Sebastian's Lady Spy Read online

  Sebastian’s Lady Spy is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept eBook Original

  Copyright © 2015 by Sharon Cullen

  Excerpt from Pleasing the Pirate by Sharon Cullen copyright © 2014 by Sharon Cullen

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 9781101883044

  Cover design: Seductive Designs

  Cover photograph: Taria Reed/The Reed Files

  www.readloveswept.com

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  By Sharon Cullen

  About the Author

  The Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Pleasing the Pirate

  Prologue

  Sebastian Addison, earl of Claybrook, eminent spy to the English crown, rolled off his lover and breathed deep in satisfaction.

  Contessa Gabrielle Marciano snuggled against his side, all warm and moist from their lovemaking. Automatically his arm went around her, and he dragged her closer, drawing in her exotic scent of jasmine and sandalwood.

  His lover.

  He’d had many lovers in his past, many women he’d bedded, many of whose faces he could not recall, let alone their names. But Gabrielle…she was different. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Intelligent and funny and warm. She understood him in ways no other had. And yet he could not have her. Not permanently.

  The thought saddened and angered him at the same time. He’d given up many things to become a premier spy, and one was any sort of long-term commitment. It had never bothered him before, but it bothered him immensely now.

  Beside him, she hummed in contentment. He knew it was contentment. They’d been together three days, and already he knew so much about her—and yet so little. She hummed when she was content. She curled her toes when her release was imminent. She adored dark chocolate and liked to lie on the bed and watch him with those dark, dark eyes as he talked to her.

  Yet there was much he didn’t know about her. And there was much she didn’t know about him. And that was the way it had to be.

  He knew from past experience that ending the relationship could be messy. But he also knew that Gabrielle would be different. She wouldn’t cry. She would calmly accept. He’d told her from the beginning that whatever happened between them would be short-term, and she had readily—almost too readily—agreed. That was strange in itself, but he didn’t question it.

  Today was the end of the best three days of his life. It had come far too quickly for his satisfaction. There was no other option. He had to be in France in a few days. Another mission the crown needed him for. There was always another mission, another villain, another person bent on destroying England. Sometimes he was so damn weary of it, but this was the life he’d chosen, and in his heart he knew he was doing good.

  Today, however, he wasn’t feeling that way. Today he wanted to pull the covers up over them and make love to Gabrielle until they were breathless, and then they would eat and talk and laugh and make love all over again.

  Wishes were for other men. Not for Sebastian.

  He looked at Gabrielle, who was staring at him with those beautiful dark eyes that always seemed to see too much.

  “It’s time,” she said, seeming to read his mind.

  “Gabrielle—”

  “Shhh.” She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing his words. “We said from the beginning that this was only temporary. We knew the end would come sooner than we would like. I can’t…” She pulled her finger away and looked softly into his eyes. “I can’t give you more than I already have. The truth is, I’ve been called away from Venice and must leave within a day or two. It’s time,” she repeated.

  He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. “What happened here, these last three days, I’ll never forget.”

  Her eyes were sparkling with tears. “And neither will I. Thank you.”

  There was an unexpected lump in his throat and pressure behind his eyes. Really, there was nothing else to say. There was no use wishing for something that couldn’t be, and there were no more words to be said.

  He slipped out of bed and dressed silently. When he was finished, he turned to soak in the vision of her. Her nearly black hair was tousled about her shoulders and trailing to the bed. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen and red. She held the bedsheets over her bosom, but he still saw their swell. He paused, suddenly unwilling to leave.

  “Goodbye, Sebastian.”

  Her words were like a dagger to the gut, swift and painful and shocking. “Goodbye, my lady.”

  Chapter 1

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  Sebastian lounged wearily in the chair opposite Sir Colin Atwater’s desk and watched his contact in the Office of Intelligence shuffle papers.

  “We have a new mission for you,” Atwater said.

  “I recently came off a mission.”

  “We are aware, but this is urgent.”

  “They’re all urgent.”

  “This one is even more urgent.” Atwater tapped the papers together, avoiding eye contact.

  “How so?” Sebastian asked.

  “You’ll, uh, be working with someone.”

  “I don’t work with other people.”

  “We must insist that this time you do.”

  “I work alone. I always have. It’s best that way.” Frustrated that he’d been called in for this, Sebastian stood and turned toward the door with every intention of leaving the silly conversation.

  “We are aware that you prefer to work alone—”

  Sebastian sighed in exasperation and turned back. “There is no preference to it. A preference implies that you have a choice in what I do. You don’t.”

