To Steal a Heart

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by Jen Turano


  “What are you doing here, Nicholas?”

  The past sweetness of her childish voice had been replaced with a voice that held a bit of a rasp to it, so different from what he remembered. In a flash, he realized that while he’d known everything there was to know about Gabe, he didn’t know anything about the woman before him—except that she’d not abandoned her life as a thief since, clearly, she’d been trying to crack the safe she was standing beside.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “I asked first.”

  “So you did.”

  Temper flickered through her blue eyes. “We seem to be at an impasse, but because time is of the essence, what say we put the question of what we’re doing here aside? All you need to know is that I’ve business to attend to, and I prefer attending to that business in private.” She nodded to the door. “Feel free to leave.”

  “I came in through the window.”

  “Then feel free to jump out the window. Whatever means you use to exit this room is really no concern of mine.”

  Nicholas rubbed a hand over his face, never dreaming that a reunion with Gabriella would turn downright contentious. Frankly, any reunion he’d dreamed of—and he’d dreamed of them frequently—had consisted of her being delighted to see him again.

  Why she was less than delighted to see him again was somewhat bewildering, but because time really was of the essence, he’d have to puzzle that out later. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I have business to attend to as well.”

  “Not in here you don’t.”

  “I’m afraid I do.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention to her rather bulky form.

  “You’re somewhat broader than I imagined you’d be,” he heard slip past his lips before he could stop himself.

  “And you’re definitely ruder than I remember,” Gabriella returned before she gave her chest a pat. “But before you begin questioning my eating habits, I’m wearing an under-suit that makes me appear muscular.” She gave a shrug of what were apparently stuffed shoulders. “I could hardly hope to pass myself off as a credible gentleman if I didn’t conceal my bosom.”

  The second the word bosom escaped her, Nicholas felt heat begin traveling up his neck, because he’d never, when he’d thought about Gabriella, wondered about her bosom. “It’s hardly appropriate to bring your . . . ah . . . feminine charms into the conversation.”

  “If it makes you uncomfortable, you know where your window is.”

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Did you just broach that topic in the hope that it would have me fleeing your presence?”

  “Thought it was worth a shot.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But may I dare expect that you’ll be agreeable to the tried and true code of thieves—that whoever arrived first wins the opportunity of first attempt?”

  “Ah, so you are still a thief?”

  She blew out a breath. “Will you abide by the code or not?”

  “If I say no?”

  “Prepare yourself for more mentions of bosoms, legs, the feminine curve of my hips, and—”

  He held up a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’ll abide by the code.”

  “Lovely.” She turned back to the safe and put her ear against it.

  “Before you continue, tell me this,” he said, earning a scowl from her in return “Are you the Knickerbocker Bandit?”

  “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “You don’t know if you’re the bandit?”

  “Don’t be absurd. I was wondering if you’re the bandit.”

  His lips twitched. “Ah well, that makes more sense than you not knowing if you’re the bandit.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you?” she pressed.

  “I asked you first.”

  “This is getting us nowhere.” She flexed her fingers, shook them out, then laid her ear against the safe again and closed her eyes.

  It was a routine he’d seen often in the past, one that reminded him of how they’d spent nearly every minute of their childhood together, and how she’d been the very best of friends to him.

  “You’re breathing too heavily,” Gabriella said, opening her eyes and shooting him a glare.

  “I’m breathing how I normally breathe. You’re being too sensitive, a direct result of you evidently being unused to working with a partner these days.”

  “You’re not my partner.”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Be quiet.”

  Gabriella returned her attention to the safe and began twirling the dial. She then turned it the opposite way, stopped twirling, gave it another few twirls to the right, then released a grunt when she pulled on the handle and nothing happened.

  She sent the safe a scowl, laid her ear against it again, shoving the wig she was wearing an inch backward, revealing a glimpse of raven-black hair.

  “Perhaps you should consider removing your wig,” he suggested. “It might be interfering with your ability to hear the clicks of the lock.”

  An entire storm began brewing in her eyes. “I’m not removing my wig, and you need to stop talking. You’re ruining my concentration.”

  “Sorry.”

  Gabriella’s second attempt to open the safe was unsuccessful as well. Stepping away from it, she flexed her fingers again. “You can do this,” she muttered.

  “Of course you can,” he said, swallowing any other words of encouragement he was about to offer when she sent him another glare.

  Her third attempt went the way of the first two and had him stepping directly behind her, intending to lend her his assistance. They’d often collaborated on jobs together, but before he could suggest anything, such as using her other ear, an unusual scent drifted toward him.

  “What is that you’re wearing?”

  “A costume,” she said shortly.

  “No, your perfume.”

  “It’s not perfume, it’s cologne. Sandalwood. I wanted to smell the part of a gentleman as well as look it.”

  Something unpleasant began churning through him. “Did you borrow it from your husband?”

  “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting anyone I’d want to marry.”

  The churning stopped. “The demands of a thief keeping you too busy?”

