Bride for a Night

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



TALIA 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 remembered 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.

Before she could lose her nerve, Talia knelt beside the tub and reached for the cake of soap that had been left in a pewter dish on the floor. Dipping it into the water, she hesitantly smoothed it along the strong line of his shoulder.


Gabriel groaned his approval, allowing his head to rest on the back of the tub and his eyes to slide shut.

Without his piercing silver gaze to watch her every movement, Talia felt her awkwardness ease, and her touch became bolder as she soaped the strong column of his neck and then the width of his chest.

He was astonishingly…hard, she realized as his well-toned muscles rippled beneath her touch. Although Gabriel had never been one of the effeminate dandies that pranced about London, his graceful movements and elegant attire had disguised the sheer strength of his body.

Her blood heated as she soaped his broad chest and felt his heart racing as she sensuously stroked his slick skin. In this moment she was in command of this dance of seduction, and she was heady with the rare sense of power.

She turned her attention to his nearest arm when a wave caught the yacht and water splashed from the tub onto the floor. Talia hastily began to rise, only to be halted when his fingers encircled her wrist, and his lashes lifted to reveal a smoldering heat in the depths of his silver eyes.

“Paradise,” he murmured. “I could become accustomed to having you play handmaiden.” His gaze lowered to the lace that did little to hide the low scoop of her bodice. “Of course, you would have need of proper attire.”

Talia sucked in a deep breath, acutely aware that her nipples were hardening beneath his heated gaze.

“Proper attire?” she croaked.

“Hmm.” His thumb stroked her inner wrist, no doubt able to feel the rapid beat of her pulse. “Perhaps a pair of those gauzy harem pants that are preferred by the sultans.”

She narrowed her gaze. For all her enjoyment in playing the role of handmaiden, she would be damned if she would dress as a concubine.

“You attempt to put me in harem pants and I will drown you,” she warned.

He chuckled, his gaze flicking over her flushed cheek. “Do you oppose the notion because you are a prude or because you possess the heart of a bluestocking?”

She stilled, meeting his amused gaze with a somber expression.

“Would it trouble you if I were a bluestocking?”

He lifted a brow. “The truth?”

She gave a slow nod, attempting to hide just how much his answer meant to her.

“Yes.”

He moved forward to press a kiss to her startled lips.

“I find the thought of a clever, well-educated woman who possesses the heart of a warrior and the lush temptation of a gypsy unbearably erotic,” he said lowly.

Her heart melted. It was, of course, the perfect response.

“You do?”

“If you have need of proof…”

With a tug on her wrist, Gabriel lowered her hand beneath the water and urged her fingers to wrap around his thick arousal.

“Oh.”

He hissed out a raw breath of pleasure, a shudder rippling through his body as he surged upright and out of the tub. Talia barely managed to straighten before his arms were wrapped around her waist, and she was being maneuvered toward the edge of the cabin.

“Oh, indeed,” he growled, his arms tightening as he tumbled her onto the bunk, his large body following downward to press her into the soft mattress.

Her hands lifted to his shoulders, barely capable of thinking as the damp heat of his body branded through her sheer nightgown.

“You are wet,” she murmured.

“And now so are you,” he teased, nipping at the lobe of her ear before allowing his tongue to trace a path to the base of her throat. Her breath caught as he nuzzled lower, giving a sharp tug on the nightgown to rip the material and expose her body to his searching lips. “Allow me to be of assistance.”

“Really, Gabriel,” she protested, even as she shivered in growing pleasure. “There is no need to ruin my nightgown.”

“I will buy you another.”

He shifted to watch the movement of his slender hand as it glided over the full curve of her breast, his thumb teasing the sensitive tip of her nipple before moving down the soft curve of her waist. He smiled as her breath quickened, his hand stroking over her hip, and then with a gentle tug he parted her legs to brush his fingers up the bare skin of her thigh.

