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

Tenwick family crest of a stag rearing on its hind legs. It was massive, easily six feet wide and ten feet tall. No wonder it had been so heavy. When it settled against the wall, it concealed the door perfectly. The light in the corridor threw her shadow across the fabric.
    She turned. Down the narrow corridor, closed wooden doors punctuated the walls. Between them were costly paintings and tables with statuettes or vases of flowers. Freddie counted ten doors. Which belonged to Lord Graylocke?
    She started on the right. The first door, unlocked, swung inward to display a monstrously large room. Bed, settee, wardrobe, and various other pieces of furniture didn’t seem to make a dent in the space. A fire burned in the grate, casting warmth and orange light across the room. Since the room was empty, Freddie slipped inside. Over the bed hung a large, detailed portrait of the current duke. She made a face. What kind of man wanted to sleep beneath his own portrait? This must be the Duke of Tenwick’s room, for she couldn’t imagine Lord Graylocke sleeping in the shadow of his brother’s painted gaze.
    She was about to leave when she recalled that Harker had named the duke a French spy as well. Could he have possession of the code book? Freddie may not get the opportunity to search unhindered again.
    The room was neat, tidy. Everything had its place, which made her search both easier and more difficult. She removed items with precision and replaced them with care not to mix up the order. She started at the stand beside the bed, searching along its bottom for a hidden drawer or latch. Then she searched beneath the bed, ran her hands across the mattress, fluffed every pillow, checked his wardrobe, felt along the other furniture in the room, and approached the two closed doors. One led into a dressing room that was utterly plain. She couldn’t have found a place to hide a book in there. The other door was locked. She searched, but couldn’t find the key. When she turned, her heartbeat quickened as she stared into the benevolent painted gaze of the Duke of Tenwick. He couldn’t have hidden the book behind the painting…could he have?
    She had to check. With trepidation, she approached the bed and climbed atop it. The mattress was soft and gave easily beneath her slippers. Her knees wobbled as she tried to find her balance. She used the wall next to the painting as an anchor. When she found her footing, she hooked her fingers along the bottom of the portrait’s gilt frame and pried it from the wall.
    Her fingers screamed at the effort. Blast, but this thing was heavy! It must have taken four men just to mount it on the wall. She hissed in pain as the frame dug into her flesh. She used her other hand to stick her fist beneath, holding it away from the wall. The throbbing in her fingers dulled. She couldn’t stand like this forever. The pressure soon mounted near to unbearable.
    “He’d have to be mad to hide it behind this dratted thing.” She peeked beneath, trying to discern any kind of shape. Of course, the light from the hearth didn’t illuminate this far, and she saw nothing. She would have to feel her way along the edge, to see if it was mounted behind. The frame cut off her circulation as she felt. The tips of her fingers started to tingle. She moved quicker.
    Nothing. Not a book, not even a mysterious letter from a paramour. She yanked her hands free. The motion sent her off-balance. She bit her lower lip as she careened back onto the bed. Pain jarred her mouth as she impacted and bounced. She breathed hard and pressed her glove to her mouth. No blood, but it stung.
    She hurled herself off the bed and noticed that her impact had mussed the pristine coverlet. Drat! She hurried to right it. No sooner did she finish than she stepped back, noticing that the duke’s portrait was crooked. Her fingers smarted, recalling the weight of the painting. She gritted her teeth. Too damn bad. With luck, he wouldn’t notice. She was