Page 10 of Mistletoe (Monsters of the Nexus #3)

Chapter Nine

Emma

Sweetwater Point

Emma was released in the morning, just as she predicted, no dramatic prison breaks necessary. The lawyer her father hired bandied about several impressive terms in the sheriff’s office that morning, mostly unlawful detention and inhumane conditions .

“Did they feed you?” Agatha fussed with the collar of Emma’s coat. When neither her husband nor her daughter returned home, she rode into town the next day, bringing hell with her. A gentle, smothering hell. Agatha delivering a batch of shortbread cookies to the sheriff’s office with a smile and a casual mention that she planned to pay her respects to the sheriff’s mother and catch up on gossip likely had as much to do with Emma’s release as the fire and brimstone lawyer.

More. No one wanted their mother gossiping with Agatha De Lacey. Somehow, she always had the latest tittle-tattle and had zero compunction about sharing, which would be distressing if one had a secret to hide.

What don’t you want others to know, Nina?

“Yes, Ma, they fed me,” Emma answered.

Agatha made a doubtful noise. “You look thin, and what happened to your scarf?”

She knew what had happened: an orc took it. “How about I run to the bakery and pick up sausage rolls for the trip home? The sheriff fed me dinner but not breakfast.”

“No breakfast,” Agatha said in a tone that implied that information was the most scandalous thing she ever heard. “I wonder if Mrs. Navarre knows how her daughter runs her office.”

Emma made plans to meet her parents at the livery. For the moment, she enjoyed the sunshine and the non-damp nature of the air. She couldn’t wait to get home, hug her cat, and take a bath. After she tended the goats and did the chores. Her mother fed the animals but the stalls would need mucking out and other assorted grubby tasks. Farm work was never-ending and quite filthy.

Yes, a good long soak in the evening by the hearth in the kitchen was exactly what she wanted.

Shouts and pounding horse hooves came at her from behind, the noise signaling a need to get off the street. A mob of very riled soldiers headed her way, riding hell-bent for leather.

She barely moved out of the way as they raced past, tossing up mud and other unmentionables.

A second cluster followed at a more leisurely pace. At the center was a tall man with silver hair and enough metal on his jacket to convey that he was important and in charge. Clearly an officer. A major, possibly even a general.

“Search every building if you have to. I will be extremely displeased if I lose another creature today,” the officer said, dispatching his minions.

Emma didn’t know who they were hunting, but she had a good idea.

Soldiers pounded on doors, not being polite as they demanded entrance. They’d search house to house until there were no places left to hide. On the street, she heard the beat of hooves. The previous party of soldiers hadn’t found what they sought and were making another sweep of the town’s main street.

“Hey,” a voice whispered from the alley.

Emma turned, displaying zero aptitude for subterfuge. It was mortifying, really.

A deputy motioned for her to follow him down the alley.

No, not a deputy, despite wearing the brown deputy coat.

Hal.

She followed, the temperature dropping drastically in the alley as the buildings crowded together and blocked out the sun.

Her red scarf obscured the lower half of his face. White face paint had been smeared over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, caking around his eyes. A hat covered his head. Gloves covered his hands. Altogether, as much of him was covered as possible, technically, but the white face paint was clearly stage makeup. The effect only worked at a distance or in the shadows.

“You were supposed to get out of town,” she whispered.

“I had matters that needed attending to.”

“Is this your handiwork?” She waved to the main street at the end of the alley.

“You said I was trouble.”

“I’d ask you what you did, but you either wouldn’t tell me or if you did, I’d be an accessory, and there are plenty enough hard feelings between me and the sheriff right now.”

Hal smiled. She couldn’t see his mouth, but his eyes did a… thing. She wasn’t a poet, able to wax on elegantly about the rhapsody of his brown eyes. A smiley thing—and it was nice. His eyes were nice. Warm. She liked it.

The slower, purposeful clatter of hooves interrupted her thoughts. The soldiers were no longer racing; they were searching on foot. Someone gave the order to search door to door. Their voices rose over the noise of the town, ordering people to open doors or just pounding on doors where they were too impatient to ask.

Right. Hal was in the midst of a chase, and lurking in the alley would no longer suffice.

“Listen, the train tracks are on an embankment. Use it to get out of town.”

The voices grew louder.

“I have an idea,” she said, stepping closer. She stretched up on her toes and grabbed his hat. “Sorry about this,” she said. Bold—bolder than she had any right to be—Emma removed the hat from his head.

The tips of pointed green ears poked through his messy hair.

“Put your arm around me,” she said.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but maybe not for this situation,” he said, amused, but followed her instructions.

She held the hat at the side of his head, shielding his face.

“I’m sorry for not asking,” she said, using her other hand to grab the scarf and pull him down. She kissed him.

Her first impression was of the tusks. They pressed against her lips too harshly and with no give. They hurt. Her second impression was that his lips were clamped tightly shut, unresponsive against her own.

This was a mistake and as enticing as kissing a stone wall. A well-behaved person did not forcibly kiss others. In public. Without at least discussing the matter before slapping their mouth over the other person’s.

She pulled away, her feet firmly back on the ground. “I shouldn’t have done that?—”

His arm tightened around her waist, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. He held her against him like it was nothing.

This was not nothing.

His mouth was back on hers, this time responding with a devouring hunger. This time, the tusks scraped and pressed, adding just the right pressure to make her open wider, their tongues working against each other. He moaned, teeth nipping at her lips, those tusks, and held her like she was delicate. Precious. Her. Farmer Emma in her muddy boots and heavy coat.

Heat surged through her. Some of it was him—his touch felt as warm as the sun—but it was also that thing from before. The smiley thing that made her fluttery and soft inside, which was ludicrous. Emma had been honed and sharpened by the dual forces of a harsh environment and hard work. Softness didn’t have a place in her world.

She’d make a place for him. With him.

The search party paused at the end of the alley to yell encouragement and moved on.

Hal lowered Emma to her feet.

She clutched his hat, the brim quite mangled, waiting for his response.

He leaned out, brushing his thumb across her cheek. It came away with a streak of white makeup. He grinned, lips twisting around his tusks in what should have been a horrifying expression, but she found charming.

“You are trouble,” she said.

“Good trouble?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m willing to find out.”