Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] Read Online Free Page B

steps in the dance.
    It was an odd feeling, the intensity of his stare. Over the years, she had made it her business to observe those around her. To watch them for every movement, every little thing that might reveal their darkest secrets. In that study of human behavior, she’d learned things that did not relate to cases. One such tidbit was that very few people ever really looked at each other. Fewer still met the eyes of their companions.
    Grant Ashbury was doing both. Holding her captive with dark and devastating eyes. Eyes that searched deeper, looked for things she did not normally allow anyone to find.
    Feeling hot blood flood her cheeks, Emily broke the stare. The music came to an end at the exact same moment and she extracted herself from Grant’s warm arms to give him a slight curtsey.
    “Thank you, my lord, for the dance and for your assistance,” she said, hating the slight tremor in her voice. Hating that she was suddenly too cowardly to look the man in the face.
    He reached for her hand and she let him lead her from the dance floor, ignoring the sparks of awareness that made her whole arm tingle.
    “It was my pleasure to come to your aid, my lady,” he answered with a cocky grin. “If you ever need rescuing again, do not hesitate to call upon me.”
    Her chin tilted up with his comment and she stared at him. He continued to smile, but there was something serious in his eyes.
    “Thank you,” she managed to squeak out. “I—I will keep that generous offer in mind. If you will excuse me, I believe I see some friends across the room.”
    Grant arched a brow, but tilted his head in acquiescence. “Good evening, my lady.”
    She nodded before she turned and fled away. Her heart raced with every step, her breath caught as she moved blindly through the crowd. What was wrong with her? One handsome man met her eyes and she forgot her training and purpose? Perhaps Charlie was right. Perhaps she was changed. Too changed to continue with her work.
    “Emily!”
    Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Meredith and her husband, the Marquis of Carmichael, Tristan Archer. Meredith grasped both her hands. “You are very pale, are you well?”
    Emily took a few breaths as Meredith’s fingers warmed her suddenly chilly ones. “Yes, yes, of course.”
    “Are you in pain?” Tristan asked, his voice low so no one else would hear.
    She shook her head, realizing they thought her expression was due to her injury. Despite her attempts to hide her occasional discomfort, her friends noticed. “No, there is no pain.”
    Meredith’s face relaxed, some of the worry draining away. “Tristan, will you—”
    He nodded even before she finished her question, like he was able to read her mind. “I’ll fetch some wine, of course.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and squeezed before he headed into the crowd.
    Emily turned her head to avoid Meredith’s stare and focused her energy on calming her ragged nerves.
    Meredith tilted her head. “Let’s go outside and get some air, yes?”
    Emily nodded, though she hardly heard Meredith’s suggestion. Instead her mind rung with tangled thoughts. Thoughts about being unfit for duty. Thoughts of the night when she had been shot. And thoughts of Grant Ashbury, his seeing stare, her secret duty to protect him and his offer on the dance floor to do the same for her.
    Blindly, she followed Meredith out to the terrace.
    The cold night hit her like a slap, jarring her from her turbulent emotions. Her vision began to clear and her mind quieted as she sucked in great gulps of the frosty air.
    “I saw you dancing with Lord Westfield,” Meredith said softly. “Whatever happened to make you look so…lost, Emily?”
    Lost. That was the best word for it. She felt lost.
    “I don’t know.”
    She shrugged. Normally she wouldn’t admit a weakness, even to one of her best friends. No matter how close she was to Meredith and Ana, trust was still a difficult beast to manage. Out