13

The plan was simple. No tricks or gimmicks. No disguises or wrangling forged invitations. Just a simple breaking and entering.

"We're going to get caught." Esme's voice filtered out of the darkness next to him.

Jasper pulled down a branch from the hedgerow they were currently hiding in to better view Lamb's chateau. The moon-speckled

night and heavy black air, thick with the scent of coming rain, did little to prove the grand structure more than a dark square

slumbering one hundred yards away. Such a night was perfect for thieving, but poor for visibility.

"Have a little more faith in your skills."

"It's not my skills I question, merely the absurdity of this plan. Sneaking into Lamb's home in the middle of the night, rooting

around for the tiara, and slipping out before he has a chance to rouse from bed to raise the alarm. What could possibly go

wrong?"

"I'll have you know this absurd plan has worked for thousands of thieves the world over."

"Yes, ones with less finesse."

He let the branch snap back into place. "Tonight is not about finesse. We tried that. It's time to return to our roots. In

this case simple is better. Two nights ago a chicken was used to swindle the Valkyrie from our grasp. Lamb excels in over-the-top.

He'll never suspect a simple break-in. I doubt he'll suspect retaliation at all."

"The man knows we're desperate to have the tiara. How can he not assume we'd come back for it?"

"Arrogance. Since I've known him, Lamb has always had to be the cleverest, wittiest, most daring, and most cunning of them

all. It doesn't enter his mind that someone can outfox him, especially on his home turf."

"Very well." She sighed dramatically. "I shall summon all my crasser skills from youth."

It was dark, but she stood close enough for him to take an additional observation of her statuesque figure draped in a black

form-fitting top and trousers she'd borrowed from him and cinched tight about her waist with a silk scarf. Thieving was no

excuse to be without a statement piece, she had declared before leaving the apartment. She was the loveliest cat burglar he'd

ever seen.

"Were you a thief when we met?" he asked.

She stilled and he could feel rather than see the full weight of her gaze on him. "Not during the war. People were losing

too much. It didn't seem right to take more from them."

"Why Esme Fox Truitt. I believe you do have a conscience." He hadn't meant to include Truitt, but it slipped out and he had no urge to reclaim it.

He held his breath waiting for a rebuff. She exhaled softly for both of them. "Memory lane another time. Let's get to work,

shall we?"

She dashed across the lawn and flattened herself against the wall next to the servants' entrance. Jasper was beside her in a flash.

"All the servants will have retired by now." Kneeling in front of the keyhole, he pulled out his lock-picking kit. "We should

have a good three hours before they rise, but hopefully we'll be long gone by then."

Three hours was an enormous stretch of time. The longer a thief took, the more likely he was to get caught. Jasper preferred

working solo, but even he had to admit that—given the size of the chateau, Lamb's penchant for bric-a-brac in every room,

and a complete lack of knowledge of where the tiara might be stashed—two thieving heads were better than one. Not that he

had any intention of letting her snag it first and leave him high and dry. If it came to it, he'd force her to take the fall.

He cordoned off his heart and mind from the past two days they had spent together in the apartment planning and strategizing.

Talking of nonsense and sharing meals. He enjoyed seeing the slips behind her defenses to the carefree girl who had caught

his attention on Armistice Day, standing in the crowd as if she'd been waiting for him all along. It did him no good to linger

there among the what-ifs and might-have-beens. Esme was not a part of him and he was not a part of her. The sooner they went

their separate ways, the better.

After sliding a hook into the keyhole, he gently pushed up on the pins one by one.

"Were you a thief when we met?" She was much too near.

His hand slipped and the lockpin slid back into place. Concentrate! He wiggled the hook around and tried again.

"I've always had a talent for acquiring things, but it wasn't until the war that I honed the talent. I put the black market to work for my men. Socks, cigarettes, biscuit tins, whatever they needed. That network was easy enough to maintain after the war, but instead of soldiers in the trench, I went to work for wealthy clients looking for exclusive finds."

"Where you're doing quite well for yourself, Phantom ."

That name had once been held in high regard, but one tiny slip had landed him right under the authorities' thumb as they used

his knowledge and connections to bring down his fellow thieves. If the coppers found out he was working a job without their

consent, he would never see freedom this side of iron bars again. All the more reason to complete this grab and return the

tiara to Duke with the authorities none the wiser. Duke's influence was what had saved him from rotting behind bars. If Jasper

succeeded in capturing the Valkyrie, Duke might finally offer what he had long denied him. A place in the family.

