Bride for a Night (25 page)

“Enough of this, you must conserve your strength while I fetch some help,” he said brusquely.

Once again Harry’s fingers dug into Gabriel’s arm, keeping him from rising.

“First I must give you this,” Harry said, wincing as he fumbled beneath his jacket and at last pulled out a folded piece of parchment that he shoved into Gabriel’s hand.

Shifting to catch the faint light cresting the horizon, Gabriel unfolded the paper and scanned the list of names that were written in a neat column.

He frowned as he recognized several of the gentlemen. “What is it?”

“The names of those Englishmen hired by Jacques.”

Even suspecting the truth, Gabriel felt an icy dread settle in his heart. Christ, just how deeply had the rot penetrated?

The men on the list were gentlemen of society, some of them members of parliament. Gentlemen of power and influence who could cause untold damage if they truly had sold their loyalty to Napoleon.

The question was how Jacques Gerard managed to lure, or perhaps even force, them into becoming traitors and how willing they had been to betray their country.

“How did you get your hands on this?” he rasped.

Harry returned his hand to cover his wound, his breath hissing between his teeth in pain.

“I made a search of the vicarage at Carrick Park after I became engaged to Talia,” he said, a fine sheen of sweat visible on his brow. “I knew I must destroy the letter that I had written to confess my guilt if I hoped to be rid of Jacques. Unfortunately I was unable to find my letter, but I did discover the names tucked in a prayer book.”

“Does he know that you have this?”

“No.” There was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “I made a copy and returned the original to the book. I intended to use this as a bargaining chip when I felt the time was right.”

It was a powerful bargaining chip, indeed. Gabriel did not doubt that Jacques would be willing to barter a great deal to ensure the list did not fall into the hands of British officials.

And the fact that Harry had handed it over to Gabriel rather than keeping it to use for his own benefit was almost as shocking as the names on the list.

“And now?” he demanded, wondering if this was to be a trap.

“Now it is yours.” Harry regarded him with a wry smile before being racked by a deep cough that chilled Gabriel’s blood. “You will do what is right,” he at last gasped. “You always do.”

“No, Harry—”

“That was not an insult, Gabriel,” his brother interrupted hoarsely. “I have always admired your unwavering integrity, even when it infuriated me. I only hope someday you will be as proud of me as I have always been of you.”

An excruciating pain sliced through his heart.

Did his brother fear he was dying? Was that why he had demanded the opportunity to confess his sin and hand over the secret list?

No. Gabriel gave an unconscious shake of his head.

He would not allow it.

His brother was going to live, by God. Even if he had to follow him to hell and haul him back. “Remain still.”

Gabriel rose to his feet, moving to retrieve the loaded pistol his brother had dropped when he was shot and returned to press it into Harry’s hand before he headed toward the edge of the cliff.

“Gabriel…”

“I will return as swiftly as I am able.”

Not giving Harry an opportunity to argue, Gabriel angled along the edge of the steep precipice, at last stumbling across the path that led down to the muddy shore. His boots were ruined and his jacket torn from the rocks protruding from the side of the cliff, but at last he slid to a halt near the rowboat that was waiting in the shallow water.

“You.” He pointed at one of the two crewmen who were seated in the boat. “Come with me.”

“Aye, my lord.”

With stoic movements that helped to leash the sickening dread spreading through his heart, Gabriel retraced his steps up the path of the cliff, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to ensure the sailor was close behind.

Everything would be fine, he assured himself. He would collect Harry and they would return to the yacht where the captain would clean and bind his wound. The fool might have a scar to display to his friends, but it would be a small price to pay.

Keeping the thought forefront in his mind, Gabriel reached the top of the cliff and jogged back toward the carriage. The entire trip had taken less than a quarter of an hour, but he was anxious to return to his brother.

He became even more anxious when he arrived at the precise spot where he had left Harry only to discover the carriage, along with his brother, was gone.

What the hell?

“Search the woods for Master Harry,” he directed the puzzled sailor with a wave of his hand.

“Master Harry?”

“I left him here. He was injured.”

“Oh. Aye.”

