Grant caught her arm to make her face him. “But?”
“I’m still afraid.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “The night Leary chased me, I froze. And when you two were fighting, it was the same. I was overwhelmed by panic.”
He swallowed hard. This admission was difficult for her. It required a level of faith that he was awed she would offer him, even though it played into his own worries. But he shoved those aside. This was about Emily now. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t tell her to surrender to her fears and abandon her life as a spy. To do so would break her spirit.
A spirit he had come to realize had a core of strength he admired.
“What can I do?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes.
She clutched his hand. “Come with me to The Blue Pony, in your own disguise. Be by my side. If you’re there, I think I can be strong. I can fight these demons.”
He caught her fingers and lifted them to his heart.
“Watching you endanger yourself makes me sick,” he admitted. “But I have never thought you weren’t strong.”
Her gaze lit with surprise and she smiled softly. “Thank you.”
“Is there any other way?”
She shook her head slowly.
He dropped her hand to run his fingers through his hair.
“Very well,” he acquiesced with a sigh. “We will go tomorrow evening. Seeing you there just a night before their plans should spurn Leary and his men into action. And it will probably draw them out. But I’ll be there with you.”
The relief that passed over Emily’s face was almost palpable.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He frowned. “Will you grant me one boon? I would feel more comfortable if you allowed the Tylers to accompany us. Four against their group is much better odds if things go wrong.”
Emily considered that for a moment, then she nodded. “Very well. That will calm Lucas and Ana and it may keep them from reporting this to our superiors.”
“Let us inform them of our plans, then,” Grant sighed.
Emily nodded as she moved to the door to summon Ana and Tyler. But before she pulled the bell, she turned back to him.
“I know it is difficult for you to assist me in this, but it will work out. Perhaps I’ll even exceed your expectations.”
Grant stared at her. When he was first assigned this case, he’d thought her an empty Society widow. Then an intriguing lady of mystery. Then a daring, but uncontrolled spitfire.
But with every moment he spent with her, he realized none of his assumptions had been correct. She was so much more.
“You already do, Emily,” he said as she tugged the bell pull. “You already do.”
Chapter 18
“My God,” Grant breathed as Emily entered her parlor the next night. Except it wasn’t the same Emily he’d come to know in the past few weeks. She had applied every talent she had and was wearing a disguise.
She smiled before she made a little turn to show him the full effect of her costume. He stared. Before him stood the same woman he’d made love to after the exchange at The Blue Pony. The flaming red wig capped Emily’s head and heavy makeup covered the translucent perfection of her real skin. The worn gown she’d donned was different, but it still lifted and padded and separated her lovely breasts until they were on display.
“Remember me?” she purred with the heavy accent that had fooled him so completely that night. His mind hadn’t made the connection then, but his body had always understood who she really was.
And still did, judging from the heavy desire that settled in his loins.
“I do remember you, miss,” he teased crossing the room to wrap his arms around her waist.
She tilted her face up and he pressed a firm kiss to her lips, tasting the strawberry sweetness that never failed to wake a deeper hunger inside of him.
He took a step back. “I think I prefer my Emily, though.”
Her lips parted with a gasp of surprise at his words and he blanched. He hadn’t meant to put that particular emphasis on his statement.
She ducked past him. “I—I should get to work on your disguise,” she stammered. “The time.”
He nodded. The subject was obviously closed and it was probably for the best.
Taking a seat, he watched as she snapped open a case she’d brought with her. Inside were makeup and prosthetics of all kinds.
“My,” he breathed.
She smiled as she turned to begin wiping paint across his forehead. “Every spy has a talent, you know. This is mine.”
He looked up at her. Her eyes were the only part of her that was the real Emily, but that was enough to establish the connection that flared between them.
“Not the only one,” he said softly.
“Oh, what are my other talents?” she teased, distracted by her work.
He cupped her backside and drew her closer. She shivered at his touch. “Grant,” she whispered.
He ignored her meek protest as he bunched her skirt into his fist, raising the worn cotton until he could stroke his fingers against her bare thigh.
She let the little sponge in her hand flutter to the floor as she clutched his shoulders. “Grant, the makeup.”
He smiled, wicked. “Oh, I won’t disturb our makeup,” he promised as he parted the wet lips of her sex and stroked a finger across her.
She let her head loll back and let out a low groan as he slipped two fingers inside her clenching sheath.
“Already wet and ready,” he whispered. “Perfect.”
She whimpered as he curled his fingers, stroking over the hidden bundle of nerves within her core. At the same time, he stroked the hooded nub of her clitoris with his thumb. The two sensations together brought her to the brink almost immediately.
“Grant,” she gasped, her eyes wide with the intensity and speed of the pleasure.
“Let go,” he ordered as her body began to flutter with powerful orgasm. She leaned on him as she let out a cry that echoed in the quiet room. Her hips thrust of their own accord, reaching for more and he gave it to her.
Finally, her body relaxed and he withdrew from her wetness. “Seduction is definitely a skill,” he whispered.
