Page 42 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

It felt good to have Fiona in his arms again. Hardwicke’s heart surged with contentment; he felt complete.

He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to beg her to stay with him, to never leave, while also convincing her to hide—to be safe.

“I am acting in my best interest, Fiona,” he said. “Because if something happens to you… I won’t survive it.”

She looked at him with her clear blue eyes filled with hope, fear, and wonder.

She swallowed. “Then ye must understand why I am not going to leave.”

Did she mean her words? Did they convey the same feelings he was trying to express?

He loved her with all his heart. He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever. If she felt the same…

He couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t get distracted.

"For once," he said with a mix of exasperation and fondness, "I would appreciate it if you didn't counter everything I say."

"And I would appreciate it if, for once, ye would stop making foolishly heroic decisions without consulting anyone else!"

The argument felt familiar and strangely comforting, like slipping into a well-worn coat. How many arguments just like this had they had throughout their lives? Hundreds?

None had been this dire, though.

They were about to die yet were bickering like an old married couple.

We are an old married couple.

The thought brought a smile to his face.

Hardwicke knew his stubborn wife wasn’t going to listen to him right now. If he had learned anything in their thirty years of marriage, it was that when she set her mind to something, it wasn’t going to change—especially when it came to the well-being of others.

“There’s no time to argue,” he attempted to convince her one last time.

“Aye,” she agreed. “So ye better let me help ye.”

He let out a steadying breath. “Fine.”

She smiled, a triumphant smile, then pressed her knuckles to her lips.

Did they tingle the way his did? Did she need a moment to process how exhilarating their kiss felt?

“W-what is yer plan?” she finally asked.

He swallowed, returning his mind to the matter at hand. “Simply divide and conquer. By my count, there were twelve bandits in the house. I have killed one—the one who took Margaret.”

“The one you threw onto the balcony?” Her face was a mix of horror and a bit of pride.

He huffed a laugh. “Yes.”

“I knew only ye could've made that quip about a cooked goose.”

He grinned. “I hoped you would.”

“Although it was a rather gruesome sight.”

“Apologies. I had to intimidate the bandits.”

“I think it worked.”

“It did. When they spread out to look for me, I managed to snag two more and tied them up in different closets. So that’s basically what we need to do: thin the herd a little so we can take charge of the house. Barricade ourselves against them or trap them somewhere until Argyll arrives with help.”

“Argyll?” She raised a brow.

“Yes, a chaise driver I told you about. I brought Margaret to him after I saved her and they are both on the way to find us some help.”

“Oh…” Fiona’s mind worked, a frown marring her beautiful face. She side-stepped the chaise issue, as usual, perfectly prioritizing the issues at hand. “If ye want to thin the herd, then I have an idea.”

Hardwicke leaned closer to her. “I am listening.”

“I will act as a distraction,” she said confidently. “I will lead one bandit away from his mates, and ye will be there to catch him off guard.”

As if he’d agree to that! He started shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. “No, no, no. I am not using you as bait!”

“Yer right, yer not. I will be playing bait.”

“Fiona!” he said sternly.

“Edward!” she parroted his tone.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I won’t risk you.”

“Ye have no choice.”

He thought about it for a moment. On the one hand, it was a dangerous ploy. He didn’t want to risk his wife even for a moment. On the other hand, she was incredibly stubborn, and they didn’t have all night to argue. Finally gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. How are you planning to do that?”

She tapped her finger to her lips. “Where do these tunnels lead?”

“Behind the kitchen, the study, the music room, and several bedchambers. I don’t know all the pathways, though.”

She nodded. “So we can go through the entire house. I think it’s best to create a distraction from the top of the stairs. Make them ascend the steps. This way, we would be able to see them approach and fight on our terms.”

Hardwicke beamed with pride. Gaining high ground would give them perfect tactical advantage. She thought like an army general. My clever little wife.

He took her hand and led her back up the stairs.

"How did ye learn about these passages, anyway?" she asked, studying the walls of the corridor.

His grip tightened around her fingers. He wished he didn’t have to tell her.

"Edward?” she prompted. “How do ye know about the passage?"

He paused halfway up the steps, turning to face her in the cramped space. "I used to... Paula—I mean, Lady Thornbury showed me."

"Paula?" Fiona sounded appalled by his casual use of the hostess’s Christian name. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but he rather enjoyed her displays of jealousy.