The young man hurried to obey the sharp command, while Gabriel bent down to inspect the dirt path that led away from the clearing.

He found a faint trace of blood as well as several separate footprints, but there was nothing to indicate a struggle. Not that he had expected to find evidence of a battle.

No. If his brother had been attacked while Gabriel was going for assistance he would have called out. Or at least fired the pistol that Gabriel had left with him.

The most logical explanation for Harry’s disappearance was that he had waited for Gabriel to go for help and then used the carriage to escape.

He had been expertly deceived.

Again.

T
ALIA PACED THE
cramped floor of her cabin, avoiding the narrow bunk bed despite her relentless fatigue that urged her to crawl beneath the covers.

Over the past hour she had allowed Lord Rothwell to bully her into eating a light supper followed by a hot bath. She had even changed into a linen night gown, but she stubbornly refused to go to bed until Gabriel had returned to the yacht.

Why bother? She would never be able to sleep. Not when she was consumed with fear for her husband.

Turning on her heel, she tossed back her loose curls and cursed herself for having allowed Gabriel to convince her to join Lord Rothwell in the tiny boat.

At the time, of course, she had assumed the others were following directly behind her. But, she had barely managed to settle on the wooden bench when the first shot had echoed through the air. Dismissing her protests, Rothwell had thrust the oars into the water and rowed them toward the distant yacht with firm strokes.

Worse, the overbearing wretch had threatened her with physical violence if she dared to attempt a return to shore.

Now she was trapped on the boat, or yacht, or whatever the blazes Gabriel insisted that the ship be called, with no knowledge of what was happening on the cliffs that were barely visible through the porthole.

She had lost track of time, although she was aware
that morning sunlight was spilling into the cabin. The sound of her door opening had her spinning around with a startled gasp.

Gabriel.

Her heart stopped as her frantic gaze skimmed over his ruffled golden hair. His lean face was shadowed with the hint of his unshaved whiskers, and his muscular form was covered in a blue satin robe.

He looked weary and rumpled, but blessedly unharmed.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, taking several steps forward before coming to an awkward halt. Despite the past few days, she had not entirely forgotten the forbidding Earl of Ashcombe who would have been horrified to have his undignified wife tossing herself in his arms. She cleared the lump from her throat. “You are well?”

Perhaps sensing her unease, Gabriel surged forward, pulling her against his chest and burying his face in her thick curls.

“Yes, I am well,” he said in gruff tones.

For a long moment Talia simply savored the feel of his arms wrapped around her and the hard press of his muscles against her soft curves. Sucking in a deep breath, she allowed his warm, male scent to ease away her fear.

Lord almighty, she had been so terrified that he had been shot or captured or…with a shudder she yanked her thoughts away from the wrenching image of this man lying dead on the hard ground. It was unbearable.

Eventually he lifted his head, although he kept her tucked close to his body. She regarded him with a haunted gaze.

“When we heard the gunshots, Lord Rothwell insisted that we return to the yacht.” Her jaw tightened with re
membered annoyance. “He gave me no choice but to accompany him.”

A glint of amusement shimmered in his eyes. “Hugo did mention you were reluctant to leave until he convinced you that it would be best to have you safely away from the danger.”

“He did not
convince
me. He threatened to knock me over the head with the oar if I attempted to escape from the boat.”

Gabriel chuckled. “While I deplore his crude methods, I have to admit I applaud his good sense.”

Her glare was as sharp as a dagger. As delighted as she was to have him alive and well, she did not appreciate being treated as if she were a helpless ninny. “Indeed?”

“I could not possibly have concentrated on Jacques or his overeager soldiers if I was worried for you.” His smile abruptly faded, and she felt his body tense. “As it was…”

“Gabriel?”

He glanced toward the porthole, his expression bleak in the faint light.

“My brother was injured.”

“Oh, no.” Genuine regret pierced Talia’s heart. No matter what her own feelings toward the young man who had jilted her, she knew how much Gabriel loved his scapegrace of a brother. He would be devastated if he were mortally wounded. “How badly has he been hurt?”

“I am not entirely certain.”

She laid a hand on his cheek, gently turning his face back to meet her sympathetic gaze.