She blinked, eyes glazed, as she straightened up with a stagger. “Yours or mine?”
He laughed and handed her the sponge that had fallen away. “You decide.”
She took the item in trembling hands and returned to her work.
When her breathing returned to normal, Grant asked, “So, how did you learn you possessed this particular talent?”
She shrugged, continuing to apply makeup to his face. Only her flushed chest revealed that she had just experienced powerful pleasure.
“During my training, Charlie introduced me to a few stage performers. Those women taught me these things. Showed me how to become a different person.”
He glanced at her. There was a lilt of longing to her tone, but under the costume he couldn’t read her expression.
“Like Leary and the other man were doing with the false Prince, for example?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not quite. I can make myself look like someone different, but not someone specific. That takes much more talent and practice.”
“Hopefully by the end of the night, we’ll know exactly who possesses that talent,” Grant said.
She hesitated in her work. “Yes. By the end of tonight, this will all be over.”
They looked at each other, the moment hanging between them. He knew what she was saying. Everything would be over. There would be no more playful passion. No more days and nights together.
Then she shook her head. “No more talk. I must concentrate to do this properly.”
He followed her instruction, but couldn’t help but ponder her statement. She was right. If they uncovered the truth tonight, their case would be over.
And that wasn’t all that would end before dawn broke again.
Grant leaned back in the uncomf
ortable chair at the card table and stared at Emily. She was standing at the bar in The Blue Pony, spinning a ragged parasol in her hand. The red wig she wore stood out like fire in the drab surroundings. She looked for all the world like she was just another lightskirt having a drink while she waited for whatever fate had in store for her for the night.
Except Grant couldn’t help noticing the subtle way she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Nervous energy probably caused that. Anticipation. The same thing burned in the pit of his own stomach.
How in the world hadn’t he known it was Emily when he first saw her in that costume? It seemed so clear to him now. Emily, though, had had to give a signal to Ana and Lucas when they entered. Grant was surprised her closest friend needed a sign to recognize her. After all, the face and the hair might not be Emily’s, but the sensual pivot of her hips certainly was. The way she tilted her head as she spoke to the man behind the bar. The confident toss of her hair was all Emily.
“If you continue to look at her like that, the entire hell will know she’s more than just a doxy,” Anastasia Tyler whispered sharply as she slapped a card down on the table in front of him.
Grant pulled his gaze away from Emily with much reluctance. Ana was right. His attention put her in danger. But it was virtually impossible not to stare when she was anywhere near him.
Lucas put the next card down and arched a brow. “I thought you said Leary would be here tonight.”
His forehead furrowing, Grant glared at Lucas. “My best information was that he would be. You ought to know that cases aren’t predictable.”
Lucas shot a glance at his wife and a grin tilted up one side of his mouth. “A truer statement was never made.”
A dark blush suddenly covered Ana’s cheeks and Grant had never felt more like an unwanted third party in his life. So, the very proper Mrs. Tyler and her husband had experienced some adventures of their own, had they?
And they had come out whole and married in the end.
“You should have revealed the truth to us sooner,” Ana said through clenched teeth. “If we don’t intercept Leary tonight, tomorrow we might not be able to stop whatever plans he has for the Prince.”
“I’m aware of that fact,” Grant said, pretending calm even though Ana’s comments darkened his mood. “But if you and my superiors had simply trusted in us in the first place, we wouldn’t have been forced to take this case into our own hands and prove our value.”
“I never questioned Emily’s value,” Ana said, dropping her whisper even lower, though her eyes danced with a fire that surprised Grant.
No wonder Tyler looked at her with such adoration. There was a spitfire under that sweet exterior. Not anything like Emily, but with her own charm.
Lucas cleared his throat. “If you two are almost finished arguing, you might want to pay attention to Emily. She seems to be signaling.”
Grant spun to look at her again. She was, indeed, lifting her fingers to her lips. It was the signal they had arranged for her to make if she saw the other man who had chased her during her first trip to The Blue Pony. He raised his eyebrows to let her know he understood and she gave a subtle nod down the bar toward two men who were drinking their pints and talking, their heads close together.
He followed her stare and saw a man he did recognize from that night. He fisted his hands in rage. That bastard had threatened Emily.
“Which one is it?” Ana hissed, bringing him back to focus.
He motioned to the men and Tyler frowned. “I don’t recognize one, but I know the one on the left.”
Grant glanced at the other man beside their culprit. “Who is he?”
“A stage actor and a reasonably good one, at that.”
Grant blinked. A stage actor. Emily said she learned disguise from actresses. It was entirely possible that the other man was the person meant to play the Regent in their plot. The one Emily couldn’t recognize because he had been in his makeup.
Before he could voice his suspicion, Cullen Leary stepped out of the crowd and joined the two men.
Grant’s stomach lurched as he focused his entire attention on Leary. The brute hadn’t seemed to notice Emily yet, but it was only a matter of time. Despite all he knew about her honed skills as a spy, until Leary was under arrest, Grant wouldn’t be comfortable.
