Page 70 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

“I was so damn worried.” He kissed her again, luxuriating in the corners of her mouth. Her frown. “But here you are, safe and sound. Clever minx.”

“Nico!” She pushed again, this time without breaking from the kiss. No use in that. He’d simply dive back in again. “There are men with guns trying to kill you!” Each word muffled by his mobile lips.

“What’s that ya said?” the guard asked from above, somewhere beyond the hazy heat of their kisses. “Kill? Who’s trying to kill?” The sound of a gun being shifted, of boots crinkling over dead leaves.

That spiked her blood. She struggled harder.

But then the same voice said, “Don’t worry, Sir Nicholas, I’ll find ’em. Keep saying good evening to your lady.”

And then Nico was laughing again, rolling off her, gathering her up in his arms and plucking leaves from her hair. “I think she means you, Mr. Kringle. You are trying to kill me.”

“Me?” The guard grunted then mumbled, “Not about to kill Sir Nicholas. He brought the coal.”

“You’re not?” Jane asked, standing. The guard’s gun hung loose at his side now, barrel pointed toward the ground. “I’m confused.”

“Do not return in the middle of very important hijinks and expect to not be confused.” Nico stood and kissed her forehead. “The estimable Kringle men have decided to help us. What’s that?” He nodded at the bag she had crossed over her body.

“I’ve been with Mrs. Tottle. Brewing potions. I went to see you first, but you were not at Bowen Hall. I knew, no matter where you were, you’d come here tonight, and I thought the potions might be helpful. In one way or another.”

“What do you have?”

“A little of everything. Memory, sleeping, love. To name a few.”

Nico whistled. “You are prepared. Let’s hope we don’t have to use them, though.”

One of the Kringles slapped Nico on the back. “There’s not much time until the position shift. Let’s go.” He made for the house.

Nico put his nose to the donkey’s. “Now, Remmy. Stay here. No sounds. And keep Felix in line.” He crouched to speak to the fox. “No naughtiness.”

Felix sniffed and butted Nico’s chin with his snout. The donkey snorted and whipped its tail.

“An agreement or an objection?” Jane asked.

“Either. Both? We’ll find out. Come on, then, let’s be quick.”

They hurried toward the back door and slipped into the dormitory.

Two of the Kringles were inside, guarding the inner and outer exits.

The fire blazed in the stove and already waves of delicious heat rolled across the room.

One Mr. Kringle, wearing a lovely blue knit cap moved swiftly, quietly, toward then, and he handed something to Nico.

Nico nodded in thanks and took what appeared to be a sack. Ah, yes. She remembered this. He left her, tiptoeing toward the rows of bed. Oh, quickly. She needed him to move quickly. She’d not seen her brother since he’d locked her away, and she did not trust him to be sleeping now.

Sleeping.

She rushed across the room to one of the Kringles keeping watch. She tugged on his arm to get his attention and pulled a bottle from her bag.

“What’s that?” he whispered.

“A sleeping draught. I’d like you to administer it to my brother.”

“What if he’s already sleeping?”

“Then… don’t? Please. Go to his room and pretend something is amiss. When he’s not looking, empty the bottle into his glass.” Victor always took a brandy before bed. It was still a rubbish plan, reliant upon too many things beyond her control.

“What’ll you give me if I do?” The Kringle crossed his arms over his chest.

“My gratitude?”

“Druggin’ a duke’s worth more than that, Miss Dean. More than you can afford, prolly.”

Yes, probably. “Then tell me where he is. I’ll do it.”

“Gah! Don’t tell a fellow that. I want ta tell the truth when the judge asks me about it.”

“There will be no judge.” She was getting rather nervous.

Her feet would not be still. But Nico was almost done.

They could leave any minute. But what would they do, then?

Wouldn’t her brother be after her? At least until she was firmly wedded and bedded.

And what would he do to Nico? She might acquire a husband only to find him thrown in jail. “Oh, come along, Nico,” she hissed.

Unable to keep still, she circled the room as Nico worked, a silent, gentle shadow.

She ached. What she felt for him like the heat wafting from the stove—overwhelming, impossible to contain.

She’d never felt love like this, had likely never been loved with such wildness either.

Her heart had become an overgrown garden, the emotions tangled and growing, climbing, reaching toward the sun.

And ready to bloom. Already blooming. A wintertime spring of the soul.

He stood from kneeling by the final bed and found her across the room, across the darkness. The flash of white teeth as he meandered toward her made her belly flip. She had to tilt her head up when he reached her. Touching the toys must have ignited the magic in his veins. His eyes blazed silver.

She grasped his hand. “We must leave.”

He nodded, and together they took one last look at the sleeping children. Already she missed them. Who would find them homes now?

“I hate to leave them,” Nico whispered.

She squeezed his hand. “Me too.” Her words swallowed by the night.

He kissed the back of her hand, and they left through the door that led into the large entry hall. And ran right into a line of four huge men.

Nico yelped. He threw Jane behind him. He stood up to his full, silvered height. He was ready for a fight. “Good evening, gentlemen. Glad you’re here.”

One of the burly guards stepped forward, his face pulled into a lethal scowl.

He cracked the knuckles of both hands. He loomed over them long enough for Jane to know, know to the very tips of her toes, that she would not survive to see morning.

“You have gifts for all of us?” The man’s brow remained furrowed, but a blush, bright enough to be visible in the dark, rushed across his cheeks. “We didn’t get nothin’ fer you.”

Oh merciful heavens. The Kringles weren’t going to kill them.

Nico reached into his sack and pulled out five silver figurines.

The door behind Jane swung open, and the remaining Kringle returned. “Sleepin’ like angels, they are. And it’s warm as a summer’s day in there. And you should see the little toys he’s given ’em.” He sniffed, rubbed his fist into his eye. “Adorable.”

“Speaking of…” Nico reached into the sack he carried. “Here.” He dropped a small, finely shaped figure of silver into each man’s hand. “Now close your palms for five seconds or so then open.”

The men closed their palms, mouthed a count to five, then opened them. Quiet descended. Then a volley of sniffs like pattering rain on the roof.

“Got somethin’ in my eye.”

“Need to get back to my post.”

“I had a pet mouse looked just like this once.”

“Never been given anything so nice.”

“Merry Christmas, my fine fellows.” Nico patted the nearest one on the shoulder, and they all filed out, leaving him and Jane alone in the empty hall. “Well,” he said, taking her hands. “Now what, Miss Dean?”

She didn’t know. And she didn’t have time to think about it. Because behind Nico, her brother stalked toward them, a large and heavy-looking candlestick raised high above his head.