Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (12 page)

She broke off when Grant’s gaze suddenly focused squarely on her mouth. Hot want cut through her and she gripped her hands into fists to keep from launching herself at him and throwing propriety and everything else to the wind.

He cleared his throat and the harsh sound seemed to cut through the room like the crack of a gunshot. “You say we were assigned to chase each other because we’re both labeled unfit for duty. Why do you claim to be unfit for duty?”

Now it was her turn to flinch. She’d known he’d ask her that, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. If she wanted him to partner with her, she couldn’t reveal the turbulent, crippling emotions that sometimes gripped her.

“I think I am fit,” she explained, her chin jutting out with all the shredded pride she had left. “But six months ago when the world believes I grew gravely ill, I was actually shot while in the field.”

Grant paled.

“That’s when I received the scar you uncovered,” she continued as her fingers naturally moved to cover the spot where the bullet cut through her. Flutters of leftover pain made themselves known, a shadow of that night. “I nearly died. And my superior officer and partners tell me over and over that I’ve changed since. They don’t think I’m ready to work on any real cases. Which is why I believe I was assigned to protect a man who clearly needs no protection.”

Grant was still so silent that Emily wanted to scream in frustration. He had asked questions, but she was no closer to knowing if he was enraged, defeated, or even if he believed her.

“We were meant to pursue each other around London for a few weeks, Grant,” she continued. “A merry chase that would lead to nothing.”

She moved forward another step, now just inches from him. His body heat wrapped around her and she wanted nothing more than to rest her forehead against his chest. Feel his arms come around her and offer that comfort she had never thought she’d find there.

“We were both deceived. Please—please tell me you believe me,” she pleaded.

He didn’t blink. “May I have my watch?”

She shut her eyes at his cold tone. Fighting uncharacteristic tears for the second time that afternoon, Emily stepped to the poorboy and unlocked a small drawer where she had deposited Grant’s watch earlier in anticipation of their meeting. She took the cool circle of metal and walked back to him, watching his face with every movement.

He held out his hand, motioning for her to give over the piece. But instead of dropping it into his palm, she placed her hand in his while putting her other hand beneath, cocooning him with her fingers.

“Grant, there is one final thing I want to confess.”

He smirked, but did not withdraw from her touch. “Is it the reason why you kept your identity a secret, made love to me and left me trapped in the bedroom of your little hideaway?”

She wanted to turn away from those pointed accusations, but didn’t. She was certain they were a test as much as a slur meant to cut her.

“The night I went to The Blue Pony, I was looking for you. A contact told me you’d been seen there a handful of times over the past few months.”

Grant’s gaze grew sharp. “Horace Jenkins.”

She drew back. So he knew about that. Impressive.

“Yes. But if I had gone to the hells looking like Emily Redgrave, I might have been recognized by the men of Society who spend their time there. I would have been like a kitten that roamed into a wolf’s den. So I put on the disguise you saw me in. I was fulfilling the duty I’d been given, not yet realizing that we were both being deceived.”

She clutched his hand tighter. This could be her last chance to make a plea. From the look in his eyes, he wanted to push her away and walk out, probably forever.

“But I saw something that night.” Her breath quivered out in uneven gasps. “Something that is a real and true case. While looking for you, I saw a man being made up in the disguise of the Prince Regent.”

Grant jolted.

“Yes,” she hurried on. “And Cullen Leary was with him. Grant, if I hadn’t observed the stranger being made up, I might not have realized it was not truly the Prince. The disguise was almost flawless. Leary saw me,
that
was why he made chase. I ran into you, but it wasn’t by design. I saw it as an opportunity to remove you from harm’s way. That was the only reason I begged for your help.”

There was a long pause as Grant stared down at her. “And was making love to me part of your plan to keep me from harm’s way as well?” he finally asked, so quietly that she would not have heard him if she hadn’t been so close.

She shook her head. “It was not. You were following me, pressing me, interrogating me, though at the time I had no idea how you could be so skilled at questioning as you are. I tried to escape into the bedroom, where I hoped to lock the door and creep from the window, but you were too quick. You were so close to the truth, so I”—she blushed with the memory—“I kissed you to distract you. I never meant for it to go so far, but then you touched me and I couldn’t say no. I—I didn’t want to say no.”

