Bride for a Night

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE



TALIA 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 insistence 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 finish 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 na?ve.”

“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.

“Talia?” Gabriel prompted, his gaze searching her pale face with growing concern.

She blinked back the threatening tears and summoned a faint smile. Tomorrow she would consider what might be done to salvage her marriage. For tonight…

She leaned forward to lightly place her lips against his mouth.

“Certainly not.”

“Good,” he rasped in obvious relief, his hands lifting to frame her face. “Because I have no wish to waste our last evening together at odds.”


She nibbled at the corner of his lips, pleased by his low moan of approval.

“I can imagine how you do desire to spend our evening,” she teased.

“You know me so well.” He pressed a possessive kiss to her mouth before pulling back to regard her with a gaze dark with need. “But first I believe I owe you a hot bath. And then we shall enjoy a private dinner in bed.”

“And then?”

He chuckled with wicked anticipation. “And then I shall allow you to take full advantage of me.”



LONDON HAD NEVER been more uninviting.

After a week of drizzling rain and mud, the sun had finally peeked from behind gray clouds to blanket the city in a smothering heat. Even worse, the stench of the docks tainted what little breeze managed to stir the air, making it impossible to leave the windows open.

It was little wonder that most of society had fled the city for their respective estates, Gabriel sourly acknowledged, leading Hugo from the mews behind his townhouse to a side door that led directly to his study.

God knew he would never have lingered for the past week if he’d had a choice.

Not only was London in late summer always a misery, he was desperate to return to Devonshire and the pleasure of his wife’s company.

Entering the long room lined with towering bookshelves, Gabriel headed directly toward his massive walnut desk and the waiting brandy decanter.

The thought of Talia was a nagging concern that refused to be eased.

He had only to close his eyes to imagine the pale beauty of her face and the sweet temptation of her body, but it was not his incessant desire for her that plagued him. No, it was the sense that all had not been right when he left Carrick Park that festered in the back of his mind.

Thank God he had at last finished with his business.

Pouring two glasses of the brandy, Gabriel tossed the amber liquor down his throat before turning to hand the other glass to his guest.

Damn, who could have suspected that it would take him two days to simply convince the king and prime minister that the list of prominent English noblemen was not some French hoax? And another three days to gather a select few leaders of the Home Office to warn them of the potential traitors, only to listen to them haggle and barter in an effort to turn the unexpected situation to their advantage.

In a mood as foul as Gabriel’s, Hugo took the proffered drink and paced across the polished parquet floor.

“There are moments when I question how the British Isle does not sink into the sea beneath the weight of those bloated buffoons,” he muttered, heading for the bay window that overlooked the cobbled street below.

Gabriel smiled wryly as his companion perched on the edge of the window seat, his muscular form attired in a sage jacket and black breeches appearing far too large for the cramped room.

This study had been the private domain of his father. Though he personally possessed no interest in Roman coins or the pottery displayed in the long glass cases cluttering the room, he did not have the heart to remove them to the attics.

Not while his mother still considered this her home.

Pouring another measure of brandy, Gabriel leaned against the edge of the desk.

“Those buffoons are our noble leaders, Hugo.”

“They have spent the past three days squabbling like children,” Hugo muttered in disgust. “I do not believe they give a damn about the threat to our troops. All they care about is convincing one another they have no connection to the traitors, although they are all eager enough to wish to keep the names a tightly guarded secret.”

Gabriel grimaced. He wanted nothing more than to put the hours of bickering behind him. It was perhaps inevitable that those who were accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed would find it difficult to compromise with other equally powerful leaders, but playing the role of diplomat had made his head ache.

“We at least made certain that the bastards will be unable to continue to hide in the shadows betraying their country,” he said, resigned that he had done everything possible to keep the traitors from causing further harm. “Even if they never come to justice.”

“Yes.” Hugo polished off the brandy and set the empty glass on a rosewood table inlaid with brass. “Do you suppose they will be able to fool the traitors into offering Napoleon false information?”

“There are one or two within the Home Office who possess the skills and the intelligence to turn the situation to our advantage. It all depends on whether they can prevent the others from interfering.”

Hugo looked far from impressed, but he readily turned the conversation to more important matters.

“Well, at least you have accomplished your mission.”

“Yes.” A grim smile touched Gabriel’s lips. Whether right or wrong, he had made certain that his brother’s guilt would be hidden along with the other traitors. “Harry is protected.”

