“You’ve already guessed that one.”
“Okay. Windsor?” she said and he turned slowly, shaking his head but smiling now. “Wendell? Warren? Wycliffe?”
“Give up, Kat,” he told her as she reached him.
She smiled. “I don’t give up.”
“Yeah. I know.”
The sun was down and they stood on the dark streets of London, surrounded by the twinkle lights in shop windows and streetlights that were growing brighter by the second. And even though the snow fell harder, Kat could feel Hale start to thaw.
“You didn’t have to do it,” he told her.
“Yes, I did,” she said. “But not for you. I had to do it for me.”
She didn’t realize she had started to shake until Hale took off his heavy coat and settled it around her shoulders. It still carried the warmth of his body and she felt cocooned in its warmth, safe.
And then he kissed her.
“You didn’t steal me,” he whispered, his face so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “You rescued me.”
“Like Rapunzel?” she teased, and he kissed her again.
And again.
And again.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
Only then did Kat realize that Marcus was behind them. She’d known him almost since the moment she met Hale, and she wasn’t entirely surprised to see him there.
“Marcus, it’s Christmas,” Hale said. “Let’s go home.”
“Yes, sir. But before we leave, I wanted to say that I know you have been busy, sir. The last I heard you were still looking for the perfect gift for Miss Bishop, so I took the liberty of acquiring this.”
The case in his hands looked just like a regular briefcase. In his dark suit and wool overcoat, Marcus looked just like any other businessman in London, heading home at the end of the day.
But when he raised the case and clicked it open, something inside of Kat knew to hold her breath.
And there it was, nestled in a protective foam frame, newly cleaned and detailed, but unmistakably gorgeous. Unmistakably familiar.
At the sight of the egg, up close and gleaming even in the dark street, Kat wanted to cry.
She never thought she’d see it again, hold it again. She thought it was gone forever, but there it was.
Then she remembered Marcus’s words: the perfect gift for Miss Bishop.
“Marcus!” she gasped just as Hale started to laugh.
“I don’t even care what it cost me,” he said, and Kat hit him on the arm.
“You should care!”
“Kat, what’s the use in being a billionaire if you can’t buy your girl something pretty for Christmas?”
“But…”
She looked to Marcus as if he was going to be any help.
“I spoke with Miriam, and she assured me Hale Industries needed another charitable donation this fiscal year. My sister authorized me to bid at the auction and purchase this item on Mr. Hale’s behalf.”
“Marcus…” Kat was speechless.
Kat felt the two of them turning to her, but she was backing away.
“No, Hale, I can’t take it.”
“Yes.” He pulled her close. “You can.”
Twenty Minutes Until Christmas
Brooklyn, New York
Uncle Eddie wouldn’t be there, but there was only one place to celebrate Christmas. Kat stood on the dark stoop, looking out over the quiet street while Hale worked on the lock and Angus threw snowballs at Hamish.
“I wish Gabrielle were here,” Simon said, but Kat just shook her head.
“She wanted to spend some time with her mother and the earl,” Kat said as she did the mental math. The sun would soon be up in England, and Kat hoped that Gabrielle was having the kind of Christmas morning of which she’d always dreamed.
“Got it,” Hale said, and the door swung open. “We’re home,” he said—even though his family probably owned a half dozen houses and chateaus and mansions around the world, this was where W. W. Hale V wanted to be on Christmas morning.
She totally couldn’t blame him.
She eased into the dark brownstone, and the first thing Kat noticed was the smell. And the music.
An old fashioned record player was turning somewhere, and scratchy Christmas songs filled the air. Someone had set up a tree, and there were voices in the kitchen.
“I thought you said he was in Italy?” Simon asked.
“He is,” Kat said, not expecting to find Uncle Eddie in his kitchen.
She certainly wasn’t expecting to find two of him, and for a moment Kat froze on the threshold, staring at the two men who stood at the old stove, fighting over a wooden spoon.
“Uncle Charlie?” she asked when Eddie’s twin turned from the stove. She ran to hug him.
“I see where I rank, Katarina,” Eddie huffed, but Kat hugged him as well.
“But what about Italy?” she asked.
“It’s still there. Too hot, though. And full of bugs. Big ones.”
He pushed his brother from the stove, and it took Kat a moment to process what she was seeing. Charlie was the best forger in the world, but he was also a hermit who lived on a mountain in the Alps.
“What are you doing here, Uncle Charlie?”
“I brought him.”
At the sound of Bobby’s voice, Kat turned toward the door. Her father looked younger than he had when he was pretending to be the Director of UK Operations for Interpol. And yet she had the feeling that “Director Hoyt” might make another appearance at some point in the future, much to Amelia Bennett’s dismay. But Kat would worry about that when the time came.