Bride for a Night (29 page)

He sensed her hesitation before she wisely decided to ignore his wry confession. Now was not the time to discuss the powerful attraction that had struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Of course, he was not especially pleased when she placed her hands against his chest and attempted to wiggle from his grip.

“Release me,” she commanded.

“Do you promise not to scream?”

“No, I most certainly do not.”

His lips twitched. Stubborn vixen.

“Miss Lansing, I assure you that Talia is in perfect
health and that she is in no danger from Gabriel,” he said, attempting to ease her fears. “In fact, he happens to be embarrassingly besotted with her.”

“Then why has she not answered the letters I sent?”

Hugo shrugged, regretting that he and Gabriel had yet to discuss the story they intended to invent in explanation of their sudden disappearance.

How the hell was he to put off this female with vague lies and bluster?

And of course it did not help that he was perilously distracted by the feel of her palms that remained pressed against his chest and the curvaceous hips that were perfectly fitted between his thighs.

“She has spent the past weeks away from Carrick Park,” he announced.

“Really?” She narrowed her gaze in disbelief. “Where did she go?”

“She was sailing with her husband upon their yacht.”

“Sailing?”

“It is customary for newlyweds to enjoy a honeymoon trip,” he retorted with the thought it would be unshakable logic. “And what better place to find privacy than in the midst of the ocean?”

Naturally she leaped upon the fatal flaw of his story.

“And you joined them on this supposed honeymoon trip?”

“Of course.” His smile was closer to a grimace. “I am a devoted sailor.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do not believe you.”

And why should she? Hugo ground his teeth, his usually clever wits refusing to cooperate as he searched for an explanation. Then, like a gift from God, he caught sight of Gabriel and Talia strolling toward the stables beside the manor house.

Perhaps his luck was changing.

“Then believe this,” he muttered, grasping her hand and towing her toward the window. “Does Talia appear to be frightened or unhappy?”

She jerked from his grasp, but as she caught sight of the couple strolling arm in arm her belligerent expression softened, the tension easing from her luscious body.

As well it should, he wryly acknowledged. Not even Miss Lansing could fail to notice the devotion in Gabriel’s expression as he gazed down at his wife, or the manner that she snuggled into his side, as if she could not be close enough to his larger form.

In silence they watched as the two disappeared through the stone archway leading to the stable yard. Then, clenching her hands at her sides, Miss Lansing turned to stab him with a puzzled glower.

“Why do you refuse to allow me to speak with her?”

He considered a variety of clever lies before heaving a sigh. She deserved at least a portion of the truth for her obvious loyalty to her friend.

“Gabriel has never been in love before,” he said. “He has yet to overcome his rather primitive urge to jealously guard his bride from the world.”

“Oh.” Miss Lansing faltered, something akin to longing briefly rippling over her plump face. The same longing that had tormented Hugo since his return from France. “She is…content?”

“She is content,” Hugo readily assured her. “And once she has properly trained her stubborn husband, I suspect that she will be deliriously happy.”

“Good.” Hugo watched as she squared her shoulders. “If you will call for my carriage I must return to London.”

Hugo’s brows snapped together. He had presumed that
she was staying with friends or family in the neighborhood. Now his blood ran cold at the thought of her journeying such a distance without protection.

Had the female taken leave of her senses? The roads were overrun with highwaymen and smugglers and bloodthirsty cutthroats. Not even coaching inns were safe from overly forward noblemen who would press their advances on any vulnerable young lady.

“You are traveling alone?” he demanded, moving so he could stand directly before her.

She appeared confused by the question, waving a hand toward the slumbering crone on the sofa.

“Obviously not. I have a companion.”

“Companion?” he snarled. “Not even the most lenient of guardians could consider that…” He struggled to temper his description of the woman. For all he knew, she was some sort of relation to Miss Lansing. “That ancient female a proper companion.”

She sniffed. “Thankfully you are not my guardian and who I choose as my companion is none of your concern.”

“You are mistaken.” The words tumbled from his lips before he realized what he was about to say. “I have decided to make it my concern.”

She appeared as startled as he was by his overbearing declaration.