  “Something like that,” she muttered before she sighed. “You’re crowding me.”

  “You used to say you found my closeness comforting.”

  “I’m not finding it comforting now, so step back, or I swear to you, Nicholas, you’re not going to enjoy what I do next.”

  “Ah, now that sounds like a challenge, and you know I’ve never been able to resist a good—”

  Gabriella spun around so quickly that he didn’t have a chance to brace himself before she planted her fist in his stomach, almost knocking the breath from him. Stumbling backward, he righted himself and forced a smile, even though he longed to release a grunt. “You’re out of practice. Your fist wasn’t formed correctly, which is why you weren’t able to knock me on my backside.”

  “Are you really going to lecture me right now on my punching technique?”

  “Lectures are always more effective if they’re delivered in the heat of the moment.”

  Gabriella smiled a remarkably sweet smile. “Would you care for me to punch you again? I’d be happy to see if I could do a more credible job of sending you on your backside.”

  Nicholas rubbed his stomach and took two very large steps away from her. “There’s no need for that, since time does seem to be getting away from us.”

  Her smile turned smug before she suddenly sobered. “It was not well done of me to punch you, even though I’ve dreamed of doing that for years. Forgive me for what was certainly an impulsive act on my part, but one I shouldn’t have acted upon, no matter that you provoked me.”

  “You were always impulsive and quick to lash out wh
en provoked whenever you were in the midst of a job, and I should have remembered that.” He tilted his head. “But why have you been dreaming of punching me for years?”

  A look of obvious disbelief flickered over her face. “I wouldn’t think that needs any explanation,” she said shortly before she turned back to the safe. Thirty seconds later, he heard a click, and then she was opening the door to the safe, pulling out one of the numerous drawers.

  Oddly enough, instead of stuffing the sparkling jewels in her pockets, she shoved the drawer back into place and pulled out another, then another, then another. “They’re not here.”

  “What’s not here?”

  “What I’m looking for.”

  “And that would be . . . ?”

  “Never you mind about that.”

  Nicholas stepped up beside her, hoping she wasn’t going to punch him again, because his stomach was still sore from her first punch. “May I?”

  “May you what?”

  “Take a look inside the safe.”

  Gabriella studied him for a moment. “So, you are the Knickerbocker Bandit, aren’t you?”

  “And if I say yes?”

  “Then I’ll be reluctant to step aside, because if you are the Knickerbocker Bandit, and you do help yourself to the contents of this safe, I would certainly be considered an accomplice to your skullduggery if you’re caught.”

  “The Knickerbocker Bandit has yet to be caught, and that’s after a good two dozen thefts.”

  “You and I had more than a few dozen thefts under our belt when I was caught.”

  If Nicholas wasn’t mistaken, there seemed to be a trace of disgruntlement in her voice, but before he could question her about that, she stepped out of his way and gestured him forward. “You might as well have a look, but don’t take anything.”

  “Because you’re the Knickerbocker Bandit and you’re already planning on returning here after you and I part ways to empty the safe without a witness?”

  Gabriella’s eyes glittered. “I don’t know how to respond to what is clearly some unusual thinking on your part, but what I do know is this—I’m rethinking my generous offer of allowing you a look in the safe.”

  Remembering full well how contrary Gabriella could turn when annoyed, Nicholas abandoned the urge to press the Knickerbocker Bandit issue and settled for sending Gabriella the smile she’d once been unable to resist.

  Unfortunately, given the grimace he received in return, she was evidently now immune to his smiles.

  Stepping up to the safe, Nicholas began rummaging through the contents, frustration mounting when he didn’t find what he was looking for either. “They’re not here,” he said, stepping back after he replaced the last drawer and closed the safe.

  “What’s not there?”

  Before he could respond, the door to Mrs. Birkhoff’s bedchamber suddenly burst open and someone stumbled into the room.

  Reflexes honed from the time he’d lived on the streets had him pulling out his pistol and leveling it on the newcomer.

  “I just heard Mrs. Birkhoff say she wants to change her shoes, which means we need to get out of—” The someone, who turned out to be a lady in costume, suddenly stopped talking as her eyes widened behind her spectacles, her gaze settling on the pistol he was training her way. Before he could lower it, though, she released a bit of a gasp and crumpled straight to the floor.

  CHAPTER

  Four

  “What were you thinking, scaring poor Daphne like that?” Gabriella demanded, crouching beside the now-unconscious lady. “I’m afraid her nerves weren’t up for the sight of a pistol trained her way.”

  “I thought she was a threat.”

  “She’s not a threat. She’s my lookout.”

  “An unlikely choice, given that she just fainted at the sight of a pistol. I wasn’t planning on shooting her.”

  “How would she have known that?” Gabriella grabbed a large reticule that was sitting next to Daphne and began digging through it.

  “What are you looking for?” Nicholas asked.

  “Smelling salts.”

  “One hardly expects to hear that a woman taking up the position of lookout for a clandestine matter has smelling salts available. That suggests she’s possessed of a less-than-adventurous nature and leaves me wondering why you chose this particular woman to accompany you tonight.”

