Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies]

by Seduction Is Forever

  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.

  Grant shook the powerful and erotic images away. “Yes?”

  “The music.”

  He started. Yes, the music was beginning. He took the first step, guiding Emily into the dance even as he cursed himself internally.

  “Where did you go?” he asked, clenching his teeth to keep his mind from straying. It seemed he had little control over his wayward thoughts.

  She glanced up at him, her gaze sharp. “When?”

  He arched a brow at the harsh tone of her voice. “Last night, Emily.” She sucked in a breath at his use of her first name, but he ignored that. He liked saying it, propriety be damned. “You slipped away from the ball without even saying hello to me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I did not realize speaking to me would mean so much to you, Grant.”

  She emphasized his name just a fraction and Grant hesitated, nearly missing the steps of the dance before he righted himself.

  The sound of his name seemed so familiar. The touch of her was so familiar. Like the woman last night. But that wasn’t possible. That other woman had been a lightskirt. Flaming red hair, bright makeup, tattered clothing, not to mention the accent. She’d taken him back to a home that was most definitely not Emily’s, in a neighborhood a lady like Emily probably didn’t even know existed.

  It wasn’t possible the two women were one in the same, yet the idea niggled, pushing at him.

  “My lord?”

  He shook off the thoughts. “You must know I enjoy speaking to you.”

  Now it was her eyes that widened, her face that reflected surprise and a very brief happiness that was surprisingly powerful. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her light up like that.

  “Th-Thank you, I enjoy speaking to you as well,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft and shy.

  “But you have not yet answered my question,” he pressed. “Where did you depart to so early in the evening?”

  She met his gaze, unflinching and unreadable. With every look, every movement she made, his intuition pricked and his desire notched up. And though they were on a busy dance floor, it was as if they were the only people in the room. And that was dangerous.

  “What an impertinent and ungentlemanly question, Westfield,” she scolded, though her voice was too silky to make him believe she was actually offended by his prying.

  Tests. She was testing him. Well, he could test her right back. “There is something about you that often makes me forget I am a gentleman, my lady.”

  High color darkened her cheeks. Again Grant flashed to last night and juxtaposed Emily’s face onto the woman who had brought him so much pleasure. That fetching pink tone would darken her cheeks when she found release as well.

  “You should endeavor to remember that fact, my lord,” she said softly as the music ended. “Especially on the dance floor.” Then she backed away from his arms, gave him a dazzling smile, and said, “Now, I have promised the next to Mr. Hingly. Good evening.”

  She left him on the dance floor, staring after her retreating back with his heart pounding and head spinning. He felt nothing like a spy on a mission. He felt like a man who had been well caught by a woman. And he was more than willing to be reeled in on her hook.

  He moved off the dance floor and tracked her as she made her way through the crowd. There was such an effortless grace in her every movement. A calm strength that few ladies he’d met possessed. Emily Redgrave knew exactly who she was, what she was. She showed no fear. No desire for others to view her differently.

  She just was and that made him want to chase her like a hopeless hound to a sly little fox.

  Her movements slowed as she reached the terrace doorways. She glanced around. For a moment, Grant thought she was looking for whomever she had promised
the next dance, but then she peeked over her shoulder. Their eyes met and she smiled. A wicked smile.

  Then she gave him an audacious wink and slipped outside.

  Chapter 9

  Emily crouched behind a line of bushes beside the gazebo in the far back corner of Lady Ingramshire’s sprawling garden. The lanterns on the pathway hardly lit the area, so she was certain she would blend in nicely in the darkened shadows.

  She balanced back on her heels as she adjusted her gown around her feet and waited. Grant would be coming soon. At least, she hoped he would be. She’d all but waved a red flag before his eyes in the ballroom. A good spy would follow. And when he realized she was gone, she wanted to observe his reaction, see how he searched for her.

  As she waited in the cold, she thought about Grant. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him, in reality. Just when she started to understand him, he did something that took her off guard. Something that set her on her head and made her rebuild her image of him.

  Like tonight. He held her so tightly when they danced, his fingers had brushed her hip with the slightest hint of possession. And then he said he enjoyed spending time with her. Those words seemed genuine, not just something said to further his case.

  Her own reaction had been entirely real. Pleasure had washed over her like a warm, welcome wave, even though she was fully aware that she could have nothing deeper than perhaps a brief affair with him. She had a past to contend with, not to mention the fact that she had seen, through her friends, what good relationships required. Trust. Openness.

  Those were things that had never come easy for her.

  But Grant hadn’t said that he wanted those things with her, so it didn’t really matter. Instead, he whispered that she made him forget he was a gentleman. A shiver that had nothing to do with the frigid air shook her. Those words were as seductive as a caress. But one night previous he had been burying himself in what he believed was another woman.