Page 10 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
Spectre’s lips parted. He could see her turning it over – where was the catch? What trap lay beneath his offer?
Because in a thief’s world, kindness always came with strings.
Finally, her shoulders drooped in resignation. “I’d call you ten types of bastard if I thought it would do any good,” she muttered.
Callahan’s mouth twitched. “Oh, it does wonders for my self-importance, I assure you.”
“You’re a pox.”
“I endeavour to please.”
He guided her from the crowded gambling hall. It was slower going than he’d like, having to weave through the nighttime crowds of Sheung Wan. They stepped onto the Praya, the broad stone quay that swept the circumference of Victoria Harbour. The night breeze off the water was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the alleys, carrying the briny sea scent. At the far end stood the Hongkong Hotel.
Spectre followed him into the building and upstairs to his suite. The sitting room was sumptuous, full of green brocade and mahogany, complete with a pianoforte in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the harbour.
“Goodness,” Spectre said. “Her Majesty certainly knows how to cosset her pets. Is that actual Aubusson carpet?”
Callahan slipped off his coat and tossed it over the back of a bergère. “Even we lowly civil servants appreciate a bit of luxury on occasion. I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments to the Crown representative who secured these lodgings. He does so love decor feedback from wanted criminals.”
Spectre glared at him but continued her circuit, trailing her gloved fingers along the carved marble mantelpiece.
“There’s a spare dressing robe in the washroom if you want to get out of that gown before it squeezes the life out of you,” he said.
Christ, he sounded like a surly innkeeper dismissing an undesirable tenant, not . . . whatever they were to each other now. Adversaries still, to be sure. But adversaries didn’t save each other from assassins in Athens, pluck each other out of Hong Kong opium dens, or offer their beds as sanctuary.
Spectre paused before the wide bay window, stripping off her gloves. Each slow tug was an act of ritual disarmament. Once finished, she reached up to unclasp the heavy garnet pendant nestled at the hollow of her throat, tucking it away into some hidden pocket within the folds of her skirts.
Shedding pieces of her armour.
“I can feel you boring holes into my back with that stare,” she said without turning around. “One might think you’ve never seen a woman before.”
“Just appreciating this novel display of civility between us. Makes for quite the refreshing change, you and me playing nice.”
And it did. There was something profoundly intimate about seeing her like this. Something tantalising about how the lamplight gilded her skin and picked out glints of gold in her blonde hair. She seemed almost . . . approachable.
“Careful, Agent.” The corner of her mouth curved up as she glanced at him. “That almost sounded like sentiment.”
“Don’t get the wrong impression.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Since we’re being so friendly, would you mind helping me with my buttons?”
Bloody hell. She’d likely meant it to sound coy, a bit of light needling. So why did it feel like a gauntlet thrown at his feet?
He crossed the room, fingers finding the row of pearl buttons between her shoulder blades. It should’ve been an easy enough task, but once he realised she wasn’t wearing anything under the gown,easybecameexquisite torture.
He fumbled with the last fastening, his knuckle grazing the dip just above the flare of her hips.
“There,” he said, scarcely recognising his own voice. “Unwrapped.”
She turned, and the movement made her bodice gape. A silvery scar carved a path over the rise of one breast. She had others on her back. A cartographer’s dream of puckered knots and slashes – mementoes of her bloody trade.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Then the dress slithered to the floor as she sauntered into the washroom, giving him an eyeful of creamy skin and gentle curves before the door clicked shut.
Callahan muttered a strangled curse and waited for his pulse to slow. For sanity to return. He was clearly losing his mind to even contemplate whatever fool notion his cock was entertaining.
Bloody disaster, this. Nothing but trouble ahead.
