Free Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) by Leighann Dobbs, Harmony Williams

candelabra from a pedestal. The intricately-wrought, silver-coated metal imprinted into her palm through her silk glove. Taking a deep breath, she arrowed along the hall toward that heavy wooden door. The flames spluttered with her quick steps. She shielded them with her free hand as best she could.
    When she reached the tall, forbidding door, she hauled it open only far enough to slip inside. It thunked shut. She flinched as the sound echoed and amplified along the vaulted ceiling of the room.
    No light drifted through the windows this time. They yawned far above her, gigantic swathes of shadow perched high on the walls. The candelabra shed light in a yellowish ring, reflecting off the dulled metal of the suit of armor. The visor on the helmet glinted as though someone was watching her. The hooded gazes of Tenwick dukes long dead crawled across her skin.
    “There are no such things as ghosts.”
    Could she be sure of that? She had to approach those disapproving faces in order to find the well-concealed door between them. Tentatively, she stepped forward, giving the other artifacts in the room a wide berth. She didn’t want the bust of some ancestor sniffing her bosom again—or worse, shattering on the floor.
    The heels of her evening slippers clicked on the floor as she stepped forward. The sound resonated, throwing itself back at her as if someone followed her. When she glanced behind, she saw no one.
    Find the door and get out of here . Unease tickled the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, peering at the spaces between the overlarge paintings and trying to avoid the way the candlelight caught the flecks of paint in their expressions.
    The door. Finally. It wasn’t shut by a latch or lock, but rather with a large iron ring. The ring was hard and a bit rough, as though she felt the beginnings of rust beneath her gloves. When she tugged gently on the ring, the door stuck fast. Transferring the candelabra to her less dominant hand, she dug in her heels and yanked on the door. It pulled free of the frame with a groan that echoed in the darkness. Her pulse pounded as she slipped inside.
    When she shut the door, the resulting gust of air kicked up a swirl of dust. It coated Freddie’s throat. She coughed, making a face at the bitter taste.
    The candlelight slid over drab stone covered in dust and cobwebs. Clearly, the servants didn’t clean this portion of the abbey. A smudged trail down the center of the passageway indicated that it got some use, likely by Lucy. The air smelled musty and stale.
    As Freddie continued down the passage, it narrowed. The walls seemed to close in on her, now barely wider than her shoulders. The ceiling passed no more than a foot over her head. Breathing in pants through her mouth, she followed the passage as it changed direction. The stone on either side of her muffled all sound, even that of her breathing. Her heartbeat sounded overly loud in her ears.
    At last, the passage led directly to another wooden door. Like the first, this had no handle on the inside. She braced her palm against the wood and pushed. The door didn’t stick as badly on this end, but there was something hampering its ability to open. When she slid through the gap, holding the candelabra away from her body, still in the passage, her questing fingers met heavy, embroidered cloth. A tapestry? She wrestled it over her head and pulled the candelabra through, hoping it wouldn’t catch flame.
    Instead, she managed to bang her wrist on the edge of the door. The candelabra fell from her fingers and landed on the floor with a clang. The light guttered out. Freddie swore beneath her breath. She knelt, scooping up the metal fixture and the warm wax candles that had fallen free of their holdings. When she entered the hall, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Light mirrored along the hall. She wouldn’t need the candles. She thrust them into a corner and shut the door.
    The tapestry was a deep, royal blue and silver, the