Bride for a Night

CHAPTER NINETEEN



TALIA FROWNED AS Gabriel removed his arm from her shoulders and gently tugged the pistol from her grip, tucking the large dagger beneath his jacket. All she desired was to escape from the townhouse and return to the waiting yacht, but she sensed that it would not be as simple as walking out the door.

“Gabriel?” she murmured, not doubting for a moment he already had a plan to escape.

As expected, he offered a confident smile. “We will need a candle, my dear.”

“Yes.”

She grabbed a burning candle from the mantel, relieved that her shivering was beginning to lessen and that her knees were no longer threatening to buckle.

Gabriel dipped a head toward the silent Frenchwoman who held herself proudly.

“Now if you will kindly lead Sophia into the passageway, Jacques and I will be close behind you.”

Without prompting, Sophia moved to enter the dark tunnel, and Talia hurried to walk at her side. She was in no mood to have to chase down the unpredictable woman if she decided to bolt.

Behind her, Talia heard the sound of male footsteps and she paused, the flicker of the candlelight dancing over the stone walls that were shrouded in dust and the low wooden-beamed ceiling.

“Which way?” she demanded.

“To the right,” Gabriel directed. “You will see a set of stairs just beyond the corner. They lead to the cellars.”

Following his directions, Talia walked beside Sophia, pretending she did not hear the faint scuttle of mice. Surely a few small rodents were the least of her concerns?

“I am sorry, but I could not allow him to kill Gabriel,” she said as they reached the stairs, needing to distract herself from her raw nerves.

The older woman lifted the hem of her thin robe as she cautiously navigated the narrow steps.

“Would you have pulled the trigger?”

Talia grimaced. Although she refused to regret doing what was necessary to keep Gabriel alive, it was not a question she desired to ponder.

Not when it made her wonder if she had inherited more of her father’s merciless nature than she had realized.

“In all honesty, I do not know,” she muttered.

There was an awkward pause before Sophia gently cleared her throat.

“I suppose I should be offering you my appreciation.”

“Appreciation?”

The Frenchwoman smiled wryly. “I would never have dared to believe Jacques would choose me over his loyalty to France.” She sliced a glance toward Talia. “Or his desire for you.”

Talia shook her head, unable to believe a woman of Sophia’s sophistication was not readily aware of Jacques’s devotion. She was precisely the sort of woman that must have had dozens of men worshipping her pretty feet over the years.

But perhaps even beautiful women could be insecure when their heart was involved, she realized with a flare of surprise.

Odd to consider after all the years she had assumed those annoyingly fashionable debutantes were never plagued by painful doubts.

“He loves you if only he were not too stubborn to accept his feelings,” she assured her companion.

Unexpectedly Sophia sucked in a sharp breath. “Do not say such a thing, s’il vous plait.”

Talia blinked in confusion at the woman’s fierce response. “Why not? You have just pointed out that he proved that he cares for you.”

The woman pitched her voice low enough to ensure it would not carry through the shadowed tunnel.

“I will agree he holds an affection for me,” she grudgingly confessed. “And, of course, the thought that I was in danger would have stirred his protective instincts, but I would never be idiotic enough to believe he could offer more.”

Talia reached to give the woman’s arm a comforting squeeze, recalling her own misery when Gabriel had sent her to Carrick Park. She had been quite convinced at the time that she was destined to spend her life alone and unloved.

Now…

She swallowed a sigh. Now she was not quite so certain of her future.

“It is not idiotic to hope,” she murmured softly.

“Almost you tempt me,” Sophia said with a sigh. Then, turning her head, she studied Talia with a somber expression. “Talia.”

“Yes?”

“Do not doubt that had our positions been reversed, I should not hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Talia nearly stumbled over the bottom step at the blunt confession.

“I shall keep that in mind.”



KEEPING THE PISTOL aimed at the Frenchman walking at his side, Gabriel kept a close watch on the two females a few steps ahead of them. They whispered together as if they were old friends, but he was not as trusting as Talia. Sophia was not the typical society maiden content to demurely depend upon a gentleman’s offer of protection. He did not doubt that beneath her fragile beauty she was as dangerous as any cutthroat.

Thankfully she made no effort to attack Talia, and as they reached the end of the passageway, Gabriel shifted his concern to the closed door that blocked their path. He was not going to charge into the cellars without being assured there were no nasty surprises awaiting them.

With his current streak of luck, he might very well discover Napoleon and the entire French army filling the cellars.

Shoving Jacques forward to overtake the two females, he reached out to grasp Talia’s arm and tugged her to a halt.