  “Yes. Well. In this instance the king requires it. This particular mission needs two operatives. It’s highly—”

  “Then find someone else. I’m off to my country estate to see to neglected business.” Such as looking over ledgers, meeting with his steward, and reading a good book in front of a roaring fire with his dogs at his feet. It had been far too long since he’d done any of that. His steward and his dogs were feeling forsaken, and his body ached to take a rest. At this point he didn’t care whom he angered.

  “You can’t leave, my lord. The crown forbids it.”

  Sebastian paused, his lips quirking in amusement. “The crown forbids it? Now you have me intrigued. But not enough to remain and discover what this mission is about. As much as it pains me to admit, there are many other excellent operatives. One of them will surely do.” Deciding to be generous, he added, “Pick that Harrison fellow. He will be pleased to accept such a mission.”

  “Harr
ison is otherwise occupied.”

  Sebastian frowned. “Then Kristoff. Hell, I don’t care whom you pick as long as it isn’t me.”

  Atwater yanked on the bell pull.

  Immediately the door opened. A woman’s voice drifted through, not loud enough that Sebastian could hear the words; more the sound, the cadence. And it stopped him cold. He’d been in many tight situations in his career, but he doubted he’d ever broken into such a cold sweat. “What the hell is this about?” he asked Atwater in a furious whisper.

  “Your partner.”

  His partner, who had yet to step around the door, said something to the footman, then laughed. The sound sliced through him as precisely and painfully as a saber. He’d had that feeling only one other time. Seven months ago, to be precise.

  She stepped into his line of sight, and Sebastian’s stomach twisted into a knot.

  Her smile was wide, her dark, dark eyes sparkling. All that black hair was piled atop her head with tendrils escaping and curling around her face and down her neck. Sebastian’s entire body clenched in memory as his gaze swept over her, cataloging everything from the tops of her creamy breasts to her waist, which he could span with his hand, to her navy blue shoes that peeked out from the hem of her navy blue gown. She executed a quick, almost impertinent curtsy. Just the way he remembered.

  “My lord.”

  For a long moment Sebastian couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. All he could do was withstand the tidal wave of emotions and memories breaking over him. Emotions he’d fought so hard to overcome.

  Sebastian spun on his heel and pierced Atwater with a glare. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I would like to introduce—”

  Sebastian slashed his hand through the air, cutting off Atwater’s words before they formed. He didn’t want to hear her name. He didn’t want to hear her voice, and he certainly was not going to work with her. It had taken him seven months—seven months—to get her out of his system. He would not allow Atwater to ruin his hard work. What were the chances that when they finally decided he should partner, it would be with her? Why her? She wasn’t even an operative, damn it.

  “If for some reason I did decide to partner with someone—which I would never do—that person would be an operative.” And never a woman. The words were left unsaid but resonated through the room.

  “Yes, well.” Atwater darted a quick glance at her. “As I was saying, Lord Claybrook, may I introduce Contessa Gabrielle Marciano. The contessa is an operative for the crown.”

  It took all of Sebastian’s effort not to reveal his shock. She didn’t appear to be nearly as surprised as he felt, which led him to believe that she’d known he was an operative and played him for a fool all those months ago. Or maybe she was just as good as he was at hiding thoughts.

  “As I said”—he infused his voice with disdain, refusing to reveal either the shock of this revelation or the tumultuous excitement and regret and even fear upon seeing her again—“find someone else.” He headed toward the door.

  She was blocking his way, and he advanced on her, silently challenging her. She should have stepped out of his way. Any other woman would have. Hell, any man would have. But as he had learned in Venice, this was no ordinary woman. She stood her ground and met his furious growl with a cool look. Her insolent chin tilted up, and God help him, he wanted to take that chin in his hands and kiss her senseless.

  He jerked his head in a poor semblance of a nod. “Good day, my lady.”

  When he stepped to go around her, she shifted in front of him, her steady gaze challenging. “Is something amiss, my lord?” Her Italian accent wrapped around him and held him in a strong embrace.

  “As I was telling Atwater earlier, I work alone.” When in the world did she become an operative? And why hadn’t she told him seven months ago? Bloody hell, why did it hurt so much to find out now?

  “This time you don’t,” Atwater said, his voice hard and uncompromising. “The crown has heard rumors of a Jacobite stirring.”

  “The Jacobites were silenced six years ago, after the ’45 uprising,” Sebastian said, not taking his eyes off her.

  “There are supporters who would like to see another uprising,” Atwater said. “We have information that indicates France plans to use the Jacobites to distract us so they can move onto English soil.”

