Page 90 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

They scrambled down the stairs. On the landing above the entrance hall, Will kissed Catriona hard. “Be careful,” he hissed before leaving to take up his position.

Catriona hurried down the last of the stairs, then skidded to a stop before the doors. Their best bet was still to demonstrate that the castle was occupied, in hopes that the thieves might go away. “What is the meaning of this?” she shouted.

Laughter greeted her from the other side of the thick, wooden doors. “Would you listen to that, Mort? I believe it’s the extremely charming young lady we met the other day.”

“I remember her well,” Mort replied, sounding amused.

Catriona’s heart sank. Mort had been the skittish one, the one who was convinced that the castle was crawling with servants.

He didn’t sound the least bit skittish tonight.

“Do you know who paid us a visit this morning?” the first man, Humphrey, called. “It was the most fascinating creature—a talking raven!”

“A raven who, specifically, talks like a pirate!” Mort added gleefully. “‘Dead men tell no tales,’ my arse.”

“It was a clever trick,” Humphrey acknowledged. “But the jig is up. We know you’re all alone in there.”

“So, I suggest you stand aside,” Mort called. “Because I intend to help myself to all of that lovely silver and—aagh!” He broke off with a scream of pain.

“Is that boiling oil?” Humphrey shouted.

Catriona grinned. That would be Will, right on time. “Well, of course. This is a castle. What were ye expecting?”

“Just wait until I get my hands on you, you stupid bitch!” Humphrey screamed. In a lower voice, he said, “You go around the back.”

“But Humphrey,” Mort whined, “there’s gotta be someone else who—”

“She’s all alone!” Humphrey shrieked. “It’s that bloody raven, or some other trick! We’re going to get that gold, and then we’re going to make her pay!”

Catriona didn’t much like the sound of that. It was a stark reminder that these were not good men and that they would hurt her if they could.

The treasure, she reminded herself. Those artifacts were priceless. These men wanted to melt a thousand years of Skye’s history down into bullion.

She would not allow it!

She hurried to the top of the landing so she would be in position for their next move.

Having exhausted their supply of boiling oil, Will crept around to the back of the castle, keeping an eye on the thief called Mort from above.

It had made him feel ill, hearing the way they’d spoken about Catriona.

He liked to think that he would step in and defend any woman, but knowing that Catriona was Nabonidus?

She was precious to him, even more precious than the treasures she had discovered out on the moors, and if they tried to hurt her, he would…

He would what? Drop his broadsword on their toe? Smother them beneath the towering stack of papers piled upon his desk? Bore them to death by reciting Pompeius Trogus’s Philippic Histories?

He drew in a breath. They said the pen was mightier than the sword. He would have to hope it was true, and that their preparations from earlier in the day would prove effective, because he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Catriona.

He peered down at Mort in the moonlight. He had almost reached the back door.

This meant that he was about to encounter the first of their booby traps.

There were only two stone steps leading up to the back door.

But Will had spent a quarter of an hour that afternoon coating them in a nice, thick layer of beef suet.

Mort charged up the steps, which was all the better, because as soon as his foot hit the flagstones, it slipped out from under him. With a cry, he went topsy-turvy, landing flat on his back.

Sadly, a snowbank was there to break his fall. But he was thwarted for the moment, at least.

Muttering curses, Mort rose and brushed the snow from his coat. He approached the steps more carefully this time, but slipped twice more.

That was when it occurred to him to loop the crook of his crowbar through the back door’s iron loop handle. Leaning heavily on his crowbar, he managed to pull himself up the short flight of steps.

Will was delighted to observe that Mort continued slipping, even though he was standing on the back portico, and Will had only had enough suet to coat the steps themselves. The soles of his shoes must be miserably slick. Then, something happened that Will had not anticipated.

Mort bent forward and removed his shoes.

Now that he was no longer sliding all over the place, Mort made quick work of the back door. Based on his proficiency with a crowbar, he must be an experienced thief, indeed.

But he made another mistake. As the door swung outward, he stepped back…

… right onto the suet-coated steps.

Will couldn’t help but chortle as Mort’s cry of, “Goddamn it!” pierced the crisp night air. Will watched as he ripped off his greasy socks and charged through the door.

“Aieeeeeeee!”

Will grinned. He took it that Mort had just discovered the shards of the broken mirror Catriona had brought down from the attic.

By the sound of things, Mort was having a rough go of it. But the fact remained that he had managed to breach the castle. Hurrying toward the door that would lead him back inside, Will mentally rehearsed the next stage of their plan.

Over in the entrance hall, Catriona watched with a racing heart as the man called Humphrey finally managed to pry open the front door. He paused before crossing the threshold as if he sensed that there was going to be an attack.

That was a good instinct. He should’ve paid attention to that one.

But instead, he apparently decided that the coast was clear and strode inside.

Trying not to grunt with the exertion, Catriona heaved the morning star up over the stair rail and released it. The spiked ball, which was connected to a rope tied around the rafters above, swung in a smooth arc, straight toward its target.

At the last second, Humphrey spotted it. “What the hell?” he shouted, leaping out of the way.

Unfortunately for Humphrey, he hopped right into the path of the second swinging metal ball, which Catriona had released immediately after the first. The morning star was small, only the size of her fist, but still quite heavy, and it caught him square in the side of his head.

Humphrey screamed in pain and clutched his head, and Catriona could see blood dripping from the gash in his dark knit cap.