“Excuse me?”

He hesitated. It would be simple enough to retract his arrogant claim. Or to chuckle and pretend it had been nothing more than a feeble jest.

Then he could pat Miss Lansing upon the head, send her and her lethargic companion on their way, and perhaps find his lost sanity.

But even as the thought passed through his mind, he dismissed it.

Miss Lansing was not stepping outside the door without him at her side.

“It just so happens that I was about to leave for London,” he announced, his firm tone warning he had made his decision. “We shall travel together.”

She took a hasty step backward, horror spreading over her face.

“We most certainly shall not.”

He smiled, moving to cup her cheek in his hand. “Kitten, you will eventually learn to simply concede defeat once I have made my decision. It will make our future together far more pleasant.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Have you gone utterly mad?”

He gazed deep into the wary brown eyes, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.

“There is a good possibility.”

T
ALIA STRUGGLED TO
catch her breath as Gabriel rolled off her trembling body and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

They had spent most of the day traveling about the estate to meet with the tenants who had been inordinately pleased to see her. For goodness’ sake, one would think she had been gone for years rather than days the way they had fussed and fawned over her.

Not that she had protested. Their ready warmth and displays of affection had made her feel as if she were coming home. A feeling that she would never have dreamed possible only a few short months ago.

So, ignoring her humble instincts, she’d allowed the women to feed her their favorite seedcake and drink their cider while the children had crawled into her lap and the men had hovered in the background with wide grins on their weathered faces.

At last Gabriel had declared that it was time to return to the manor house. He had turned a deaf ear to her protests that she was not at all weary, and loaded her into the carriage.

He had continued to insist upon her need for rest once they had returned to the house and had even caused the servants to twitter in shock as he had swept her off her feet and carried her up the polished oak staircase to the master bedchamber.

Once alone, however, he’d seemed to forget his insis
tence that she enjoy a nice nap as he had laid her on the massive four poster bed that consumed a large amount of the peach-and-silver room.

Talia had attempted to chastise him, but she had soon forgotten why she should be annoyed with him as his mouth had crushed her lips in a hungry kiss and his hands had tugged at her clothing with a satisfying haste.

In truth, she had reveled in his obvious passion.

It was perhaps ridiculous, but she had harbored a relentless fear that once they returned to England, Gabriel would return to the cold, condemning man whom she had first wed.

There was something deeply reassuring in the heat of his kisses and his groans of pleasure as he had at last entered her with a slow, exquisite thrust.

At last regaining command of her breath, Talia turned her head to cast a glance toward the ormolu clock set on the mantel. She heaved a rueful sigh as she forced herself to sit up, realizing that she would have to hurry if she were to be presentable before they were to meet Hugo in the library.

“And where do you think you are going?” he demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder, excitement fluttering through her stomach at the sight of Gabriel’s naked body sprawled over the sheets. In the firelight his hair shimmered like the finest gold while his eyes had darkened to a mysterious smoke.

He surely must be descended from Greek gods. No mere mortal should be so beautiful.

Resisting the urge to smooth her hands over his broad chest in an effort to prove he was flesh and blood and not some figment of her imagination, Talia nodded toward the clock.

“We must get dressed for dinner if we are not to be late.”

Gabriel made no effort to postpone his exploration of her naked curves, his hand running a path down her hip and over her thigh in a blatant invitation.

“Why bother?” he murmured. “We can request a tray be sent from the kitchens.”

“Really, Gabriel, you are a dreadful host,” she chastised even as she shivered in delight. “We cannot abandon Lord Rothwell. He will be expecting us to join him.”

His fingers drew aimless patterns on her sensitive skin as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on her lower back.

“Actually Hugo left earlier today for London.”

She stilled, caught off guard by the casual announcement. Despite Hugo’s initial animosity, she had been certain that they had become friends during their dangerous journey together. The thought he would simply disappear was oddly hurtful.

“He left without saying goodbye?”

“It was a sudden decision.” Gabriel leaned back to meet her wounded gaze. “He left a message stating that he recalled urgent business in town that he could not delay.”