Pushing aside the sentimental notion, he focused on the task at hand. The last pin was proving rather stubborn. Another moment

and it gave way and the lock clicked open. They crept inside the door and quietly closed it, finding themselves in a darkened

passageway illuminated only by the glowing coals of a banked fire in the kitchen. Creeping along, they emerged into the main

part of the house where all remained quiet.

"You take the main floor," he whispered. "I'll search upstairs."

" I'll search upstairs if you don't mind. You may take the main floor."

How easily he forgot he was working with someone as devious as him. They both knew Lamb would not have hidden the tiara on

the main floor. He would keep it close in a place that could not be disturbed by a visitor coming round for tea in the drawing

room.

"Lady's prerogative," he said gallantly.

She glided up the sweeping staircase on catlike feet while Jasper made quick work of the main floor. More of an obligatory

search really, considering his honed intuition beckoned him upstairs. Satisfied that nothing was gained by continuing to look

on that level, he hurried up the stairs to the first floor.

Rain dashed against the large window at the far end of the hall, the plop s woven with the scratching sound of metal on metal. A lock being picked.

Jasper followed the sound to the end of hall where Esme knelt on the red carpet runner in front of the last door.

She didn't break her concentrated rhythm on the lock. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to assist me?"

"It appears you have things well in hand." He leaned against the wall, noting the quality of the watered silk damask stretching

the length of it. "I'm surprised to see you didn't pick up that pair of pearl earrings along the way."

"As much as I adore a sparkling distraction, I knew you'd be up here on my heels. Business first." The lock clicked. Esme

quickly rebundled her tools and tucked the kit into her—or rather his—trouser pocket. "Unless he sleeps hanging upside down

from a beam in the cellar, I'd wager this is our host's bedchamber."

"It pains me to say I believe you're right." He assisted her to stand, ignoring the spark of heat brushing between their hands—a

far larger distraction than a pair of earrings—and slowly turned the knob to crack open the door. Heavy breathing punctuated

with loud snorts drifted out.

Without a word Esme stole into the room like a shadow. Jasper followed silently behind. It was a large, opulent chamber fit for a king with thick rugs, heavy drapes that pooled on the floor, scroll-legged furniture, and gilt-framed portraits of none other than the master of the house in various costumes depicting himself as landed gentry, a sea captain, mountain climber, high judge, and Dionysus.

A massive fireplace stood along one wall with a fire burned down to a few remaining logs that cast off a soft orange glow.

On the other wall was a door leading off to a private sitting room. But it was the massive four-poster bed sitting on the

dais in the center of the room that drew the eye. Carved of white wood, screened off with thick red curtains, and topped with

gold fennels, it could sleep an entire platoon.

Esme raised her eyebrows at him in humorous disbelief. Jasper shrugged. Rich people and their eccentricities. Taking opposite

sides of the room, they prowled about opening drawers and inspecting shelves. Jasper's eyes kept wandering back to the bed,

intuition notching in his chest. He searched the adjoining sitting room, rifling through correspondence on the teak desk,

and lifting a collection of Napoleonic hats. All the while Lamb's voice rattled in his head, "I will keep the Valkyrie well out of hand for there to be no temptation of reclaiming her." He stepped out of the sitting room and stared at the bed where unbroken snores erupted. That devilish little imp.

Esme came to stand beside him. "No," she said on a breath.

"Yes." Motioning for her to go around to the other side of the bed, Jasper tiptoed up the three steps to the top of the platform.

Collecting his nerves, he let out a steady breath and patiently peeled apart the curtains surrounding the bed. Lamb slumbered beneath a pile of silky sheets and cashmere blankets with pillows propped all around him like a fortress. A tasseled nightcap perched on top of his head along with the most beautiful sight to behold. The Valkyrie in all her glory. Atop the sleeping egg's head.

Jasper had a mind to smother him where he lay. All these weeks of searching, of being locked in hotel rooms, sleepless nights,

an irritable Duke, and a conniving soon-to-be ex-wife, and here sat the grand prize being used as a sleeping ornament.

Across the way Esme parted the curtains and quickly took in the scene. Delight flashed over her face, followed by confusion,

then outright irritation. Her gaze traveled the length of the bed and stopped on the basket at the foot where the chicken

dozed on a mattress of peacock feathers. Her eyes snapped back to the tiara, then to Jasper. Who would go for it first?