"Yes, we used to..." He cleared his throat. "We had a brief liaison—"

Fiona snatched her hand away from his, her nostrils flaring. Yes, she was definitely jealous.

"When?" The word emerged as barely more than a croak.

Hardwicke stepped closer, crowding her in the already cramped corridor, a smile touching his lips. Her eyes filled with tears, and his smile immediately dimmed. He wished he could take back his careless words. A part of him wanted to make her jealous, but he never meant to hurt her.

"Three decades ago, Fiona,” he clarified. “Before we married. The summer before we married, actually."

She let out a shaky breath, relief flooding her features. "I thought—"

"I know what you thought." He raised his hand with the intention of touching her face, but she seemed so guarded that he curled his fingers and let it fall back to his side. "I would never have betrayed your trust, Fiona. Not then, not now, not ever."

She nodded, a tremulous smile touching her lips. "I've never doubted that," she whispered.

His smile softened. "Is that why you snatched your hand away just now?"

Blush flooded her cheeks. "Well, ye should have said straightaway that it was decades ago."

"I wanted to see if you cared,” he admitted.

She opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it and closed it. Then she frowned. "A summer before our wedding... the Thornburys were already married then."

"Yes." He nodded, taking her hand again and resuming their careful progress through the passage. His thumb brushed absently across her knuckles, an action meant to soothe her. Instead, it was soothing him.

"So, ye had a liaison with another man's wife,” she accused.

He shrugged, though embarrassment seeped into his voice. "I was young and unprincipled. And I don't think I was the only one among her lovers at the time. So I didn’t care."

Her shoulders moved with a faint shrug. "They hadn't been married long at the time. Perhaps ye were her first indiscretion. Perhaps that's the real reason why Lord Thornbury was so determined to pursue me as a mistress.”

It was his time to halt. He stopped so suddenly that she bumped into him. He pivoted to face her. “He offered that?”

She nodded. “Aye. A few times, actually.”

“And did you agree?”

She licked her lips, studying his face. He tried to keep his expression carefully neutral, though he was certain all his emotions were written on his face. “No,” she said finally. “I have not taken anyone to my bed.”

A breath of relief left his lungs, and he nodded. “Good.”

“But he’s been very determined,” Fiona added. “Wanting revenge against ye for cuckolding him would explain that determination.”

Hardwicke's mouth quirked upward. "It's possible. But it's more likely he simply finds you irresistible. Who wouldn't?"

Her eyes widened, then a little frown marred her face. "Ye didn't."

He reared back in astonishment. Is that what she thinks? "What are you talking about?"

She swallowed, the sound audible in the narrow passageway. "Ye found me quite easy to resist, Edward."

"What makes you say that?" His voice was hoarse.

"Well," she said quietly, "yer actions."

"My actions?” he asked incredulously. “Is that why I came to your bed every night from the night of our wedding? Because I found you so easy to resist?"

Her face was marred with confusion. "That lasted only a few months, until I became with child—"

"Yes, and you had a difficult pregnancy. I didn't want to risk aggravating your condition. The doctor said—"

"And after I gave birth, ye ran off to join the army," she countered.

"I didn't run off." The implication stung.

"Being a soldier was always my dream, Fiona.

You knew that when you married me. Once we had an heir and you were recovered, I finally felt free to pursue the career I'd always wanted.

It had nothing to do with you—nothing to do with wanting to escape.

" He paused, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper.

"I wrote to you as often as I could. I thought of you every night, dreamed of you, counted the days until I could return to your arms."

"But ye wanted to have liaisons with others!”

He stared at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. "If I wanted that, why would I have suggested our mutual promise of fidelity? Why would I have insisted we both forswear all other companionship?"

"Because ye didn't trust me," she whispered.

Every nerve in his body went still. "I was an idiot. Ours wasn’t a love match. I was not going to betray our vows, and I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

“Ye could have told me that," she countered.

He swallowed, nodding. She was right. He could have. Should have. But he was too young, too proud to admit to any feelings he had toward a woman who was supposed to be his wife for convenience only. Not for love. “As I said… I was an idiot.”

There was a pause. Her brows were drawn low above her eyes. Finally she took a step back, creating distance between them. “Edward, we are getting distracted. We need to… let’s discuss this later.”

He licked his lips and nodded. She obviously didn’t believe his words. There was an old hurt there, something he didn’t know how to fix.

But he would fix it.

First, he would save her.

Then he would prove his love to her.