“Wait, Talia,” he commanded, blowing out her candle to plunge them in blackness.

She readily stepped aside as he slowly pushed open the door, his pistol pointed into the darkness beyond.

“Hugo?” he called softly, the musty scent of aged barrels and damp stone wafting through the air.

There was a faint scrape and then light bloomed in the darkness as Hugo lit a candle and crossed to peer out the door. His golden gaze narrowed at the sight of Jacques and Sophia standing in the tunnel.

“You did not warn me you intended to bring guests.”

Harry stepped forward, his expression sulky as he regarded the Frenchman who had once been his partner.

“Gabriel, what the devil are you doing with this bastard? We need to get away from here.”

Jacques laughed with mocking amusement at the younger man’s obvious discomfort.


“Turning traitor yet again, eh, Harry?”

“I am merely attempting to right a wrong,” Harry said in sullen tones. “Or at least to right one of many wrongs. I can never fully repay the damage I have caused.”

“I would be impressed if I did not know you are a weak-willed worm who was willing to sell your soul to the highest bidder,” Jacques retorted.

Harry stiffened, his eyes dark with guilt. “It is your fault I ever became involved in the nasty business,” he accused. “If you had not offered to pay my debts I should never have been tempted.”

Jacques snorted. “Pathetic.”

Hugo shouldered aside the younger man, regarding Gabriel with impatience.

“Well?”

Gabriel nodded. “There is no longer a need to sneak through the dark when Monsieur Gerard has a fine carriage to return us to the yacht.”

Hugo frowned. “What of the soldiers? They are surrounding the house.”

Gabriel glanced toward his surly captive. “We will use Monsieur Gerard to ensure our safe passage.”

“Are you certain that is wise?” Hugo demanded. “There is no guarantee that an ambitious guard will not be willing to sacrifice his leader for an opportunity to prevent our escape. Napoleon might very well be impressed enough by his initiative to earn a promotion.”

It was a reasonable concern. Even if the guards were unquestionably loyal to Jacques Gerard, there was always the danger that one might inadvertently discharge his weapon at the sight of his leader being kidnapped by the enemy. And once the first shot had been fired, then there would be no derailing the attack.

“You should pay heed to your friend, Ashcombe,” Jacques said, interrupting Gabriel’s inner debate. “My guards will never allow you to escape.”

Gabriel grimaced. There were no safe choices, but one thing was for certain—they could not hide in the house forever. And the longer they waited, the more opportunity for the guards to seek the assistance of the numerous soldiers camped outside the city walls.

“It is a risk, but with a carriage we will be better protected than if we attempt to flee on foot, and certainly we shall be able to travel at a greater speed,” he said.

Talia moved to his side, her face pale but resolute. His tiny warrior.

“There was a carriage waiting at the side of the house when we arrived,” she announced.

It had to be the carriage that Jacques had used to haul them to the townhouse, Gabriel decided.

“Harry, you lead the way.”

“But…” The younger man bit off his protest and glared at Gabriel. “I suppose that you assume I deserve to be shot like a stray dog?”

Gabriel heaved an exasperated sigh. “What I assume is that you know the shortest route out of the cellars and to a side door.”

“Oh.” With an awkward shrug, Harry turned to cross the stone floor, heading past the towering shelves of dusty wine bottles. “This way.”

Gabriel shifted to press the pistol to Jacques’s back even as he glanced at his friend.

“Hugo, if you would escort Mademoiselle Reynard?”

Hugo nodded, reaching to grasp Sophia’s arm. “Of course.”

“Non,” Jacques growled. “She remains here.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I will release her once we have reached the yacht. Until then I intend to keep her close at hand.”

“So much for the famed chivalry of English noblemen.”

“Perhaps I would have more chivalry if you had not kidnapped my wife.”

With a nod toward Talia he watched as she quickly crossed the floor and climbed the narrow flight of stairs closely followed by Hugo and Sophia. Then, giving the Frenchman a shove forward, they made their way out of the cellars and into the kitchens.

Casting a swift glance about the silent room to make certain there were no lurking servants hidden among the worn tables and piles of firewood, Gabriel walked to where his companions were clustered about the entrance to the side alley.

“Stand aside,” he requested in a low voice, pulling open the door and jerking Jacques through the opening and onto the narrow porch. There was a shuffle of movement as several uniformed guards stepped into the light of the flickering torches, their curious expressions hardening to anger as Gabriel lifted the pistol to press it to Jacques’s temple in an unspoken threat. “Tell them to place their weapons on the ground and to step away from the carriage,” he ordered the Frenchman, the edge in his voice warning that he would pull the trigger if necessary.

