Shana Galen - [A Lord & Lady Spy Novella] by The Spy Wore Blue

for the heat of a pistol ball slicing his flesh, or the crash of a coil or a pulley landing on top of him.
    Nothing happened.
    And then Helena walked out of the darkness backstage. Blue swore. “What the devil are you doing here?”
    “Listening to your monologue. Marlowe?” she asked, cocking her head. “Or was it Ben Jonson?”
    Blue didn’t smile. “Go home. You should be far away from here already.”
    “And leave you in harm’s way? That wouldn’t be very noble of me.”
    “This isn’t about nobility, Helena.”
    She crossed her arms. “Isn’t it? Then why are you still here, making yourself a target for a madman?”
    Blue didn’t speak. He watched as she sauntered to the pianoforte, sat, and played a few bars of a child’s song. She was a mediocre player at best. She’d never taken the time to become accomplished, but she could play well enough to pick out the notes of her sheet music if she needed to. Blue stomped over to her. “Go home.”
    She played another few notes, her fingers clumsy on the keys, and he pushed her off the stool in annoyance. He sat and played a few bars of the aria she’d been singing when the counterweight had fallen.
    “I will go home,” she said. “But I want you to come with me.”
    “I intend to search the theater.”
    “You won’t find him.”
    “Then I’ll find where he’s been hiding. He must have some secret place I keep missing. How else could he come and go unnoticed?”
    “Then I’ll search with you,” she said. “Perhaps if we both look, one of us will see something the other has missed.”
    They searched for hours, until both were tired, hungry, and covered with dust and cobwebs. It was nigh midnight when Blue declared the theater empty save the two of them, and Helena ran down the street to fetch what sustenance she could from a tavern with its doors still open.
    When she returned, they ate hard bread and cheese and drank watered wine on the floor of the stage. Then she lay down on her mantle, while he rose to play the piano. The simple act of running his fingers along the keys soothed him, relaxed him. He needed the release tonight. His frustration with not finding Reaper was at a peak. He looked over at Helena, her legs tucked under her skirts as she stared up at the open space above the stage. She should be home, in her soft bed, but instead she was here with him. She had always been the kind of woman who stood by those she loved. Her sister had delivered a child out of wedlock, and Helena had been the only one in her family not to disown the girl. She’d given her food, helped her care for the babe, and defended her sister’s honor to no end. Why hadn’t he remembered that when he’d found her in Alexi’s arms? Why had he assumed the worst, when he’d always known she was the most loyal woman of his acquaintance?
    He was the one with divided loyalties.
    She caught his eye and levered onto her elbows, her hair spilling out behind her, her breasts jutting forward. He couldn’t help being drawn to her when she looked like that. It would be so easy to kneel down beside her, take her in his arms, and make love to her here. They were alone. Of that, he was certain.
    But before he could move, she rose and moved toward the pianoforte. She leaned on the side, listening to him play, then circled behind him, her hands roving over his shoulders and down his arms. His fingers did not falter. He played flawlessly, even as he grew hard with wanting her. She leaned down, sliding her arms down his, so he had to lift her arms to continue to play. The softness of her breasts pushed against his back, and then her mouth was on his ear. His skin tingled as she kissed a path down to his neck. Somehow he continued to play as her lips and her breath aroused him beyond what he thought he could tolerate without ravishing her.
    Her mouth slid to the back of his neck, her soft lips tracing the sensitive skin there even as her hands slid up to his shoulders and down his