There was a flicker of desire Grant couldn’t hide and it called out to her, caused an equal reaction in her trembling body. Slowly, he cupped her cheek in one hand. She leaned into his palm with a shuddering sigh.

“Grant,” she whispered, fighting to stay focused. “I must know. Do you believe me? And if you do, are you so angry that you won’t help me? Because I believe this case involving the Prince could be enormous. And I want…no, I
need
your help if I’m to uncover the truth.”

“Emily—” he began.

She shook her head to cut off what she was sure would be his arguments against her request. “It could be the only opportunity to prove ourselves worthy to our superiors. To end the whispers that we’re not capable. Will you help me?”

G
rant’s mind spun. There was so much unexpected information bombarding him from every side that he could scarce take it all in, let alone come up with a coherent answer for Emily’s pointed question.

Emily. Dear God,
Emily
had been the woman he made love to. The woman who altered his world in just a few short hours. And she was a spy.

That thought began to sink in, pushing out the others.
Emily
was a spy. She had been attacked in the past, nearly died if the size of her scar was any indication. And a few nights ago…damn it, a few nights ago she’d almost been run down by Cullen Leary. Grant knew full well Leary wouldn’t show mercy just because she was a woman.

In fact, if she’d been captured, he would have taken perverse pleasure in tormenting her before he snuffed out her life.

Grant clenched and unclenched his fists at the idea. And at the memories that were creeping in. Memories of Davina’s broken body. Her empty, lifeless eyes. He’d sworn he would never see another woman he cared for in danger like that again. That he would keep all women at arm’s length to prevent exposing them to his perilous life. But Emily lived the same kind of life. One filled with risk, where she could die at any moment. The thought turned Grant’s stomach.

“Grant?” Emily’s voice was distant through the haze of his memories, but he could hear her concern.

He stepped forward and caught her arms before she had a chance to back away. It proved his point before he said a word. Emily might be everything she claimed, but she couldn’t escape him.

“How can you put yourself at such risk?” he asked, his breath coming in heaving pants. “How? Especially since you’ve been injured before. How can you ask me to work with you against someone as treacherous as Leary? To watch you put yourself in harm’s way? I can’t protect you!”

Her eyes narrowed and then she moved. It was so sudden, so smooth, it took Grant off guard. She whipped her hands upward, striking his forearms with enough force that pain ricocheted up to his shoulders. His grip broke and she caught his arms. With a twist and a pull, she wrenched his hands upward at the same time she swept her feet beneath his.

Grant found himself on his back with Emily on top of him, straddling his lap.

“I don’t want your protection,” she panted. “I want your help in my investigation. There is a difference.”

Grant shifted his hips to one side and as she adjusted, threw all his force into the other. She rolled onto her back with a low grunt and he covered her with his body.

She arched her back, but he stiffened and didn’t bend to her will, despite how surprisingly strong she was. He hadn’t been put to the ground by a sparring partner in months, perhaps even a year or more. He couldn’t help but be impressed by her abilities.

But he was even more distracted by the way her body shifted beneath him. Warm and soft. She was still disheveled from their earlier encounter. The one that had left him frustrated and on edge. The feel of her beneath him now awoke his ready cock and it came to attention with surprising speed.

He held her steady and watched her eyes widen as she felt the length of him press against her stomach.

“In the field, everything can shift in a heartbeat, Emily,” he managed to whisper on a ragged breath.

She nodded, breathless and he didn’t think it was from exertion. “I know that. Trust I know that fact better than most.”

“Then you know why I can’t work with you.” He lowered his head toward hers and felt her hot breath against his skin. He wanted to melt into her, even though she was exactly the kind of woman he had vowed to avoid. “Just give me all the information you have and I’ll be happy to investigate what you’ve uncovered.”

She tilted her head to the side in anticipation of his kiss, even as her eyes lit with anger at his statement. “That is not an option. Either you work with me, or I’ll investigate this on my own. Those are your two choices.”

Grant rolled off of her.

“Fuck!”