“And he could not wait until we returned to tell us of this urgent business?”

Gabriel shrugged, although Talia did not miss his guarded expression.

“Hugo is a reasonably intelligent gentleman who understands that I prefer to devote my attentions to my new bride, not keeping an unwelcome guest entertained,” he said smoothly. “He obviously wished to slip away without causing a fuss.”

A chill of suspicion speared down Talia’s spine.
Knocking aside Gabriel’s arm, she rose from the bed and pulled on a satin robe in a pretty shade of rose.

She was well enough acquainted with her husband to know when he was lying to her.

Tying the belt of her robe, she turned to study Gabriel with a narrowed gaze.

“I do not doubt Hugo’s intelligence, but I am quite certain that he told me he intended to remain at Carrick Park until you were prepared to travel to London.”

Gabriel shifted until he was leaning against the carved oak headboard, his expression unreadable.

“It would seem that he changed his mind.”

“
He
changed his mind or you convinced him to change it?” she challenged.

He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I swear I had nothing to do with his abrupt departure.”

“Hmm.”

There was no mistaking her lingering distrust, and Gabriel heaved an impatient sigh.

“What is troubling you?”

“I am not entirely certain.” Her features settled into a stubborn expression. “I simply sense you are keeping something hidden from me.”

He gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “An impossible task, as I am quickly discovering.”

It was an impossible task, but that was precisely why an unpleasant sense of trepidation settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Fine.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling suddenly cold despite the cheerful fire that burned in the white marble fireplace. “I suppose I shall be able to question Hugo once we arrive in London.”

He shrugged, angling to the side so he could reach out to grab the fabric of her robe.

“If you insist, now…”

Talia danced backward, tugging her garment from his fingers.

“And when will that be?”

He scowled at her persistence. “Really, Talia, you should not be putting your husband through the Inquisition when he is attempting to seduce you.”

“You may seduce me all you desire once you answer the question,” she promised, refusing to be distracted. “When do we leave for London?”

There was a long silence before Gabriel folded his arms over his chest and heaved a resigned sigh.

“In the morning.”

Her lips parted in shock. “For goodness’ sake, when were you intending to tell me?” she chided. Really, did men have no notion of how difficult it was to prepare for such a long journey? “I promised Mrs. Grossman I would call in the morning with a poultice for her weak chest and then I intended to spend a few moments with Mr. Clark, who requested that I write a letter to his sister in Yorkshire whom he has not seen in the past fifty years.” She waved a hand toward the large armoire set between two windows overlooking the cliffs. “And, of course, I must pack.”

His hooded gaze skimmed over her flushed cheeks. “There is no need to excite yourself, my dear.”

She shook her head. No doubt he expected to climb onto the nearest horse and gallop down the lane. A mistress of a house, however, had a great deal more to consider.

“I will never be prepared to leave tomorrow if I do not tend to at least a few tasks this eve,” she muttered, already making a list in her head of what she could fin
ish before retiring for bed and what must be left for the morning.

“Talia, listen to me.”

Talia waved a hand, pacing the floral carpet. “I do not have time to waste, Gabriel.”

“You will not be traveling with me tomorrow.”

Preoccupied with her thoughts, it took a moment for Gabriel’s words to penetrate. Finally, she slowly turned to study his inflexible expression.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I intend my journey to London to be a short, excessively discreet visit,” he said, his tone carefully stripped of emotion. “The fewer people who realize that I have sought a meeting with the king and prime minister, the less chance that I will arouse the suspicions of the traitors.”

It was a reasonable explanation, and yet, she was not convinced.

Perhaps it was only her bothersome insecurities that made her certain that he was deliberately attempting to keep her from traveling with him to London.

But it did not matter.

She was not going to settle for being hidden away like a nasty secret. Not again.

“It does not matter how careful you might attempt to be, the word of your arrival is bound to become known.”

He shrugged aside her warning. “Even if it does, I shall be gone before word can spread.”

Talia forced herself to pause and consider her words. There was no use in directly accusing him of trying to keep her at Carrick Park. He would only deny her claim. No, she must be clever enough to outwit him.

