Cozy Kringle rummaged through the sack. “He’s telling the truth. Nothing but coal here. Already warm, too.” He shoved the sack toward his brother. “Take it inside.”
“Wait!” Nico flung out the arm holding the smaller bag. “There’s more. This one has toys inside it. I made them myself. I would like the children to have them, too.”
The guards exchanged another look.
“Duke’s more likely to find out about that,” said Military Kringle
“Come, brother,” Cozy Kringle countered, “don’t you wish we would have had something like this? In the workhouse? Imagine the little faces when they wake up.”
“Imagine the duke’s face when he finds out.”
“So? Whatever happens, we’ll bear it. We don’t need him. You know why we took this job.”
Military Kringle opened the sack, looked inside, and pulled out a silver fox. He held it up to the moonlight. “Cute,” he grunted.
“Would you like it?” Nico asked. “It’s yours if so.”
Military Kringle looked up, startled. “You’re sure? It’s not for a child?”
Nico had been right to bet on charm over force. The Kringles’ resolve was crumbling. “I made something for all the Kringles, too.”
The man’s hand fisted around the small statue. And when he opened it up again, it was no longer the shape of a fox but the shape of a big strong mountain of a man. Military Kringle was silent a long moment, then he swiped his knuckles beneath his eye as if cleaning up a tear. “Thank you.” He slipped the token into his pocket.
“I made certain figures for each child. You won’t know which ones belong to whom.” Nico was pushing his luck. He should move to the edge of the forest now and wait to ensure everything had gone right and let the guards handle the gifts. But he couldn’t seem to stop his stupid mouth. “Let me come along, and I’ll help you disperse them.”
Military Kringle hesitated, his head cocked. “I shouldn’t. Technically, if we keep you out of the house, we’re doing our job.”
“I understand. I do. But?—”
Military Kringle crumbled. “Oh, come on, then. Just stop blabbing.”
Nico grinned and joined them.
And was slammed to the ground between one step and the next. The breath rushed out of him as the hard ground rose up the meet him. Hell. One of the other Kringles must have seen him, attacked. He struggled to pull air back into his lungs with the body sprawled atop him. But… it couldn’t be one of the guards. Too light for a mountain-sized Kringle. And the body smelled like winter and woman. Andskirtstangled with his legs. And soft, gloved palms—small and delicate—cupped his face.
Jane.
“Nico,” she breathed. “Nico, I’m so sorry.” Jane sat atop him, refusing to let him up. She yelled at the Kringles, righteous and bold. “I will not let you hurt him!”
Nico sucked in breath. Airfinally. And the best thing to do with it—a chuckle. For Jane’s courage and for her beauty. A laugh because he was entirely gone for her, wrapped up in everything she was and could be. A laugh because he knew what he would do next, and how she would respond.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, rolled until he pinned her beneath him, and then, still laughing, he covered her puzzled, pouty lips with his own.
If she must be shot,kissing Nico was a terribly good way to go. He kissed and smiled at the same time. He kissed as if the snow were not seeping through her clothes and tangling her hair (a prickling cold she could ignore for the pleasure of his lips hot against her own). He kissed as if they were not being watched.He kissed as if her lips were the only important matter in the entire world.
He kissed so thoroughly she almost did not want to stop him.
She had no choice.
She broke the kiss with a gasp, pushing at his chest. “Nico! This is not the time!”
“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.