He had to let her think they were in this together, but he was the one closest to the door. She wasn't stepping one foot out

of that chamber with the Valkyrie in her possession.

The glint in her eye showed that she knew precisely what he was planning, and she was not about to let him have his way. Smirking,

she leaned over and grasped the tips of the wings, gently pulling upward.

It didn't budge.

Lamb snorted and rolled his head. Undaunted, she tried again. Nothing. Her smirk flattened to determination. Jasper could

help. But then he could also let her do all the work, which was satisfying to say the least. She dropped her hands to the

band wrapping around Lamb's forehead and tugged. It came free.

And knocked the nightcap's tassel onto Lamb's nose.

"Cease that, Lettie," Lamb muttered, brushing the tassel from his face. " Bête petit poulette ."

Esme froze, the tiara in her hands hovering over Lamb's head.

" Bock ," came a groggy noise from the basket. A tiny head with two flattened pom-poms poked over the edge. "Bock."

"Not now, Lettie." Lamb batted at the tassel. His eyes cracked open. "What— You!"

"Yes, darling. It's me." Esme blew him a kiss, took one look at Jasper and the door behind him, then sprinted toward the private

sitting room.

"Intruders! Thieves! Scoundrels!" Lamb yanked a bellpull hanging near the head of the bed. "Servants! Man your positions!

We are under attack."

Bells went off throughout the house. Shouts and racing feet rumbled up the stairs. Jasper took one look at the escape door

that was about to be blocked by servants, then flew after Esme.

"Jasper! Return here at once!" Lamb jumped up and down on the bed.

"Let's do this again never, old friend." Jasper tossed his old nemesis a grin, then slammed the sitting room door shut on

Lamb's screams of outrage. He dragged the teak desk over and blocked the door with it, hoping to buy a few precious minutes

to make an escape.

Cool wet wind blew across the back of his neck. Double glass doors stood wide open to the balcony.

There was no Esme in sight.

He crossed the room and stepped out onto the narrow balcony where two pale hands clung to the wet rail. Leaning over, he spotted

the rest of her dangling two stories above the ground. The Valkyrie was neatly tucked into her silk belt.

He pulled a length of slender rope from the back of his trouser waistband. "Might you be in need of this?"

"You thief." Rain dotted her face as she glared up at him. "When did you take it off me?"

"A good thief never reveals his secrets, but allow me to say I appreciate matching the knickers to the all-black outfit." He leaned out farther and frowned. "Did you really think to jump from here?"

"What other choice did I have?" She spat out the drenched hair sliding into her mouth. "Why must you stand there looking like

the answer to my dilemma?"

"Habit." The blocked door rattled behind him as angry fists pounded against it. "Time to go."

He tied off a secure knot and unfurled the length of rope to the grass below, then swung himself off the balcony and grasped

the rope before curling an arm around Esme.

"Grab the rope. I've got you."

She took hold of the rope and wrapped it around herself. Jasper let go of her waist and plucked the tiara from her belt.

"I'll take that," he said, shimmying down the rope. One quick look and he spotted the scrolled R stamped just above the left wing. At last, the true Valkyrie.

"I'll take it right back in a moment," she said, following him.

Above, wood splintered and shouts barreled onto the balcony as the footman yelled at them to stop. As if that ever persuaded

Jasper. His feet hit the ground and he took off running, the Valkyrie tight in his hand and waterlogged grass squelching beneath

his boots. Esme landed, her footsteps catching up to him despite the mud.

Until she cried out.

Jasper turned as she slid and landed in a puddle. He needed to keep going, should keep going, but the look of confounded surprise on her face and his chivalrous nature forced him to turn back before his

better sense could stop him.

"Now is not the time for a lie-down, love." He grasped her muddy elbow.

"Your terrible jests exhaust me, so I had no choice." She scrambled to her feet, took a step, and threatened to go down again. He caught her as she pitched forward, but his own feet failed to find traction with the momentum and down they both tumbled.

"I told you it was unwise to fall for me," she said, black hair plastered to her forehead and muddy cheeks.

He whipped out a sodden handkerchief and scrubbed at her cheeks. "Now who has the terrible jests?" He grinned.

She took the handkerchief, smearing the mud even more, and grinned back at him.

There they were. Two grinning fools in the mud.