Jacques stiffened, as if considering a ridiculous act of heroism. Then, sanity returned, and he spoke in rapid French, commanding the guards to lower their weapons and to retreat to the back garden.

Reluctantly, the men bent down to place their pistols on the ground, although Gabriel was not stupid enough to believe they did not have several weapons still hidden beneath their uniforms. Straightening, they hesitated until Jacques offered a faint nod. Only then did they back toward the gate leading to the garden.

“Harry, if you would be so good as to gather the weapons?” he said, leading Jacques down the steps.

His brother brushed past him, collecting the pistols off the ground. Keeping one, he handed another to Hugo and dumped the others in a nearby rain barrel.

Hugo joined Gabriel with his hand still clenched around Sophia’s arm.

“Do you want her inside the carriage?” he demanded.

Gabriel glanced toward the shiny vehicle that was still hitched to the pair of restless bays.

“Yes, I will need you and Harry up top to make certain there are no unpleasant surprises.”

Moving forward Hugo pulled open the door to the carriage and lifted a stoic Sophia onto the leather bench seat before turning to assist Talia. Once the women were settled, Hugo stood aside as Jacques crawled into the carriage muttering his desire to see the entire British Empire fall into the sea.

Gabriel moved forward to join the others as Harry climbed into the seat on top of the carriage.

“I will handle the ribbons,” he announced.

“No,” Hugo growled, moving to untangle the reins from the hitching post and swinging easily onto the carriage, his large form knocking the slender Harry to the side. “I was witness to your spectacular race down St. James’s Street where you injured a dozen pedestrians before overturning and destroying your carriage along with Sir Barclay’s.”

Harry glared at Hugo. “I was drunk.”

“No doubt, but more important you are a cow-handed greenhorn who is a danger to himself and others,” Hugo informed him dryly.

Harry shifted his gaze to his brother. “Gabriel.”

“I should have let the two of you kill one another in the cellars,” Gabriel muttered. “Hugo, get us out of here.”

“Aye, sir.”

Barely waiting for Gabriel to climb into the carriage and close the door, Hugo urged the horses down the alley. Once they reached the main street, he swerved to take them directly south, the swift pace making the vehicle sway and the clatter of horseshoes echo through the sleepy streets.

Inside the carriage the passengers maintained a grim silence. The two women sat stiffly on the seat, clearly unnerved by the air of violence that threatened to explode at any moment. Across from them, Gabriel kept the pistol aimed at the dangerous Frenchman even as he shifted so he could keep watch on the street behind them. It would be difficult to attack a moving carriage but not impossible, and he did not intend to be caught off guard.

Still traveling at breakneck speed, they charged through the city gates to the countryside beyond, but Gabriel remained on alert. Despite the lingering gloom, he had not been blind to the silhouettes of men on horseback that had been barely visible in the distance. It was near enough dawn that the forms might have been servants or merchants going about their business. Hell, they could be drunken noblemen attempting to stumble their way home from the various gambling dens and whorehouses.


But with his current streak of luck, he would bet his last quid that they were Jacques’s guards in pursuit.

They had traveled several miles before Hugo was forced to slow the pace of the carriage as he turned onto the narrow path leading toward the shore. The side-to-side swaying of the vehicle settled into a jolting rattle that nearly sent the four of them out of their seats as Hugo steered them over the rocks and fallen logs that threatened to impede their retreat. Gabriel tensed his jaw, casting a worried glance toward Talia who had grasped the leather strap that dangled from the roof. She was so tiny she was being bounced around like a rag doll.

At last they came to a blessed halt, and Gabriel bent forward to shove open the door.

“Jacques, if you will be so good as to descend first?” he drawled. “I would not desire any ambitious guards that might have followed us to become overeager.”

“Coward,” the Frenchman muttered.

“Cautious,” Gabriel amended, deliberately glancing at the women who sat in weary silence on the opposite seat. “And, Jacques, do not forget that it is not only your life that hangs in the balance.”

In the midst of crawling out of the carriage, Jacques paused to glare at Gabriel.

“Threaten Sophia again and I will—”

“Yes?”

An icy fury tightened the man’s features. “Do not tempt me.”

“It grows late, or rather early, and I desire a hot bath and a warm bed.” Gabriel pressed the pistol to the man’s forehead. “Now move or I will decide you are not worth the trouble of keeping alive.”

