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Authors: Shana Galen
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pianoforte and the music stands housing her much-neglected sheet music. She walked silently, used to secretly climbing the dark staircase in the wee hours, knowing which floorboards creaked and which nooks servants might use for late-night rendezvous.
When she reached the second floor, she paused outside her bedroom door and glanced down the hallway. Adrian’s bedroom was on the opposite side, two doors down.
She remembered being relieved when, after they married, Adrian had not insisted she take the room adjoining his. Having her room across the hall gave her much more freedom of movement on nights like tonight. Now she saw it gave Adrian equal freedom.
She was tempted to listen at his door to determine if he’d arrived home yet, but she decided against it. She’d had enough confrontations with her husband tonight. Safer and more practical to slip into her own room, lock the door, and make plans for beginning her investigation tomorrow.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust herself, she thought as she slipped the key to her bedroom from her pocket and put it in the keyhole. Nothing would occur if she was standing outside Adrian’s room and he happened to open the door.
Shirtless.
Hair tousled.
The same smoky look in his eyes he’d given her earlier tonight when she’d removed her mantle.
She opened her bedroom door and checked that the trap she left had not been sprung. It was still full of ink, so she disabled it, closed the door, and leaned her forehead against the hard wood frame. She felt almost breathless remembering Adrian’s gaze on her. He’d acted as though she were stripping bare, when, in reality, underneath the mantle she wore her gown, her shift, her petticoats, and her stockings.
She hadn’t been the least bit indecent. And yet, she couldn’t remember Adrian ever looking at her like that, even when she had been indecent before him.
She hadn’t known he had heat like that in him. She hadn’t known it would cause something akin to a volcanic eruption in her. Her belly was still full of tremors and flutters. Now they tickled their way down, settling into a low throbbing ache between her legs.
She almost groaned aloud before she managed to push the desire away. He was another spy. A competitor. This attraction for him was nothing more than weakness and, like any weakness that might interfere with an assignment, it had to be dismantled and destroyed.
Now she need have but one thought—to change from these damp, filthy clothes and into something clean and warm. She stepped back from the door and reached for the tie of her mantle. She yanked on the cord once, and then her hands stilled. With effort, she kept them from shaking.
She wasn’t alone.
She didn’t know how she knew; it was a whisper of her intuition in her ear. Anyone else would have shaken it off as paranoia, but all of Sophia’s senses snapped to attention.
Her eyes darted to the trap by the door—a simple string and pulley a child could rig.
“Simple but effective,” a man’s voice said from behind her.
Sophia whirled and watched Adrian rise from where he’d been reclining on her bed. The moonlight filtering through her curtains illuminated his face, which, to her annoyance, was free of ink. “Obviously not effective enough, my lord.” Another glance at the trap confirmed the ink that should have sprayed all over any intruder was still intact and untouched.
Damn it!
Adrian spread his hands. He had already changed into a clean shirt and breeches. How had he made it back so quickly? “It’s a bit amateurish. Easy to circumnavigate.”
“Apparently.” Her hands were still at her throat, and she realized now they were clutching her mantle close to her skin. She did not think it wise to remove the outer garment with Adrian in her bedroom, so near to her bed, but she could see he was watching her—his eyes alert for any sign of weakness. If she continued to clutch the mantle to her throat, he was going to find what
When she reached the second floor, she paused outside her bedroom door and glanced down the hallway. Adrian’s bedroom was on the opposite side, two doors down.
She remembered being relieved when, after they married, Adrian had not insisted she take the room adjoining his. Having her room across the hall gave her much more freedom of movement on nights like tonight. Now she saw it gave Adrian equal freedom.
She was tempted to listen at his door to determine if he’d arrived home yet, but she decided against it. She’d had enough confrontations with her husband tonight. Safer and more practical to slip into her own room, lock the door, and make plans for beginning her investigation tomorrow.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust herself, she thought as she slipped the key to her bedroom from her pocket and put it in the keyhole. Nothing would occur if she was standing outside Adrian’s room and he happened to open the door.
Shirtless.
Hair tousled.
The same smoky look in his eyes he’d given her earlier tonight when she’d removed her mantle.
She opened her bedroom door and checked that the trap she left had not been sprung. It was still full of ink, so she disabled it, closed the door, and leaned her forehead against the hard wood frame. She felt almost breathless remembering Adrian’s gaze on her. He’d acted as though she were stripping bare, when, in reality, underneath the mantle she wore her gown, her shift, her petticoats, and her stockings.
She hadn’t been the least bit indecent. And yet, she couldn’t remember Adrian ever looking at her like that, even when she had been indecent before him.
She hadn’t known he had heat like that in him. She hadn’t known it would cause something akin to a volcanic eruption in her. Her belly was still full of tremors and flutters. Now they tickled their way down, settling into a low throbbing ache between her legs.
She almost groaned aloud before she managed to push the desire away. He was another spy. A competitor. This attraction for him was nothing more than weakness and, like any weakness that might interfere with an assignment, it had to be dismantled and destroyed.
Now she need have but one thought—to change from these damp, filthy clothes and into something clean and warm. She stepped back from the door and reached for the tie of her mantle. She yanked on the cord once, and then her hands stilled. With effort, she kept them from shaking.
She wasn’t alone.
She didn’t know how she knew; it was a whisper of her intuition in her ear. Anyone else would have shaken it off as paranoia, but all of Sophia’s senses snapped to attention.
Her eyes darted to the trap by the door—a simple string and pulley a child could rig.
“Simple but effective,” a man’s voice said from behind her.
Sophia whirled and watched Adrian rise from where he’d been reclining on her bed. The moonlight filtering through her curtains illuminated his face, which, to her annoyance, was free of ink. “Obviously not effective enough, my lord.” Another glance at the trap confirmed the ink that should have sprayed all over any intruder was still intact and untouched.
Damn it!
Adrian spread his hands. He had already changed into a clean shirt and breeches. How had he made it back so quickly? “It’s a bit amateurish. Easy to circumnavigate.”
“Apparently.” Her hands were still at her throat, and she realized now they were clutching her mantle close to her skin. She did not think it wise to remove the outer garment with Adrian in her bedroom, so near to her bed, but she could see he was watching her—his eyes alert for any sign of weakness. If she continued to clutch the mantle to her throat, he was going to find what
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