Yuletide Treasure by Andrea Kane

ammunition I needed.”
    â€œAmmunition?” A puzzled frown. “Isn’t that for guns?”
    â€œOnly sometimes,” Brigitte retorted. “Sometimes it’s forpeople” Leaning forward, she smoothed the blanket beneath Noelle’s chin, gently kissing her brow. “Now, go to sleep. Fuzzy, too.”
    Noelle nodded, her eyes sliding shut. “Good luck with Uncle,” she whispered. “And don’t use too much ammunition when he chest-izes you. He really likes you an awful lot.”
    â€”
    Five minutes later, Brigitte silently contested Noelle’s assessment.
    â€œI apprised you that my chambers were never to be violated,” Eric snapped, glaring at Brigitte from his doorway.
    â€œI didn’t violate them. I knocked. I intend to see you. Where we speak is entirely your choosing.”
    His eyes flashed like glittering chips of obsidian. “Seeing and speaking to me are not part of our arrangement.”
    â€œNevertheless, I aim to do so.” Brigitte stared up at him, undeterred by his towering height and formidable temper. Further, she could see beyond the harsh features and unruly appearance, beyond his bitter facade. The man who’d ruled her girlhood dreams was still there, buried deep inside this dark, caustic stranger. “You won’t succeed in frightening me, my lord,” she informed him. “I wasn’t afraid of you before, and I’m far too upset to begin now. So you might as well let me in. I have something important to say, and I don’t intend to leave until I’ve said it.”
    With a stunned expression, Eric eased open the door. “Make it brief.”
    Brigitte stalked in, too troubled to feel awkward about the fact that she was in Eric’s bedchamber for the first time. She whirled about to face him. “It concerns Noelle.”
    â€œIn that case, it does not concern me. Good day.”
    â€œCease this absurd pretense, Lord Farrington. It’s pointless. You’re fooling neither of us.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you rambling about?”
    â€œAbout you. About this supposed loathing you feel for Noelle. And about the nonsensical myth you insist on furthering that you’re a blackhearted tyrant.” She paused to catch her breath. “You’re a fraud, my lord. A fraud and afool. Both of which are your doing. Nonetheless, if you choose to retreat from life, that decision is yours to make, so long as it hurts only you. However, in this case, it hurts Noelle more. Thus, I’ve given up waiting for you to come to your senses, and decided to intervene.”
    Eric looked torn between disbelief and eruption. “Have you gone mad?” he thundered, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. “Has a fortnight with my niece stripped away your senses?”
    â€œQuite the contrary, my lord. A fortnight with your niece has enlightened me beyond my wildest expectations. She’s a brilliant, sensitive child—but of course you wouldn’t know that, would you?” With a quick prayer, Brigitte pressed onward. “In fact, you don’t know her at all.”
    â€œNor do I intend to, you insolent—”
    â€œI questioned Noelle about the type of birthday celebration she prefers,” Brigitte interrupted. “It appears she’s never had any celebration whatsoever.”
    A sardonic laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. The small amount of time she’s spent destroying each house in which she’s resided left little time for festivities.”
    â€œWhose fault is that?”
    His jaw clenched so tightly Brigitte feared it might snap. “I’d suggest you watch your tongue, Miss Curran.”
    â€œWith due respect, my lord, I’m not the least bit interested m what you suggest. I’m interested in Noelle, and her well-being. She needs a normal life: not just studies and discipline, but a family, strolls in the park, other children