She had to swallow twice before she could speak. The excitement in her lower belly spread through her body like wildfire. Not that she desired to complain, but it was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate upon anything beyond his hand that moved ever higher.

“Would it not be more sensible to simply allow me to remove the garment?”

“Perhaps it would be more sensible, but it would not be nearly so enjoyable.”

Lowering his head, Gabriel captured her lips in a kiss that demanded utter surrender. At the same time his clever fingers found the aching spot between her legs. Her hips jerked upward as he parted her to seek the slick dampness within.

“Dear lord,” she breathed in shock.

“Do you like that?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a finger into her moist channel, his thumb easily discovering that magical point of pleasure. “Yes.”

He groaned softly, his head lowering to press his mouth against the pulse that pounded a wild tempo at the base of her throat.

“I can feel your passion. Taste it on my lips.”

Talia struggled not to be swept beneath the dark, blissful tide of her rising desire. It was all happening so fast, but she could not seem to gather the will to stop the delicious assault.

Then, accepting that she was battling the inevitable, she sighed softly and allowed her hands to explore the hard planes of his chest.

He gave a low hiss of pleasure, his mouth skimming down to the curve of her lush breast before tugging her hardened nipple between his lips.

Talia’s toes curled in delight as he gently suckled her nipple while his finger continued to stroke between her legs with that swift, delectable pace.

Her hands slid around to discover the broad width of his back. She could spend hours just savoring the feel of his warm, satin skin beneath her hands.

For the first time in her entire life she was not Silas Dobson’s painfully shy daughter. Or the awkward debutante who was an endless source of amusement throughout society.

She was a woman who was capable of inspiring the deepest passions of her husband.

Glorying in the delicious sense of confidence, she arched her hips upward as the pleasure began to swell toward the looming pinnacle.

“I need you. I need to be within you.” He lifted his head, the silver eyes filled with a yearning that made Talia’s heart squeeze in the oddest manner. “Are you prepared?”

She shivered at his expression of undisguised hunger. Was there anything more thrilling than this man’s fierce desire?

Even if it was only for the satisfaction her body could offer.

Her fingernails dug into his back as that shimmering, glorious peak hovered just beyond reach. At the moment she would have agreed to anything he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered.

With a growl that echoed through the cabin, he returned his mouth to her aching breast as he shifted his body over the top of her, settling between her thighs.

“Open for me, my dear,” he rasped against her skin, moaning softly as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his slender hips. “Yes, that is perfect.”

“Gabriel…”

Her words were brought to a shuddering halt as his erection slid into her welcoming body. A shocking jolt of intense pleasure surged through her as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

She moaned with each deep thrust, lost in his perfect rhythm as he continued to plunge inside her and at the same time used his teeth to torment the tip of her breast.


At last it was all too much.

Talia gasped as she writhed beneath his touch, her nails raking down his back. Even having enjoyed his loving more than once she was still shocked by the near violent explosion that clenched her lower muscles and brought a startled scream to her lips.

Paradise, indeed.



GABRIEL FLOATED in a haze of blissful satisfaction, his arms wrapped tightly about his wife as the yacht swayed and rocked beneath them.

It would be a simple matter to close his eyes and allow his exhaustion to pull him into slumber. He could not even recall how long it had been since he had been able to claim more than a snatched hour or two of uneasy rest.

In truth, he had not enjoyed a full night of uninterrupted sleep since he had sent Talia away from London.

But, while he was satisfied that they truly had escaped from the clutches of Jacques Gerard and that they would soon be safely tucked at Carrick Park, he found it impossible to take his gaze from Talia.

It was not just her tousled beauty that was bathed in the sunlight that peeked through the porthole, although the sight of her dark, glossy curls tumbled over the pillow and her pale face flushed with lingering pleasure was enough to inspire poets. No, it was more the unshakable, if irrational, fear that she might disappear from his arms the moment he closed his eyes.