“You should be with him.”

A muscle knotted in his jaw at her soft words. “He is not here.”

She blinked in confusion. “I do not understand.”

“He is not aboard the yacht.”

“But…” She was struck by an agonizing thought. “Good heavens he is not…”

“No.” Gabriel swiftly alleviated her alarm. “His wound was not fatal.”

She released a relieved breath, but her wariness remained. Gabriel was clearly troubled, and she was certain that it was due to his brother.

“Tell me what happened,” she urged.

With a sigh he lowered his arms and took a step backward. Talia shivered at the loss of his warmth, unnerved by just how desperately she missed the pleasure of being snuggled against his chest.

When had she allowed herself to become dependent upon his touch?

Thankfully oblivious to her dangerous thoughts, Gabriel shoved a hand through his hair, his silver eyes shimmering with a savage emotion that smoldered just beneath his brittle composure.

“When the soldiers attacked, Harry leaped in front of me.”

“Harry?” Caught by surprise, Talia was unable to disguise her shock. “He leaped in front of you?”

His lips twisted. “You are no more shocked than I was by his sudden display of courage. He has never before considered anyone beyond himself.”

“Perhaps he has truly matured,” Talia suggested, more hopeful than convinced. Harry Richardson had been a selfish scoundrel for so long it was difficult to imagine he was capable of changing. Still, miracles occurred every day. “He did, after all, help us to escape.”

Gabriel grimaced. “Perhaps, but his sudden maturity could not have occurred at a worse moment.”

She frowned in confusion. Surely Gabriel wished for his brother to mature into an honorable man? Then she realized the source of his distress.

“When he leaped in front of you he was injured?”

“Yes.” His voice was tight with guilt. “That bullet was intended for me.”

“Do not say that,” she said, horrified.

“It is the truth, but Harry was moving before I could stop him.” His hands clenched at his sides, and Talia was certain that he was already attempting to punish himself for Harry’s injury. “Before I knew what was happening I heard a shot and he was falling to the ground bleeding.”

Talia parted her lips to assure her husband that it was not his fault, only to bite back the words. Why bother? Gabriel could no more alter his habit of assuming responsibility for those he cared about than she could curb her need to reassure him.

“Where was he hit?” she instead demanded.

He shrugged. “I assumed his upper chest, although he refused to allow me to inspect the wound.”

“Refused?” It was difficult to imagine Harry not taking full advantage of his role as the wounded hero. “Why would he refuse?”

“My hope is that he wished to disguise the fact that he was not injured as severely as I feared.”

“Surely not.” Her brows snapped together. “He must have known you were frantic with worry. Not even Harry could be so cruel.”

He smiled at her outrage. “I do not believe he was attempting to be cruel on this occasion, but if I had known he was capable of walking I would have insisted that he accompany me down the cliff rather than leave him alone while I went for assistance.”

“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Jacques?”

“No, the Frenchman and his guards had already fled before my crew arrived,” he said in soothing tones, although his expression remained hard with frustration. “Which was why I did not hesitate to leave Harry on his own. It never occurred to me that he would use the opportunity to escape.”

She barely noted the sensation of the yacht’s swaying motion as they gathered speed and headed toward England. Indeed, she was impervious to everything beyond Gabriel’s pale face and the shadows beneath his eyes.

“You are saying that Harry is gone?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated. His expression was neutral, clearly struggling against his instinctive resistance to share his thoughts and feelings with another. He had been trained to appear invulnerable, no matter how he might long to lean on another.

Then, gathering her courage, she moved to lay a comforting hand upon his arm.

Whether Gabriel knew it or not, he needed her. Especially now.

“Do you believe he intends to return to Calais?” she asked.

He shook his head. “He could not possibly be that much a fool. Jacques would have him shot on sight.”

She had to agree with his reasoning. Jacques had not been pleased to discover his English lackey had betrayed him.

“Then where would he go?”

“I cannot say.”

“Do you intend to send someone in search of him?”

There was a long silence as he brooded on the question, an unmistakable concern darkening his eyes before he heaved a deep sigh.

“Maybe after we have returned to England. Then again, it is perhaps best he disappears for the time being.”

