Barbara was an added complication in this scheme, one he never would have agreed to had heactuallythought the counterfeiting ring wouldactuallyhit her home tonight.
Dashed inconvenient.
But the scrape of someone lifting the window from the outside was unmistakable; he’d made that same sound last night, after all.
Crouched behind the desk, the woman he loved frozen in his arms, Kenneth felt his heart beating strong and true. Whatever the reason, Barbarawasbeing targeted tonight…but he was here, and he would stop them.
He would protect her.
And her canopic jars.
“I’m going to move my hand,” he breathed into her ear, and when she immediately nodded, exhaled in relief as he did so. Aye, she might be livid with him, but that didn’t changehis feelings for her. She was brilliant, and beautiful…and his to protect. “Love, I’m going to draw them away.”
He could feel the glare she turned on him, but she was smart enough not to speak after a man—judging from the sound he made when he tumbled through the window, he was a big man—cursed quietly and turned to help a second man through. A third man followed, this one moving slower.
While this was happening, Kenneth closed his eyes and pictured the layout of the room. The chaise was closest, and though it had been used in a wicked way not ten minutes ago, it could serve as cover for him now. He had to draw the men’s attention away from Barbara, and prayed she had the sense to stay down.
While the men were muttering aboutlightand hissing coarse insults at one another, Kenneth grabbed Barbara’s shoulders and turned her to him. He kissed her hard on the lips, tasting her for perhaps the last time, then gently pushed her head down, tucking her under the desk.
Stay there, lass. Stay safe for me.
A part of his heart was staying there with her.
Silently, stealthily, Kenneth crept around the desk and toward the chaise, balancing his weight on his fingertips and the toes. It was more of a scuttle, really, but it was efficient, a movement he’d perfected in Berlin. He settled behind the chaise just as the intruders used their single candle to locate a lamp.
“There we go, boss,” the big man said in satisfaction, rocking back on his feet and glancing around the room. “Now ya can see.”
The second man, a skinny man who moved like a dancer with two pistols at his hip, glided across the room toward the desk. “Here’s another,” he said in a nasally tone, reaching for the lamp mere inches above Barbara’s head.
But Kenneth’s attention was on the man calledboss; a rotund man who carefully carried a bag he cradled to his chest.
The forgeries?
All three men wore nondescript dark clothing, and most frustrating of all, cloth sacks over their faces with holes cut out to see through. It was impossible to make out their features with so many shadows and the way they were all moving around the room, but Kenneth watched them carefully, trying to remember mannerisms.
Anything that could bring them to justice.
Slowly, silently, he eased his knives from their special sheaths in the small of his back.
“Boss, where are the pieces? I ain’t seein’ none that look like the other places?” the slender burglar whined. “Is this them?” he asked, picking up the Spartan antiquity someone had absentmindedly placed on the desk.
The rotund man was peering around the library, clearly looking for something Kenneth knew wasn’t there. But that had to mean… The housebreaker was familiar enough with Barbara’s collection to be aware that things had been moved?
“I don’t see them,” the round man murmured, and Kenneth cursed silently, wishing the bastard would speak loudly enough to be able to identify his voice.
It was the big man who rumbled when he spoke. “This reminds me of that place out in the country. Remember that, Sims? Nutt’s place. We went through the library looking for that old stuff with all the gold, before we torched the place?”
As the slender man chortled and shared another memory, their boss continued to prowl about the room, muttering about canopic jars.
Kenneth’s eyes grew wide. With that one nonchalant reminiscing, the big man had confirmed Barbara’s theory; this counterfeiting ring—or at least its leader—was responsible fornot only the thefts, but the misfortunes which had befallen the antiquities owners. Nutt’s country estate fire had pulled him away from hisLondoncollection for long enough for these men to strike.
Were they also responsible for the rumors about Standish, and Fondlet, Pratt, and Woodcock?
They must be.
Their boss’s movements were becoming increasingly more frantic as he realized the canopic jars he’d clearly come to replace weren’t there. His movements were pulling him around the edge of the room, and Kenneth realized he would soon be in sight of the lamp the man held.
Blowing his cover.