Emily didn’t even flinch at the ugly word, but watched him through a hooded gaze. She propped herself up on her elbows as he flopped onto his back with a frustrated grunt.

“What if I report this?” he spat, angry at her for courting danger and angry at himself for how strongly he physically reacted to her.

She shrugged. “Then we both lose the case. We both go back to being assigned mundane office duties. Or worse, dismissed from our organizations completely.”

He covered his eyes with his hands. Damn her, she was correct. If he reported this to his superiors, they would take the case away. If he wanted to work in the field, prove himself, he would have to come to them when he had so many facts that it would take too long to acclimate another agent.

“You know I’m correct,” she said softly, her voice like a siren’s. And he was nothing but a desperate sailor, drawn to her even though he knew partnering with her could come to no good end.

He uncovered his eyes and looked at her. She was delectable, despite lying on the parlor floor, her elbows supporting her, her hair tangled, dress cockeyed.

What the hell would he do if she were threatened again? The mere thought tightened his chest. But he had no choice. If he didn’t partner with her, she’d already claimed she would soldier on alone. At least he could guard her if he was by her side.

“Yes, you are correct.” He ground out another curse. “Fine. We’ll work together. It’s the only way either of us will ever prove we’re worthy for the field. And it’s the only way I can insure your safety.”

Her expression softened in surprise at the last statement. “I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but I assure you I’m quite capable. I think I proved that a moment ago.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I’ll do so just the same.”

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. God, he wanted to taste her again. But certainly she wouldn’t allow that now that they were partners. Even the greenest recruit knew combining pleasure with investigation was a volatile mix.

Except that Emily was looking at him like he was just as irresistible to her as she was to him. And it was hazardous and erotic.

“You—you know that night we shared…it meant something to me, don’t you?” she asked, pushing to her knees as she inched closer to him.

He sat up, watching her seductive movements. His erection tightened painfully at the sight. He thought about her question, about her reactions to his touch that night. “Yes. I think it did.”

“Did it—did it mean something to you?” she whispered.

Dear God, didn’t she know? Hadn’t she felt it?

He reached for her even though he shouldn’t. And he realized he was going to answer honestly even though he ought to protect himself. “It meant a great deal to me.”

Relief made her eyes even brighter and more beautiful than they normally were. It almost hurt to look at them, but he couldn’t turn away.

“Then I want something else from you.” A pretty blush colored her cheeks as she spoke. “Something aside from the partnership I’ve asked for and the protection you’ve offered.”

“What is it?” he asked and heard the hoarseness in his voice. The rough quality brought on by desire.

She reached out and ran a fingertip along his cheekbone, tracing the line down to his jaw and then brushing across his lips. It took every ounce of willpower to not suck the digit into his mouth, pull her against him.

“I want you.” Her gaze met his without hesitation. “There is a draw between us that is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Perhaps it’s not as powerful for you as it is for me, but I know you want me. Even now, I know you do.”

He nodded, too shocked to speak.

“And I want that. Normally I don’t give in to my baser needs, but since the night I nearly died, I haven’t—” She stopped and Grant felt himself leaning forward.

“What?” he asked, his voice so low it barely carried.

She swallowed hard. “I haven’t felt alive. And that night I shared with you, I did. It made me forget everything else and I—I need that. So will you consider”—she stopped and Grant almost roared in frustration—“will you have an affair with me for the duration of the time we work together?”

Emily held her breath. Oh, her words were bold, very bold indeed, but inside she felt anything but. Admitting her desire made her vulnerable. Not a feeling she was accustomed to.

Grant’s expression did not help. He was simply
staring
at her, mouth open, eyes wide, looking for all the world like she had suggested he run through Mayfair naked or something equally shocking. Her suggestion could not be that distasteful to him, could it? After all, when they wrestled for control she’d felt the very insistent evidence of his desire for her. Even if she hadn’t, he’d nearly taken her on the settee before he’d known the truth. That physical connection between them couldn’t have faded in such a short time.

“Emily, what you’re asking, do you truly mean it?” he choked out, his voice low and unreadable.

She nodded, thrusting her shoulders back as she fought to maintain the outward appearance of cool control. She couldn’t let him know that her needs terrified her or that waiting for his answer frightened her nearly as much.