He wheeled around, hands clenched into fists. “I’m going to get you, you—”

He was forced to abandon his threat mid-sentence by the cloud of down feathers that enveloped him. Catriona had appropriated Duff’s favorite feather pillow that morning and cut the seam specifically for that purpose.

He was still emitting choked coughs when most of the feathers had settled. Catriona was delighted to see that, thanks to Will’s boiling oil, the feathers clung to his face and head.

Even through the layer of feathers, it wasn’t difficult to read the rage radiating from his eyes.

“You’re going to—cough cough—pay for this, you little brat!”

If he wanted to make her pay, he’d have to catch her first, and Catriona had no intention of letting that happen. Wheeling away, she took off down the corridor to trigger her next trap.

Using the back servants’ stairs, Will hurried into his next position at the head of the long corridor that led to the armory.

He didn’t hear any sound from the armory itself, so he took it that the first thief, Humphrey, had not been successful in breaching it.

Hiding himself behind a suit of armor, his weapon clutched to his chest, he settled in to wait.

He heard shouting from the entrance hall.

Humphrey looked mad enough that Catriona’s efforts must have been successful.

Unfortunately, it sounded as if the morning star had not rendered the man unconscious, as they had hoped.

Will felt positively ill as he heard the miscreant shouting threats at Catriona.

It sounded as if she had managed to escape for now, but he did not care for the situation one bit.

After a brief silence, Humphrey gave a surprised shout. “Mort? Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”

“Why are you covered in feathers?” Mort countered.

Humphrey made a sound of frustration. “Never mind that! Let’s get the treasure. Then we can deal with the bitch who did this to us.”

Will heard footsteps against the flagstones. This was it. He crouched down, getting into position.

Just as Humphrey and Mort charged into the corridor, Will unleashed his weapon—a bucket containing Duff’s entire collection of golf balls. It worked like a charm. Giving a startled cry, Humphrey’s foot slipped and he went flying onto his back.

Mort noticed what was happening but was not quick enough to save himself.

He tried to step around the flood of balls advancing toward him, but there was nowhere to put his feet.

Catching his foot on a rolling ball, he flapped his arms, hanging frozen in the air for an instant before crashing down and landing on his side.

Will silently straightened. He didn’t think they’d spotted him behind the suit of armor.

Creeping to the side, he ducked inside a door and hurried to execute the next step in their plan.

Catriona took up her final position outside the armory. Based on the frustrated cursing from the far end of the corridor, Will had done his part.

Now, it was up to her. She would serve as the last line of defense between the artifacts and the thieves.

She heard their approach. “—that stupid little bitch! We’ll see how she likes getting hit in the head with a fucking mace!”

“And having her feet cut to ribbons on broken glass!”

Catriona’s heart thundered. This was it. They were almost here!

She had to do this. Not just for the artifacts, but for herself. If she couldn’t stop them…

She swallowed. She could scarcely bear to imagine what these two horrible men might do to her in the name of revenge.

She hid in the shadows, her weapon clutched to her chest. Suddenly, the thieves stepped into the long beam of light shining through the armory’s door.

Mort never saw her coming. Catriona swung as hard as she could, and Duff’s golf club made a satisfying thunk as it smacked against his forehead. The thief howled in pain.

Catriona grinned. It had been such a good idea, using Duff’s golf clubs for this purpose!

They were so much easier to swing than a broadsword, and almost as effective.

The club she had used was now bent at a forty-five-degree angle, but that was all right.

She wasn’t surprised that the golf club had bent, because it had happened to, oh…

eight or ten of her brother’s clubs while she’d been practicing that morning.

Thank goodness Duff had so many of them!

Tossing the bent club aside, Catriona took up another one, preparing to strike.

Unfortunately, her surprise attack on Mort had given her position away. She swung at the one named Humphrey but only struck a glancing blow off his shoulder. As expected, the club bent at an unnatural angle.

Catriona dropped it and reached for another club, but it was too slow. She could see the fury in Humphrey’s eyes as he charged her, knocking her hand away. In a flash, he was on her, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her to the wall.

“Well, well, well,” Humphrey said, his voice menacing. “Would you look what we have here?”

Mort loomed behind him, his expression murderous. “I’m going to kill her!”

“Or maybe I will,” Humphrey said conversationally. “But first…” He gave Catriona an evil grin. “First, we’re going to have all kinds of fun with—”

There was a loud metallic clank, and the hand squeezing her throat fell away. Humphrey collapsed at her feet in a heap.

Mort gave a shout of protest, but Will emerged from the shadows, his shovel raised high. Swinging it in a wide arc, he caught Mort in the temple with the edge of the blade, and Mort, too, went down like a house of cards.

Will wrapped an arm around her waist. “Are you all right?” he asked in a tremulous voice.

She buried her face in his chest. “I am, thanks to you.”

They couldn’t bring themselves to do anything but hold one another for a moment. Finally, she felt Will’s lips brush the top of her head. “We should see if they’re dead.”

“Ooh!” Catriona gave him a cheeky grin as she stepped back. “I was right all along. Ye’re the Sussex Shovel Slayer, through and through.”

Will sighed as he bent over Humphrey. “We’ve discussed this. I’ve still never been to Sussex. If anything, I should be the Skye Shovel Slayer. Although…” He turned his attention from Humphrey to Mort. “They’re not dead. Merely unconscious.”

“More’s the pity.” Catriona gave him a quick kiss. “The Skye Shovel Slammer it is, then. I’ll get some rope.”