She forced herself to move forward, perching on the edge of the bed and deliberately allowing her robe to gape
just enough for a small glimpse of her breasts. Predictably his gaze shifted down to linger on the soft mounds, and Talia hid a small smile of triumph. She was not above using what few weapons she might possess.

“You must know that it will only cause more speculation if it appears you are attempting to sneak about.”

“And what do you suggest?” he demanded.

“Society will find nothing suspicious in the arrival of Lord and Lady Ashcombe in London.”

He made a sound of disgust, but his attention remained focused on her gaping robe.

“You cannot be that naïve.”

“And it will surely be expected of you to introduce me to the king.” She pressed her advantage, tilting her head so that her dark hair spilled over one shoulder. “We will simply plan a soiree and invite those gentlemen you wish to speak with. No one will have any reason to question such an innocent gathering.”

His gaze sharpened as he lifted his head and regarded her with an impatient scowl.

“Christ, Talia, do you have any notion the stir our arrival will cause?” he snapped. “The scandalmongers will have the entire town buzzing with rumors.”

She shrugged. “Which is precisely what we desire, is it not?”

He pushed away from the headboard, his jaw clenched as he battled his surge of anger.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?”

She met his gaze squarely. What rumors did he fear? Those of their hasty marriage? Of their sudden disappearance?

Or the fact that his bride was the socially unacceptable daughter of Silas Dobson who remained a source of humiliation for the Ashcombe family?

The aching disappointment that was a familiar part of her past threatened to return as she reached to lay her hand on Gabriel’s arm, her expression one of unconscious pleading.

“Just consider, Gabriel, if all of society is speculating on our return to London, then they shall be too occupied to consider who you might or might not be seeking out to speak with.” She forced a stiff smile to her lips. “Surely that is worth enduring the gossips?”

The silver eyes flared with an unexpected exasperation. As if she was at fault for desiring to remain at her husband’s side rather than him being to blame for wishing to abandon her.

“You want to be besieged by the vultures of society?” he rasped.

“Of course it is not what I wish, but it is inevitable.”

“Not if you remain here.”

Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. After all they had endured together and for all his passion, he still wished to keep her stashed far away from society.

“I cannot avoid London forever,” she breathed past the lump in her throat.

Seemingly unaware of her mounting distress, Gabriel lifted a hand to thread his fingers through her loose curls.

“Not forever, but there is no need to return until next season.”

“That is months away.”

He frowned, clearly expecting her to concede defeat with grace.

“I thought you enjoyed being at Carrick Park,” he accused.

“I do, but…”

“And I do have more than one estate we must visit,”
he continued without offering her an opportunity to respond. “My servants and tenants will be anxious to become acquainted with the new Countess of Ashcombe.”

Talia glanced away from his grim expression, accepting that he had made his decision and he would not be swayed, no matter her efforts.

“Gabriel, why do you wish to keep me from London?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

There was an awkward pause before Gabriel cleared his throat in obvious discomfort.

“I have told you that this is no more than a fleeting visit,” he said, his fingers shifting to cup her nape, his thumb running a soothing path down the tense line of her jaw. “I intend to linger no longer than necessary before returning to Devonshire. It makes no sense for you to disrupt your plans for what will very well be a handful of days.”

She kept her lashes lowered. “I see.”

“I promise you will be more comfortable here and I will return as swiftly as possible.”

“Of course.”

At last sensing she was less than pleased with his refusal to even consider her wishes, Gabriel shifted his thumb beneath her chin and tilted her face upward.

“You do not intend to sulk, do you, my dear?”

Actually her first thought was to flee from the room and find a place to nurse her wounded heart in privacy. She had allowed herself to hope that her future with Gabriel would be one of mutual respect, if not love. Now it was even more wrenching to realize he continued to harbor a measure of embarrassment at having her as his wife.

With effort, she managed to squash the instinctive response. No. Not on this occasion.

She was no longer that fragile young woman who allowed others to rule her life, she reminded herself. Or who retreated from the world rather than confront those who would hurt her.

Over the past weeks she had discovered the ability to fight for what she desired.

And that was precisely what she intended to do.