Page 86 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

That evening, the party was in full swing.

Catriona had selected the hall as the location of their revelries because it was visible without being too visible.

The row of tall windows facing the front of the castle gave the thieves the opportunity to observe that there was activity within.

But the fact that they were stained glass windows made it difficult to ascertain precisely what that activity was.

She’d lit dozens of candles, both in the hall and in the rooms surrounding it.

Will was providing the music. As he had said, he wasn’t the best fiddle player Catriona had ever heard.

Not that she was in a position to judge, according to her sister.

Meaghan claimed that Catriona had no ear for music.

The words ‘tone deaf’ might have been bandied about.

But as far as Catriona was concerned, Will was doing just fine.

They were putting on a pantomime of a small gathering of servants.

It wasn’t as if you would find an excellent musician in every such group.

Will’s performance was realistic, and wasn’t that the most important thing?

And just look at him now, gamely bouncing from foot to foot while playing!

It was so refreshing to have someone go along with her plans for once, instead of arguing.

Well… strictly speaking, Will had argued.

But the thing he had argued was that he wasn’t skilled enough to carry off what she had in mind, not that she was an eejit and her plan was daft. It made for a refreshing change!

It was time for another turn about the room.

The first thing she’d done that morning after getting Will settled with his violin was to stuff a dress with rags.

She’d hastily stitched a “head” out of sackcloth and fastened it to the neck of a gown, drawing on a face and adding one of her mother’s turbans in lieu of hair.

She’d run a broomstick up the middle of the contraption to hold everything together.

Holding the rag doll aloft as if it were her partner, she skipped down the length of the hall, stomping her feet in hopes of sounding like a crowd of dancers.

That was another thing her family would’ve castigated her for—the fact that she was wearing a pair of Callum’s trousers.

She had figured it would be easier to make a convincing rag doll of a woman than a man, as a woman’s legs were hidden in a swirl of skirts.

Catriona would therefore play the part of the gentleman.

When she had explained all this to Will, he merely glanced at her stuffed partner, said, “That makes sense,” and resumed practicing the violin.

Once she reached the end of the room, out of sight of the stained-glass windows, Catriona turned back to face the room.

She extended her arms toward Morrigan, who had appeared just in time to assist with their little ruse.

Catriona had draped one of her sister’s fine linen shifts around the raven’s back.

Morrigan, being the dearest creature, had submitted to this strange treatment without a squawk of complaint and had been flying about the room ever since, making up an additional “dancer.”

Holding her arms out, Catriona beckoned for Morrigan to come. The bird launched herself from her perch and glided across the room, settling on Catriona’s shoulder.

Just then, Will finished his rendition of “Drops of Brandy” with a lively flourish. Catriona burst into cheers and applause. Will set his bow down quickly so he could join in. Caught up in the spirit, Morrigan flapped her wings and cried, “Yo ho ho!”

Catriona hastened to the punchbowl and filled a glass, making a point of clattering the ladle against the side of the bowl. She brought it to Will, and he drank thirstily.

“Thank you,” he said once he had drained the glass. He glanced toward the windows. “Do you think they’ve seen our little performance?”

“’Tis difficult to say. Let’s keep it up for another hour or two and hope for the best.”

Will nodded, then mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “Right. Time for another carol.” Taking up his bow, he struck the opening notes of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”

Nodding her thanks, Catriona left to make a circuit of the room.

She alternated between singing along and talking, both to herself and to Morrigan, in an attempt to mimic the sounds of a merry gathering.

She made a point to periodically walk about, sometimes alone, and sometimes carrying the rag doll beside her.

On her second trip to the punch bowl, she spotted something.

There was a full moon tonight, and a rare, cloudless sky, lending a bit of visibility to the darkness outside. In the corner of the window, Catriona saw two dark, round shadows. They almost looked like a pair of heads.

Just when she had convinced herself it was a trick of the light, one of the shadows leaned close to the other, as if whispering something in his ear.

Catriona was so distracted that she almost forgot to applaud when Will finished his song.

She hurried across the room. “I think I see them,” she hissed. “There, in the window.”

Will’s eyes widened. “The thieves?”

“It looked like two men. Who else could it be?”

He nodded. “What should we do?”

She considered. “Let’s have another reel. Really put on a show for them.”

Nodding, he struck the opening notes of “Maxwell’s Rant.”

Taking up her rag doll partner, Catriona skipped down the length of the room.

She jigged as she had never jigged before.

And to be sure, had her family been able to see her, her sister would have told her that her steps were atrocious, and that pained look would’ve come into her mother’s eyes, the one that reminded her what a disappointment she was.

But when she caught Will’s eye as he made his own promenade across the hall, he gave her an encouraging smile. She could tell his steps were as bad as hers, and she doubted he was any good at dancing even when he wasn’t playing the violin.

But he was doing it because she had asked him to. And there was something almost poetic about the fact that they were both terrible dancers, but here they were, dancing together, regardless.

She shook her head to clear it. Was it possible that Will had poured something in the punch? That could be the only explanation for her turning into a sentimental numpty.

When the reel concluded, Catriona noticed that the shadows in the window had disappeared.

Carrying on a loud conversation with herself, she filled two glasses of punch and handed one to Will.

“It appears they’ve moved on. Play another carol.

I’m going to sneak up to the battlements and see what I can see. ”

Nodding, he launched into “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks at Night,” striking a tone so discordant on the sixth note that even Catriona noticed.

She hurried up the stairs, then quietly opened the door leading outside. She was met with a blast of frigid air and wished she had thought to grab her cloak, but there was nothing for it now.

Ducking behind the crenellated wall, she crept along until she was standing just above the hall. She was pleased by both the light glowing from the stained-glass windows and the sound of Will’s violin music wafting into the night.

Holding her breath, she raised her head enough to peer over the wall.

Even in the dim moonlight, it was easy to pick out the black-clad figures of the two thieves against the blanket of white snow that covered the surrounding moors.

She couldn’t hear their conversation over the sound of Will’s playing, but it looked as if they were arguing.

The taller man had his arms crossed over his chest, and the shorter one was leaning forward, gesticulating with both hands.

She waited, shivering behind the stone wall, for Will to finish the song. Once it concluded, the sounds of the thieves’ voices drifted up to her hiding spot.

“—said there were fourteen servants watching the castle. I’m not going in there and getting the stuffing beaten out of me by a half-dozen burly Scottish footmen!”

The nasal voice of the shorter man answered, “There aren’t a half-dozen footmen in there! That girl was lying through her teeth.”

The taller man gestured to the glowing windows of the hall. “Then how do you explain that, Humphrey?”

“I don’t know!” Humphrey’s voice dripped with exasperation. “It’s not as if we can see much. Doesn’t it seem suspicious that they only have the one violin?”

“What do you expect—for their servants to hire a full orchestra? Here?” He gestured wildly to the surrounding snow. “In the arse-end of nowhere?”

“I know that I didn’t come all the way to the arse-end of nowhere to walk away empty-handed!” Humphrey shot back. He brandished something thin and black—a crowbar, Catriona suspected—in his companion’s face. “I’m getting that gold. And you’re going to help me!”

“Oh, no, I’m not!” The tall man wheeled away and strode off into the darkness.

“Mort!” his companion shouted. “Get back here!”

Mort shouted something indecipherable over his shoulder. Humphrey stomped after him.

Catriona drew back from the wall. She was trembling, and not just from the cold.

They appeared to have warded off the threat for tonight. But the shorter thief—Humphrey—had not been fooled by their little ruse.

They weren’t out of the woods, not even close.

As Catriona slipped back inside and went to tell Will what she had learned, she wondered what on earth she was going to do next.