His arms tightened around her warm curves and tugged the cover over their entwined bodies. Talia wiggled onto her side, studying him with a searching gaze.

“What is troubling you?”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “What could be troubling me?”

She wrinkled her nose at his evasive response, no doubt sensing his reluctance to discuss his odd apprehension. But rather than snuggling against his chest and falling asleep as he had hoped, she continued to regard him with that all too knowing gaze.

“What are your plans for when we return to England?”

He allowed his hand to smooth down the arch of her back. If he could not coax her to sleep, then perhaps he could find another means to distract her.

“Do you wish me to describe them in detail?”

She trembled in ready response, but pressing a hand to his chest, she refused to be diverted. Stubborn wench.

“I mean in regard to your brother.”

Knowing when to accept defeat, Gabriel rolled onto his back and stared at the open beams above his head.

“I cannot keep Harry’s betrayal from the King or his council within the Home Office,” he admitted.

He felt her stiffen at his side. “But…”

“It is not to punish my brother, Talia,” he said, overriding her predictable protest. Once he had accepted that Harry had disappeared with no intent of returning to England, Gabriel had made his decision. The only decision possible. “But while I pray that he has truly learned his lesson, I cannot risk the lives of British soldiers while Harry is still capable of causing harm.”

Her hand brushed over his chest to lie against his heart, as if unconsciously attempting to ease his concern.

“I am sorry.”

He turned to press his face into her unruly curls, breathing in the sweet scent of lilac and warm woman. Who could have ever predicted he would not only put aside years of inexorable control to share his feelings with his wife, but that he would actually seek her comfort?

Astonishing.

“It was inevitable that I would be forced to reveal Harry’s relationship with Jacques Gerard,” he admitted, his voice revealing his painful regret, “but I have hopes that his treachery will be kept a closely guarded secret.”

“I do not understand. I thought you were convinced he must stand trial.”

“That was my original thought. However, I believe Harry has offered me the means to ensure the prime minister will do whatever necessary to prevent word of the betrayal from becoming common knowledge.”

She shifted so she could study him with a suspicious frown. “What means?”

His lips twitched as he sat upright and reached for his jacket at the end of the bunk. Did she fear he had some nefarious plot in mind?

Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Gabriel pulled out the piece of parchment he had hidden. Then, leaning back, he handed it to Talia. “This.”

He hid a smile as she carefully tucked the blanket over her lovely body, as if he had not already memorized every delectable inch of her satin skin, before she unfolded the parchment to study the list.

She at last lifted her head with a puzzled frown. “I have been introduced to several of these gentlemen, but I do not recall them being particular friends of Harry. Why would they assist him?”

Gabriel snorted, well aware that at least two of the gentlemen had threatened to issue a duel with his reckless brother when they’d caught him in bed with their wives.

“I can assure you that assisting my brother was never their intention,” he said wryly.

“Then why do you have their names listed?”

“I did not list them.” He grinned. “Jacques Gerard did.”

She silently considered his revelation, her cunning mind swiftly comprehending the impact of the names.

“They are traitors?” she asked in shock.

He gave a lift of his shoulder. “It would seem so.”

“But…” She regarded him with wide eyes, struggling to accept the evidence. “Dear heavens.”

“Yes,” he murmured.

Her lips flattened as she tossed aside the list and gave a disapproving shake of her head.

“Is there no one to be trusted?”

“Power is too often corrupted, I fear, but we at least have the means to use their weakness to our advantage.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have a plan?”

He plucked the parchment off the bed and waved it lazily.

“Neither Jacques nor the traitors are aware that Harry stumbled across this list.”

His smile widened in anticipation. He had swiftly recovered from his own dismay at the sight of the names. Unlike Talia, he had already been jaded by his fellow members of parliament. Which meant he understood that the traitors would never come to justice, despite the fact that the bastards would be eager enough to see Harry hang for his crimes.

A knowledge he intended to use to his advantage.

“Where did he find it?”