  “Adventurous and Daphne are never uttered in the same sentence, and the only reason she’s here tonight is because she fit into the Cleopatra costume.”

  Not having the least idea what to make of that, Nicholas bent down and gave Daphne’s cheek a pat, not encouraged when the lady didn’t move a single muscle. “We’re running out of time.”

  “I know, but I can’t find her smelling salts.” Gabriella thrust the bag aside and rose to her feet. “You’ll have to carry her.”

  “I can’t go strolling through the house while carrying an unconscious lady in my arms. That would draw all sorts of attention.”

  “I meant carry her out the window.”

  “You want me to carry a woman out the window and down two stories, using the rope I left dangling over the side of the house?”

  “Unless you have a better idea, yes.”

  Unfortunately, a better idea did not spring to mind. “Out the window it is,” Nicholas said, leaning over to scoop Daphne up from the floor as Gabriella dashed past him and opened the window as far as it would go.

  “Careful. Watch her head,” Gabriella said as Nicholas backed his way through the window while trying to keep a firm hold on Daphne. “I would hate for her to suffer a bump on it.”

  “Just as you demanded I stop talking while you opened the safe, I’m going to make the same demand of you while I try to get your lookout to the ground—a lookout, I must remind you, who certainly does not possess the heart of a lion.”

  “It’s fortunate Daphne’s still unconscious because I can’t imagine her reaction if she came to right now and realized she was dangling out a second-story window.”

  “Let’s hope she stays unconscious because if she comes to and begins to flail about, I’m certain to drop her, and then she’ll suffer more than a bump on her head.”

  “Don’t drop her.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he grumbled before he took hold of the rope he’d used to access Mrs. Birkhoff’s bedchamber, and then, inch by inch, began climbing down the side of the house.

  Sweat beaded his forehead and began running down his face, and by the time he was almost to the ground, his eyes were stinging from the sweat and his muscles were screaming. Before he could make it the last few feet, though, the rope suddenly went slack and he was plummeting through the air. Twisting right before he hit the ground, he took the brunt of the fall, Daphne’s limp form bouncing a single time against his back before she went still again.

  Wondering if he might have broken his nose when his face smacked into the ground, because it was bleeding and throbbing dreadfully, Nicholas shimmied his way out from underneath a still-unconscious Daphne, pushing himself to a sitting position as a most troubling thought sprang to mind. Looking up, he found Gabriella sitting on the windowsill, no rope at hand, looking down at him.

  “Any suggestions?” she called in a voice so low he could barely make it out.

  “You’ll have to go back through the house,” he called just as quietly.

  “I’ll have to jump and you’ll catch me?”

  “Ah . . .” was all he was able to get out before she looked over her shoulder, then back at him. “I hear someone.”

  Realizing that jumping was now Gabriella’s only option, even though she was two stories up, Nicholas lurched to his feet. “On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . .”

  She was flying through the air before he got to three.

  Rushing forward, he didn’t have a second to brace himself before the force of her descent sent them both to the ground, Gabriella landing on top of him.

  For a few painful seconds,
he didn’t bother trying to move, not until Gabriella rolled off him, sat up, and let out a snort. “You almost didn’t catch me.”

  “I didn’t catch you. I merely broke your fall. In all honesty, I’m lucky I even managed that because it usually goes one, two, and then three. You jumped on two.”

  She frowned. “Did I really? I could have sworn I heard you say three.”

  “Just like you heard me say you should jump in the first place?”

  “You didn’t suggest I jump?”

  “I suggested you go through the house.”

  “Ah, that might have been the better choice, if someone hadn’t been about to enter the room.”

  “Which means we need to get out of here before that someone thinks to look out the window we left open.”

  Nicholas got to his feet, pulled Gabriella up beside him, and stilled when the sound of hooves coming from beyond the stone wall that separated the back of the house from the alley caught his attention. “Our ride is here.”

  “Daphne and I have a carriage waiting out front.”

  “If you think I’m going to carry Daphne around to the front, where there are most likely guests milling about, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “I suppose we could ride with you to get to our carriage.”

  “Or better yet, you can accompany me to my home, at which time you can then answer the hundreds of questions I have for you.”

  Gabriella shook her head. “Ann and Elsy will be beside themselves if Daphne and I don’t eventually show up.”

  “Who are Ann and Elsy?”

  Before Gabriella could answer, Daphne’s eyes fluttered open.

  Nicholas smiled. “This will certainly make everything easier.” He leaned over Daphne, his smile disappearing in a flash when Daphne’s gaze settled on his face, her eyes widened, and then she fainted dead away again.

  “Don’t think Daphne’s nerves were up for the sight of so much blood coming from your nose,” Gabriella said. “You’ll need to mop that up as soon as possible, which may allow Daphne to remain conscious for more than a few seconds the next time she comes to. Or better yet, perhaps we should pray she doesn’t come to until I get her into our carriage and we part company.”

 

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