“I am not the type of lady who would ask for this lightly,” she said, gripping the folds of her gown in tight fists. “I am utterly serious. I’ve considered the consequences, the possible pitfalls, and I am willing to take the risk. Are you not?”

His jaw tightened. “Your reputation—”

She shrugged. “I’m a widow. As long as we are discreet, I don’t know why my reputation would be in any greater risk than the many other women of my rank who take their pleasure outside of the bonds of matrimony.”

“And what of the potential for creating a child?” he asked.

She flinched. Now he was cutting close to the bone. Close to a painful place her late husband had ferreted out and dug into whenever possible.

“There are methods to avoid a pregnancy,” she whispered. Oh, and she knew them all well. “We would be careful, of course. I have no desire to end my career as a spy or to subject a child to the pain of being a bastard.”

“No child of mine would ever be a bastard,” Grant said so quietly that she nearly didn’t hear him.

Her head lifted sharply at his harsh declaration. He looked deathly serious. He wouldn’t want a bastard child in his life. Her stomach turned, tightened.

Of course, he wouldn’t. She’d learned from bitter life experience that men of a certain class and upbringing didn’t want illegitimate children around as a reminder of their past transgressions. Blood bonds and pedigrees were very important to them, whether in their wives or their children. Few gifted their ill-born kin with anything more than money. She’d known that her whole life, it came as no surprise.

“Do you not want me?” she asked, holding his gaze even when she wanted to look away. “Your hesitance makes me wonder…”

His eyes widened again and he reached out to catch her fingertips in his warm hands. “Emily, you know I desire you. I think the heat that has sprung up between us, as unexpected as it has been, is evident. I only fear an affair could complicate whatever partnership we form. And when the case is over, what would an affair mean?”

Emily drew back with surprise he would even ask such a question. She was offering a tryst, not demanding a commitment. Anything more than a physical relationship was beyond her reach. All she could hope was that Grant would continue to make her feel alive, lessen her fears of the danger surrounding her. And in the end, she would let him go. He would find a proper wife one day, and she would return to her duties.

She cleared her throat. “Emotion is what complicates sex, I think.”

She thought of all the turbulent emotions that had clouded her relationship with her husband. Fear, loathing, anger, longing…those emotions had bound her to the man and kept her from running from him. They’d given him enormous power, and she had vowed never to give
anyone
that kind of sway over her again.

Grant nodded. “Probably true.”

“There is no reason why we should involve our emotions, is there?”

Her heart stirred, reminding her she had already developed some feelings for this man. When she believed he hated her, she hadn’t been able to keep tears from filling her eyes.

She shoved those thoughts aside.

He tilted his head. “Could you do that?”

Her lips thinned. “Could you? Do not assume that just because I am a woman means I cannot master my emotions. That was part of my training as much as it was yours. If I choose not to allow anything outside of lust into my heart, then nothing else will have entry. I’ll make utterly sure of it. Can you say the same?”

Something flickered in his gaze. Something that called to her in a way that belied her strong statement.

“Yes, I am able to separate emotion from lust.” His lids drew heavier and his gaze dropped from hers to focus on her lips, then lower. Her body reacted accordingly, warming as wet desire flooded her thighs and made the insistent ache of want thrum to life. “And I want you, Emily. I want you so much that I ache to touch you, despite every argument that this can lead to no good.”

She leaned forward, placing her hands on each of his shoulders as she rose up on her knees to lift her lips toward his.

“Is that a yes to my offer?”

He brought his mouth down in answer, but the kiss did not claim, as she expected it to. His lips brushed hers, light at first, then increasing in pressure. Like he was savoring her, drawing out the kiss for as long as he could to test her control. To test his own.

“Yes, Emily. God help me, but yes,” he murmured as he broke his lips from hers.

“Now,” she murmured as she drew his mouth down again.

“Now?” He broke away to look into her eyes.

She nodded.
“Now.”

He cupped her chin, tilted her face up, and groaned. “Yes, now. But not here. Not in some parlor where any servant could burst in. Not on the floor or on a cramped settee. And this time, I want to see you. I want to see everything about you, Emily.”