“Vermine.”

Gabriel waited for Jacques to step out of the carriage, shifting to the side so he could keep a watch on the small clearing. Beyond the barren emptiness he could see a thick line of trees on one side and on the other the sheer cliff that overlooked the sea.

There was no movement, but that did not mean that there were not dangers skulking in the shadows.

After several minutes passed with no shots being fired, Gabriel turned his attention toward Sophia huddled in the far corner of the carriage.

“Mademoiselle Reynard.” He waved a hand toward the door.

She sent him a dark glare as she climbed over his long legs and out the door, clearly displeased with the turn of events. He ignored her antagonism, his hand reaching out to halt his wife from following in Sophia’s wake.

“A moment, my dear.”

She wrinkled her nose as she met his warning frown. “Yes, I know, Gabriel. I am not to do anything stupid.”

His heart squeezed with an unfamiliar emotion as he gazed down at the pale beauty of her face. When had he memorized every line and sweep of her features? Had it just been since the ceremony? Or had he been secretly treasuring her image long before they were forced down the aisle?

“I do not suppose you would actually offer such a promise?” he asked in rueful tones.

Her magnificent emerald eyes darkened with stoic courage.

“I cannot.”

“You realize that if anything was to happen to you…”

She pressed her fingers to his mouth, silencing his concerns.

“Nothing will happen,” she assured him. “We are within sight of your boat.”

“Yacht, my lady,” he corrected, grasping her wrist and lightly kissing the tips of her fingers. Then his lips were seeking the rapid pulse beneath the delicate skin of her inner wrist. “And we are not yet aboard. Until we are, I refuse to allow you out of my sight.”

A delicate blush stole beneath her cheeks. “And once we are aboard?”

Heat exploded as he leaned forward to steal a swift, devouring kiss.

“I intend to devote the entire voyage to having my wicked way with you,” he whispered against her lips.

For a mindless moment Gabriel was aware of nothing beyond the softness of Talia’s mouth and the shiver of excitement that raced through his body. Then, the unwelcome intrusion of approaching footsteps wrenched him back to reality.

“Gabriel, do you intend to linger the entire night?” his brother called with obvious impatience.

“Damn.” Pulling back, he reluctantly loosened his grip on Talia’s hand and allowed her to climb out of the carriage.

He followed swiftly behind her, stepping onto the rocky path before turning to remove the glass lantern from the side of the carriage. The flame was weak, but it remained dark enough that it should be easily spotted by his crew upon the yacht.

“Hugo, if you will keep an eye upon our prisoners, I will signal my captain.”

He moved toward the edge of the cliff, holding the lamp above his head to swing it in a slow pattern that would alert the captain to send a rowboat to shore.

“Hopefully there will be no need to wait,” Hugo said as he moved to Gabriel’s side. “I left a boat hidden just beyond the rocks. I will make certain it is still there.”

Gabriel paused before giving a reluctant nod. He disliked the thought of Hugo being alone, but then again, the sooner they could be off the cliff the better. It felt very much like a trap at the moment.

“Take care,” he muttered. “I am certain we were followed.”

“I will.” Hugo shifted his gaze toward Harry who stood only a few feet away. “But I am more concerned for you. Do not forget that there is more than one enemy you must guard against.”

Harry took an angry step forward. “Just go check on the damned boat, Rothwell.”

With a last glare at the young man, Hugo turned to make his way down the treacherous path of the cliff, abruptly disappearing from view.

Trusting his friend had not taken a tumble and broken his neck, Gabriel turned back to his companions. Jacques and Sophia remained in the center of the small clearing, but he noted in approval that Talia had shifted to stand near the carriage, wise enough to remain out of the line of fire should the lurking soldiers attack.

How the devil had he ever thought he would be satisfied with a missish society female who would have spent the past few days in screeching hysterics?

With a last lingering glance at the woman who had become a vital part of his life, Gabriel turned back to meet Jacques’s scowl of frustration.

“You promised to release Sophia,” he reminded Gabriel in fiery tones.

“She will be allowed to return to Calais once we are away from the shore.”

Jacques was not appeased. “You will abandon a vulnerable female in the midst of this godforsaken countryside?” His lips twisted as he glanced toward Talia, intentionally reminding Gabriel of his decision to send his young bride to Carrick Park alone. “Ah, of course you will. It does seem to be a habit of yours.”

Annoying ass.

With an effort Gabriel dismissed the taunt. “I do not doubt your soldiers will be delighted to protect her.”

The Frenchman shrugged, not bothering to try to convince Gabriel they were alone.