“At the vicarage.” He silently reminded himself to have the house searched from attics to cellars, as well as the church. “Harry copied the list and left behind the original. So far as they are concerned, their contemptible alliance remains a secret.”

“You do not intend to expose them?”

“Actually, it will be my suggestion that the traitors are used to send false information to the French.”

She pressed herself to a seated position, her hand clutching the blanket. Not that she was entirely successful in keeping the abundant temptation of her breasts covered, he was pleased to note, taking full pleasure in the glimpse of alabaster skin and a rosy nipple.

“What would be the purpose?” she asked.

Gabriel swallowed a groan. He wanted to ignore her question and press her back onto the bed. It was surely a sin to waste this precious time alone discussing spies and traitors and devious politicians.

However, Gabriel suspected that Talia would not be prepared to respond to his touch until she was fully satisfied that he had shared his every thought and feeling.

She was like the ocean tide. A relentless force that could wear away the most rigid stone.

“If we can deceive Napoleon into wasting his efforts in preparing for attacks that will never occur or plotting futile ambushes on British troops that will never arrive, then he will be left vulnerable to Wellesley’s true battle plan.”


“Ah.” A sudden smile lit her face. “Of course. Brilliant.”

Gabriel resisted the embarrassing urge to preen beneath her feminine admiration.

It was not precisely brilliant. Indeed it was a simple enough scheme in theory. Unfortunately, it depended upon the ability of war officials to offer the various traitors false information that they could pass on to the French, while managing to keep the genuine battle plans a secret from them.

Still, he intended to keep his doubt of those in command to himself. He would have need of them if he were to keep Harry from the gallows.

“Let us hope that the Home Office considers it equally brilliant.”

“How could they not?”

He snorted at her naivety. “Politicians are rarely sensible, even when it comes to organizing a war. They are far too busy battling one another to actually concentrate on the true enemy.”

She looked as if she desired to argue, but she simply gave a faint shake of her head.

“I still do not comprehend how you intend to prevent Harry from being revealed as a traitor,” she instead admitted.

“I intend to barter for his future.”

“With the list?”

“Yes.” He shifted to return the precious sheet of parchment to his jacket pocket before leaning back and running a slender finger down the bare skin of her shoulder. “If they desire to keep the names of the remaining traitors a secret, then they must agree that Harry’s connection to Jacques Gerard will never be revealed.”

She shivered beneath his touch, her eyes darkening with a heated anticipation.

“What if they refuse to follow your suggestions?” she managed to demand.

His finger continued down her arm and toward the hand that so desperately clutched the blanket to her bosom.

“They will still be willing to sacrifice whatever necessary to keep the betrayal of these men from society.”

“I do not know how you can be so certain.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Because I am well aware of the hysteria that would explode throughout Britain once it was revealed that such powerful gentlemen were in secret contact with a French spy.” He grimaced at the mere thought. “It would not matter if the men on this list had offered nothing more tangible than the name of Wellesley’s boot-maker to Jacques Gerard. It would be assumed that the war is on the brink of failure and that all of parliament has been purchased by Napoleon.”

She gave a slow nod. “Yes, I see your point.”

Grasping her hand, he gently untangled her grip on the blanket, hissing in pleasure as the fabric slid down to reveal the pale perfection of her curves.

“So long as Harry avoids any further stupidity, he should be able to put his past behind him and begin anew,” he said, his tone distracted as his body stirred and hardened. “Wherever he is.”

A flush stained her cheeks as she lay back on the pillows, her eyes shimmering with an invitation that would tempt a saint.

“He will return when he is ready,” she murmured.

“Enough of my brother.” Stretching out at her side, Gabriel curled his fingers around the soft weight of her breast. “I believe we have a better means of passing the rest of the voyage.”

She arched beneath his touch, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck.

“Do you?”

He lowered his head, his gaze centered on the sensuous lips that were already parted in anticipation of his kiss.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”