A sigh of relief left his lips as Emily’s posture shifted. She was aware of Leary’s presence, too. But then he saw what she was doing: edging closer to the men, perhaps to listen to their conversation. Her hips swished as she moved, catching the attention of some of the bastards around her. Grant held his breath as they leered. And then the moment he had been dreading came.
Leary turned his face and looked at her.
Recognition dawned over his hard, scarred features and he shoved away from the bar to stalk toward her.
Grant bit his lip and forced himself to wait. He had to let Emily do her duty. He couldn’t pounce yet. Not until they were in the right position.
She tensed and backed away, maneuvering toward the hallway just as the four of them had planned. In the back, the others could more easily subdue Leary and his men.
So far, everything was going according to plan. In two steps, Grant would get up. He and the Tylers would follow and they would have Leary trapped. One step…
Suddenly, Leary lunged. He caught Emily’s elbow, dragging her against his side as he yanked her forward at a surprising rate of speed. At the same moment, his cohorts scattered, heading for the front door and the cold night.
“Bollocks,” Lucas hissed as all three of them shoved to their feet.
“Go after the others,” Grant said as he bolted for the hallway where Leary had dragged Emily. “I’ll take care of Emily.”
Lucas cursed again, but he didn’t argue. He and Anastasia ran for the door after the other suspects.
Grant made it to the hallway in a few long steps, but he was met with only empty corridors. Already, Leary was gone and Emily with him.
“Damn it!” he bellowed, panic rising in his chest as he thought of all the torments Emily might be facing if he couldn’t find her.
He pushed them away. He had to take himself out of the worried-lover mode and obtain some distance. That was the best thing he could do for Emily now.
He looked up the back stairs. There was more privacy in the rooms reserved for the lightskirts who frequented the hells and shared a portion of their profits with the owners. Less chance of interruption in the upper chambers. And even if someone heard a struggle, most would only think it was a whore and her customer and never intervene.
Which meant those rooms were the perfect place to take Emily. As he bolted up the stairs, he could only pray Leary hadn’t already taken care of his “problem.” And that Emily would find the strength she had once told Grant that he gave her.
Emily’s blood roared so loudly through her veins that she almost couldn’t hear anything else. Leary’s beefy hand clenched her arm painfully as he hauled her down the long hallway. It took every bit of her training to keep from looking back over her shoulder to see if Grant was coming. If she did that, she would alert Leary to his presence and that could be deadly for them both.
Grant was coming, she had faith in that. But until he did, Emily had to keep her head. Not let terror overcome her. She had trained for this and she had to remember that. She gripped her parasol tighter. At least she had this little secret weapon at her disposal.
“Get in here, gel,” Leary growled as he threw open a door and thrust her inside.
Emily staggered forward at the force of his shove. She couldn’t right her balance and went down hard. Her knees scraped across the wood floor, but she hardly felt the pain. She was too distracted by the way her parasol slipped from her hands and skidded across the floor out of reach. Blast! Now she was really in trouble.
Her breathing quickened, but she managed to slow it. Calm. She had to remain calm.
Flipping over, she readied herself for an attack, but Leary merely
slammed the door and stared down at her.
“You were a fool to come back, girl,” he growled as he advanced on her one step. Emily couldn’t help it, she slid backward across the floor instead of preparing for self-defense.
She drew in a shallow breath before she spoke, hoping it would soothe her. It didn’t.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” she snapped out, focusing hard on keeping up the accent she had given herself and the tremor from her voice. “If you want a night with me, you just have to ask and pay.”
Leary’s eyes swept over her in a harsh motion, but then he grinned. “Hard to resist that offer, tempting morsel that you are, but you remember me. Even a lightskirt like you remembers the man who chased her down. Only thing that kept me from getting you that night was that fancy man who stepped in.”
Leary stopped and his brow wrinkled, as if he was trying to recall something. Emily’s heart lurched. She could only pray he was too drunk to remember seeing Grant in his room a few nights before. If he was clever enough to put those two events together, he might realize she, herself, was in disguise and things could turn very ugly, very quickly.
“’Course I remember you,” she interjected, hoping to distract him from his thoughts. “I figured you was an unsatisfied customer. But that’s no reason to drag me up here.”
Leary lunged for her with surprising speed for a man of his size. He grasped the front of her dress and yanked her to her feet, tearing the thin fabric at the seam of her sleeve.
“Enough foolishness, girl. I know you saw me with my…friends. You saw what we were doing. I can’t let you live after all that.”
Terror gripped Emily’s heart, but she tamped it down. She had to fight, not cower. And she had to do it now.
“That’s a shame, because I’m not ready to die,” she cried as she threw a knee upward. It felt like she hit solid rock, but the move worked because Leary’s grip on her loosened as he bent over in pain.
“Little whore,” he roared as he threw her off.
Emily flew backward, smashing against a nearby chair with a painful crash. She rolled to the side and flipped back up on her feet, sweeping her parasol into her hand as she moved. Leary straightened up, eyes dark with anger and pain as he moved toward her like a charging bull.
Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] Page 20