  Sebastian had heard the same rumors. However, he wasn’t as concerned as Atwater or the crown. Bonnie Prince Charlie was rusticating in Rome, far into his cups, and more than likely hadn’t given two thoughts to Scotland. “France can never win against us,” Sebastian said.

  “Nevertheless, we need to find the instigator, whom we believe is someone of the aristocracy. We need you and the contessa to attend as many balls and soirees as possible. Listen and watch and discover who the perpetrator is. A couple would be less obvious than a lone person.”

  Gabrielle raised a brow, her lips quirking, but her eyes told a different story. She was wary of Sebastian; she didn’t know what to expect. There were memories lodged in her deep eyes that he didn’t want to acknowledge, for that would lead him down a path he had walked away from seven months ago. That they had both walked away from.

  Stepping out of that bedchamber had been the single hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d relived that night so many times in his mind, wondering what would have happened if he had stayed or if he had said something different. What if he had told her his secrets? Would she have accepted him?

  Now he knew that she had known all along.

  I can’t give you more than I already have. The truth is, I’ve been called away from Venice and must leave within a day or two. It’s time.

  Out of all the words she had said to him, those had stuck in his mind the most. He’d always wondered what she meant. He was beginning to suspect he knew. She, too, had been called away on another mission.

  Damnation, but he was a fool.

  “This is work that a fresh operative can do,” he said, far more weakly than he’d intended. She was already softening him. Making him weak. “Let someone else make his mark on this case and use it to rise in the ranks. I hardly see what I can do that someone else can’t.”

  “His Majesty wants you,” Atwater said.

  “I am unable. I’m leaving for the country, so the contessa will have to work with someone else.”

  Once again he headed toward the door, but a whizzing noise stopped him short as a dagger flew past his nose and imbedded itself in the doorframe. He stared at the quivering hilt for a long moment before slowly turning his head toward Gabrielle. “Impressive.”

  She tilted her head in acknowledgment.

  “But unwise. You could have hit me.”

  “If I had wanted to hit you, my lord, I would have.”

  He raked his gaze up and down her slight form. Memories assailed him, stealing his breath and causing him to question every decision he’d made since leaving her in Venice. It would be so easy to let himself slip back to those few days.

  “You have no choice, Lord Claybrook,” Atwood said apologetically. “The two of you will be introduced tonight at Lord and Lady Eastman’s ball, to make your courtship more realistic and to forge an easier path for the contessa. Lord and Lady Eastman work peripherally for the Office of Intelligence. They are aware of your mission, to some extent.”

  “Courtship?” Sebastian raised his brows, ignoring the rest.

  Atwater cleared his throat. “Yes, well, there are some functions for which the contessa will need an escort—”

  “What he is trying to say,” Gabrielle said, “is that due to my tarnished reputation, I will not be invited to certain balls. However, if you and I attend together, you will lend me credibility. There is hardly anything the hostesses can say when the earl of Claybrook arrives with me on his arm.”

  Gabrielle sauntered over and reached across Sebastian to yank her dagger out of the wall. Her scent drifted to him, dark and exotic. He remembered it all too well, and so did his body, for
he was half hard. He shifted away, wishing her silent. Her voice was everything he’d tried to forget but couldn’t. Sultry, with a tinge of an accent that made her seem all the more exotic.

  She ambled away, her amazing hips swaying with each step and making his erection more painful. Those hips. He could easily picture his hands on them, guiding her toward him. He spun on his heel and closed his eyes, breathing through clenched teeth. He fought his attraction with every bit of strength he had. The same attraction he’d battled and lost seven months ago, when he fell into her bed. As much as he wanted to, he could not regret his weakness, but he was damned if he would repeat it.

  “My lord,” Atwater said. “The crown gives you much leeway when it comes to your missions, because you’re one of our best operatives, but this time you have no choice.”

  Sebastian glared at her; she stared back, implacable, inscrutable. Seven months ago her emotions had been stamped on her face. Not so now. A different woman stood before him today. That shouldn’t bother him, but it did, and that knowledge pricked his already boiling anger.

  “How long will this take?” he asked.

  “We have no way of knowing,” Atwater said.

  “So, if I choose to accept this mission, the contessa and I could be working together for the entirety of the season?”

  “Possibly,” Atwater said.

  Her hands were folded before her as if she were a demure young miss, when he knew she was not. Visions of her rising above him, arching her back, screaming his name, broke through the barrier he’d quickly erected.

  Damn her.

  His plan to travel to the country and attend to business, to read that book he’d been looking forward to, slowly faded until it was nothing but a mirage.

  He tipped his head toward her, acknowledging that she had won this round. “Apparently I will see you at the Eastmans’ ball tonight, my lady.”