, and she snatched her hand back to wipe it against her skirt. The dust would wash away with a bit of clean water. But what about that kiss? It wouldn’t be erased so easily.

  “Miss Winter,” Davydov called out from somewhere behind them, “we know who you are. You’re Vladamir Nevsky’s granddaughter. You don’t need to run from us. Don’t you know we’d never harm you? We simply wanted to offer you whatever assistance the embassy might be able to provide.”

  She froze and glanced back at Robert. She could barely make him out in the darkness, but she moved closer to him and leaned in to whisper a question. “How do they know my parentage? No one recognized me at the ball yesterday. Did you mention my name to anyone?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “Of course not, but Revnik asked me about you this afternoon. He already knows you were at the ball. He asked me about a woman in a silver gown.”

  “Does he know I have the book?” That would be a logical assumption.

  “He suspects.”

  She certainly didn’t believe Davydov’s reassurances. He and his knife wouldn’t hurt her? Bah! His promises were as false as he was. If those two men were footmen, she was the Princess of Patagonia.

  She wouldn’t let them catch her.

  Faint light seeped through the needle-thin seams of the various trapdoors. If she hadn’t already been familiar with the path between the support beams, she would have become lost. There were only a couple of paths back to the entrance. The other areas were being used to store items or were blocked by crossbeams. She’d never be able to crawl under the beams wearing her dress.

  She listened for their pursuers. It was obvious that they’d given up cajoling her into giving away her hiding place, because now they were trying to move silently. A moment later she heard a loud crack followed by a muffled curse. One of the men must have hit his head against a low ceiling beam. She grinned. At least she was short enough that she didn’t have that problem.

  Suddenly, she wasn't quite as scared as she had been only a moment ago. She had the advantage of knowing her way through this maze.

  She inched forward in the darkness, reassured by Robert’s presence. As she rounded a support beam, she glimpsed the still-open door leading back toward the dressing rooms.

  She held her breath for a moment and listened.

  A footstep. Far behind them, and nowhere near the doorway. What of the other man? Had they stayed together?

  She listened for another moment, but heard no other noises.

  This was it. She had to make her move now.

  She squeezed Robert’s hand and then darted for the door, pulling him with her. They burst through the door at the same moment that she heard one of the men shout an alarm. Without pausing to look back, she bolted around the corner at the bottom of the staircase and careened directly into a large, immovable man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.

  - Mark Twain

  Robert barreled through the door after Antonia just in time to see her slam into a large man.

  “Claude!” Antonia grabbed the man’s arms to keep from falling. “Two men are chasing us. Outsiders,” she emphasized. “They have knives.”

  Claude’s face hardened. He moved around Antonia to stand next to Robert. The large man moved gracefully, like a cat. He clearly knew how to fight. Robert’s confidence crept up a notch.

  As Antonia turned to face the door beneath the stage as well, Robert caught her eye and shook his head. “It’s you they want. Go in the dressing room and stay there until I come for you,” Robert said. “We’ll deal with these two.”

  Without pausing, Antonia turned to do as he asked. She put her hand on the dressing room door and then hesitated, looking as though she was about to argue with him.

  “Antonia, go!” Robert roared. “Get out of sight!”

  She jumped, pushed open the door, and stepped through it.

  Davydov burst through the under-stage door next to the staircase. Then he caught sight of Claude and hesitated. The other man came storming through directly behind him. They paused a moment before surging forward in unison.

  Robert braced himself for their attack as Claude moved to stand next to him.

  Davydov and his partner abruptly swerved and bolted up the staircase. Robert didn’t waste time staring after them in surprise. He snatched his cane from the floor where he’d dropped it earlier and swiftly pulled free the épée. He launched himself after them. They might have knives, but his reach would even the balance.

  Robert’s strides ate up the distance, and he tore up the stairs two at a time with Claude at his heels.

  The Russians were fast. Before Robert reached the floor above, he could hear them thundering toward the stage door.

  At the top of the stairs, Robert grabbed the handrail and used it to swing himself toward the stage entrance without slowing his headlong charge. Claude kept pace with him. The door leading out onto the street banged shut as he rushed toward it.

  With his slim blade raised, he charged into the street. Two carriages stood there— his own and another blocking its path.

  Claude darted past him and ran toward the horses of the first coach, stretching his arm out to reach for their harnesses.

  “Go! Go!” Davydov shouted. He and his companion were scrambling inside their carriage. The coachman didn’t wait for the door to latch before urging his horses forward.

  Claude’s hand missed the harness by inches, and he scrambled to one side to avoid being struck by the coach’s wh
eels.

  Robert charged ahead as the carriage door slammed shut. He continued a dozen or so yards before stopping. The carriage careened away, quickly outdistancing him. As it burst out of the alleyway and onto the street, it narrowly missed a pedestrian before disappearing around the corner.

  “Bah!” Claude shouted, shaking his fist toward the end of the alley. “Criminals! They’d better not come back here.”

  An ice-cold fury hardened within Robert. Revnik was behind this. Apparently he no longer believed Antonia was “too important” to be bothered by his men.

  This changed everything.

  Antonia needed help. His help.

  What was it she’d said to him earlier that afternoon? Something about the measure of a man being taken by the path he chooses when faced with a difficult situation.

  But he found he’d already made his decision.

  He’d chosen Antonia.

  “Let’s go back inside,” he said to Claude.

  Claude narrowed his eyes. “This trouble has something to do with you.”

  Robert shook his head. “I was worried something like this might happen, but I didn’t bring this trouble to your door. Antonia’s in danger.”

  He wanted her to be safe, and he wanted her to keep believing in him. When she looked at him, she saw the man he knew he could be rather than the man he’d let himself become. And he much preferred Antonia’s vision of him.

  Now all he needed to do was make it become his reality.

  “She brought this trouble here? To my theater?” Claude’s jaw clenched. “I need to speak to her. Now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

  - William Shakespeare

  Antonia peeked into the hallway and found it deserted. She darted out and grabbed the discarded shaft of Robert’s cane. It felt slightly different from the way a normal cane would. The weight was off.