He shook his head, as if attempting to rid himself of the dark thoughts that were plaguing him. Then, allowing his hooded gaze to run the length of her slender body, the tension visibly eased from his expression, and a slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

A primal heat filled the air between them, prickling over her skin and causing her to take an unconscious step backward.

“Yes, it might be for the best,” she managed to rasp.

His smile widened as he prowled forward, his hands smoothing over her shoulders and down her arms.

“For now I have more important matters to occupy my mind,” he said, his voice dark.

Her heart thundered and her breath locked in her throat. Lord, would she ever become accustomed to the thrilling excitement of this man’s touch?

“What matters?” she weakly attempted to tease.

He slowly lifted her hand to his lips. Feeling oddly bemused, Talia watched as he nibbled along the length of her thumb.

“I believe that I warned you of my intentions once we were aboard the yacht.”

She gave a strangled sound as her entire body shuddered in anticipation.

“Surely you must be tired?”

“Exhausted, but that does not diminish my desire for you,” he assured her in low tones. “But first…”

Without warning he bent to scoop her off her feet, cradling her against his chest as he moved to push open the door that led to his adjoining cabin.

She had a brief impression of glossy wooden paneling and sleek furniture that was cleverly tucked into shallow
nooks, but it was the small copper bathtub that was set in the middle of the floor that captured her attention.

“Gabriel, what are you about?” she demanded as he set her to her feet and dropped his arms.

“As much as I might want to tumble you on the nearest bed, I believe you will prefer my embrace after I have bathed,” he said with wry amusement, the wicked smile still curving his lips. “Or better yet, once you have bathed me.”

Talia attempted to appear offended even as a fluttering excitement raced through her body.

There was an undeniable temptation in the thought of being invited to explore his hard body in the guise of bathing him.

“You wish me to be your handmaiden?”

He pressed his lips to the center of her palm, his eyes shimmering with an unmistakable intent.

“I promise to return the favor whenever you desire,” he murmured, glancing toward the copper tub. “In fact, while the tub is small we might manage to squeeze in together.”

A heated color bloomed on her cheeks at the delicious image of their two naked bodies entwined in the hot, soapy water. Did husbands and wives truly do such a thing?

“Really, Gabriel,” she breathed.

“Such an enchanting blush.”

He gave a soft chuckle as he bent down to claim her lips in a consuming kiss. Talia groaned, her hands lifting to grasp the lapels of his robe as his hands ran a restless path down her back. A voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should be disturbed by the swift ease he managed to stir her passions, but it was a voice that she readily dismissed.

In truth she was too captivated by the glorious sensations spreading through her body to care.

Muttering beneath his breath, Gabriel pulled back to regard her with a smoldering gaze, a line of heat staining his cheekbones.

“Help me remove my robe,” he commanded in thick tones.

With shaking hands she reached to tug at the belt that held the robe together, her stomach clenching with a tingling eagerness as he shrugged off the satin garment and allowed it to pool at his feet.

She licked her lips, her gaze skimming down the perfect width of his chest that was lightly dusted with golden hair and down the flat plane of his stomach. She shivered. He was magnificent.

Continuing with her unwitting inspection of his naked body, her nerve faltered as she reached the proud thrust of his erection, and she hastily lowered her gaze to the muscular legs and narrow feet.

It was his soft chuckle that had her lifting her head to meet his sparkling gaze.

“What is so amusing?”

He pressed her hand to his lean cheek. “I would like to believe you are regarding me with such absorption because you are captivated by my manly form, but I fear you are merely searching for deformities.”

Embarrassed to have been caught staring like a naughty schoolgirl, Talia gave a small sniff, refusing to admit that the sight of him was making her ache with need.

“Your vanity has no need of my pandering.”

“You are quite mistaken, my dear,” he growled. “I am in dire need of pandering.”

With a last attempt at sanity, she forced herself to step back.

“Get in the tub before the water grows cold.”

He brushed his mouth along the line of her jaw. “As you command, my dear.”

Steam rose from the water as he climbed into the tub, his long legs sprawled over the edge and arms set along the curled rim.