Bam! Bam!

Mud and wet grass spit up around them as footmen took potshots from the balcony.

Lamb jumped up and down screaming behind them. "Shoot them! Do not let them escape with my crown!"

Bam!

"We've officially worn out our welcome." Jasper jumped to his feet. "Time to go." Hauling Esme up, he grabbed her hand and

took off running. Their feet slid over the wet grass, sloshing water as they sprinted through puddles toward the barn that

stood just beyond the hedgerow.

It was a magnificent structure, painted white with black trim, and already Jasper could smell the warmth of hay and horseflesh.

And a way out. Pulling Esme into the barn, he then slammed the door shut behind them and dropped the bar to lock it.

"Go open that wide set of doors on the far wall," he commanded, striding over to where the gleaming Rolls-Royce was parked.

It had been some time since he'd driven, but it couldn't prove that difficult.

Bam! Bam!

Buckshot peppered the wall. Air hissed from the auto's back wheel where an errant ball lodged in the rubber. Scratch that

idea. He'd never liked driving anyway. Turning in a circle, Jasper jumped at the only other mode of transportation available.

He grabbed a nearby bridle and slipped it over the Thoroughbred's head, then led the beast out of the stall.

"What are you doing?" Esme stood before the open doors with the rain a soft gray curtain behind her.

" We are getting out of here."

"On a horse?"

"The taxi that dropped us off a quarter mile away has long since left, and we can't walk the ten miles back to the village."

Bam! A bullet ripped a hole through the side of the barn. "Time to go." He swung himself up onto the back of the horse, then took

the reins and guided the animal over to Esme. He held out his hand. "Hop up."

She stared in terror at the horse. "I've never ridden before."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Bam!

Voices approached outside the barn.

She looked at him, the horse, the holes blasting through the walls, and finally the Valkyrie tucked in his belt. She plucked

it from him and held it tight between her hands. Hesitation warred across her face. She had it. She could make a run for it,

though she'd likely not get very far. Or she'd have to trust him.

The closed barn door rattled on its hinges. Lamb shouted on the other side.

"I'll stuff you both and mount your pretty heads on my wall!"

With a wicked smirk Esme popped the tiara atop her head and secured it with her silk belt. She took Jasper's outstretched hand and swung up behind him. After some grunting and wiggling, she situated herself and announced she was ready.

"Hold on," Jasper said.

He tapped his heels into the horse's flanks. The beast lurched into motion. Esme's arms swooped around Jasper and latched

on for dear life as they streaked out the wide barn doors and into the rain.

Behind them shotguns exploded.

The clouds thinned to allow slivers of moonlight to speckle the ground, proving Fate was smiling on them. Jasper knew from

experience the dangers lying in wait across a dark field. A buried mine. Tripwire. A Bosch sniper. Or a simple hole waiting

to twist an ankle.

To avoid injury to the horse, and thereby themselves, he kept to the chateau's drive before galloping out to the main road.

"Where did you learn to ride like this?" Esme asked as the chateau faded from view. Her warm breath mingled with the cold

rain rolling down the back of his neck, eliciting a shiver.

No longer hearing their pursuers, Jasper slowed the horse to a trot. "My grandfather had horses. He claimed it was the only

pure means of transport for a gentleman."

He rarely offered information on his upbringing and certainly not his connection to Duke, but the admission slipped out freely.

In that moment he realized how tired he was of holding back his past, of covering up the details that made him who he was.

Tired of Duke dictating which parts of him were acceptable to acknowledge while the rest of it was kept hushed in shame.

"And he wanted you for a gentleman?"

"Never quite took to me."

"Being a gentleman is overrated."

"If you think that, you would have loved to watch the army races. Back during the war in the little spare time we had, the cavalry lads would set up bareback races. I had just enough champagne in me once from a village we liberated to make a go at it. I managed to stay on for a good fifty yards before the ground came up to meet me."

She laughed. "You're right. I would have loved to have seen that. Not you falling off a horse, but the thrill of it. That

rush of excitement. Of being alive. It must be how a true Valkyrie feels." Loosening her arms from around him, she held them

out wide and gave a high-pitched shout that echoed into the night sky.

The sound settled deep in his chest, reverberating through the empty cavities and filling them with a beating pulse. "What

was that?"

Her arms wrapped around him once more. "A Valkyrie's battle cry of triumph."

He smiled. It was indeed.