“If you are so certain they are nearby, then why not allow Sophia to join them now?”

“I would not wish to encourage you to do something stupid.” Gabriel waved his pistol toward the nearby trees. “Her presence ensures your good behavior until we reach my yacht.”

Jacques stretched his lips into a humorless smile. “So I am to be taken to England?”

“You were pleased enough to visit before,” Gabriel mocked.

“So I was,” Jacques admitted. He ignored the fuming female at his side, her countenance warning she would not be left behind. “I presume that I am to be exposed as a French spy?”

“That is a decision to be made by a higher authority than me.”


“And your brother?”

Gabriel tensed, refusing to be distracted by the agonizing choices that awaited him once they returned to England.

“Harry is no longer your concern,” he snarled.

“Are you so certain?” Jacques arched a sardonic brow. “I would say his fate is very much in my hands.”

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone, and narrowing his gaze, Gabriel marched forward to grasp the man by his arm, yanking him across the uneven ground. He came to a halt on the opposite side of the carriage, far enough from the others to prevent their conversation from being overheard.

“What are you implying?”

Pulling from his grasp, Jacques smoothed a hand down his wrinkled jacket and tugged a lace cuff back into place. Gabriel clenched his teeth, barely preventing himself from smashing a fist into the sneering face.

“Once I have been turned over to the English authorities I am bound to be put to the Inquisition,” Jacques said smoothly.

“And?”

“And I can scarcely be expected to keep your brother’s priceless assistance in stealing information from the Home Office a secret. The poor boy will be forever ruined, if not put to death as a traitor.”

Jacques merely repeated what had been going through Gabriel’s mind since learning of Harry’s betrayal. But hearing it announced so bluntly was like a physical blow.

Christ, he would rather take a beating than imagine what was to come.

“Harry chose his fate when he agreed to your devil’s bargain,” he forced himself to mutter, his voice harsh.

“Fates can be altered.” Jacques nodded his head toward the faint outline of the distant yacht that was just becoming visible in the faint brush of dawn. “Return to England without me and no one need ever know that Harry is a traitor.”

“I would know.”

Jacques snorted. “I am aware you have always taken pride in being a pompous prig who considers himself superior to mere mortals, but I would have thought you have learned something from your wife.”

Gabriel flinched. Why? It was not the first occasion he’d been called a pompous prig. His preference for maintaining a dignified presence among society rather than prancing about like a silly fop did not endear him to his peers.

But the Frenchman’s well-played mention of Talia was a painful reminder that he had all too recently allowed his pride to rule in a decision he would regret for all eternity.

“What does my marriage have to do with Harry?” he demanded before he could put back the question.

“You nearly destroyed a fine woman with your desire to punish her.”

Gabriel’s brows snapped together. He needed no reminders of the damage he had caused his young bride.

“It was never my desire to punish Talia.”

“Non?” Jacques shifted his gaze back to Gabriel, his expression knowing. “You blamed her for having brought shame to the precious Ashcombe family, did you not? And you were anxious to prove to Silas Dobson and society you would not tolerate being embarrassed.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “Talia would have been crushed by your need for revenge if not for her considerable courage.”

He growled beneath his breath, once again fighting the urge to pummel the aggravating bastard.

“You know nothing of the matter.”

“I know you are threatening to toss your brother to the wolves to salvage your pride, just as you did with Talia.”

He knew Jacques was attempting to manipulate him, but the accusation sliced through Gabriel with silky ease.

“Talia was an innocent,” Gabriel muttered, as much to remind himself as his companion. “Harry betrayed his country for profit. If I truly desired to protect myself, I would hide his sins rather than expose them to the world.”

“What of your pride? The Earl of Ascombe stripped of his pride has nothing,” Jacques taunted, lifting his hand as Gabriel’s lips parted to offer a scathing retort. “Oh, the polite world will pretend to be aghast over Harry’s treachery, but then they will all realize they predicted that he would come to a bad end. Then, of course, they will rush to sympathize with the poor Earl of Ashcombe who has been forced to endure the terrible antics of his younger brother for so many years and who has now so bravely stepped forward to renounce the boy as a spy.” He paused, watching Gabriel like a viper assessing its prey. An accurate description for a man who spewed his words like poison. “You shall be nothing less than a national hero.”

Gabriel tightened his fingers on the pistol, wishing to God he had never heard the name Jacques Gerard.

“You would say anything to avoid the hangman.”

Jacques shrugged. “Certainly, but that does not make my words any less true.”