“Let us hope that he has learned his lesson.”

“Agreed,” Gabriel breathed, feeling a pang of regret at the thought of his brother.

For all of their troubled relationship, Harry was still family, and until he returned to England, Gabriel would mourn his loss.

There was a short pause as they both silently pondered the end of their dangerous adventure. Then, with a faint shake of his head, Hugo leaned against the windowsill, the fading sunlight exposing the lines of weariness etched on his face and the shadows beneath his golden eyes.

Something was keeping Lord Rothwell awake at night, and Gabriel did not for a moment believe that it had anything to do with French spies and overly stubborn Englishmen.

“When do you intend to return to Carrick Park?” Hugo demanded.

“Directly after dinner.”

Hugo arched a startled brow. “You will travel at night?”

Gabriel smiled in anticipation. He would travel through the brimstone of hell if it meant getting back to Talia.

“As much as I enjoy your companionship, old friend, I far prefer that of my wife.”

Hugo chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest. “I am wounded.”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “And what of you?”

“Me?”

“When do you plan to return to your estates?”

Rothwell stiffened, his expression becoming wary as he turned his attention to the far wall.

“I have not yet made firm plans.”

“No?” Gabriel pretended surprise.

“I have duties to attend to.”

“What duties?”

“Does it matter?”

“I would think you would be anxious to leave London.” Gabriel deliberately hesitated. “Unless, of course, there is a compelling reason for you to linger?”

Hugo made a sound of impatience, his head turning to meet Gabriel’s searching gaze.

“Why the sudden interest in my travel plans?”

“You did leave Devonshire rather abruptly in the company of Miss Lansing.”

Hugo’s expression hardened, but he could not disguise the revealing color that stained his cheeks.

“You requested to be rid of her.”

“True,” Gabriel agreed, “but I meant for you to send her on her way, not to personally escort her all the way back to London.”

With a sharp motion, Hugo was on his feet, restlessly pacing through the narrow space between the glass cases.

“I could have turned the stubborn minx away a dozen times and she would only have returned,” he growled. “She was determined to speak with Talia. The simplest solution was to make certain she left the neighborhood altogether.”

Gabriel might have accepted his friend’s explanation had he not been behaving as a lunatic over the past week.


He was distracted one moment, short-tempered the next and inclined to stare blankly for hours on end, lost in the midst of a daydream.

Gabriel struggled to hide his smile. “How very generous of you to sacrifice your pleasant stay at Carrick Park to spend days on the road traveling with a tedious wallflower…”

Hugo barreled forward, grasping Gabriel’s shoulders and giving him a warning shake.

“You will never speak of Miss Lansing in that manner again,” he snarled. “Do you understand?”

Gabriel tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement. Who would have thought that the mighty Lord Rothwell, the hulking brute who terrified most gentlemen of the ton, could be felled by a female half his size?

“I understand perfectly.”

Coming to his senses, Hugo released his tight grip and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Forgive me. I am…”

“Baffled, bemused and bewildered?” Gabriel suggested wryly.

“Yes.” With a heavy sigh, Hugo dropped his hands and squared his shoulders. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Gabriel’s smile faded to a somber frown as he studied his friend.

He had not forgotten his futile battle against his feelings for Talia. Nor how he had allowed his stubborn pride to harm the woman who deserved nothing but his highest regard.

How could he call himself a friend if he did not do everything necessary to keep Hugo from repeating his mistakes?

“It would seem to me that you have two paths that you can follow.”

“And they are?”

“You can return to your estates and put Miss Lansing from your mind,” Gabriel said, not at all surprised when Hugo’s body stiffened in a silent rebuff of the reasonable suggestion. It was already obvious he was too far gone to take the sensible path. “Or…”

“Or?”

Gabriel set aside his glass to clap a hand on his friend’s shoulder, his expression rueful.

“Or you can accept the inevitable with far more grace and dignity than I did.”

Hugo shook his head. “You are not reassuring me, Ashcombe.”

Sensing that his friend had made his decision regardless of whether he had admitted the truth to himself or not, Gabriel found his curiosity provoked by the woman who had captured his interest. He had dismissed Miss Lansing as just another society chit, but it was obvious he must have been mistaken in her character.

“Tell me, Hugo, what is it about Miss Lansing that has attracted you?”

“I am not at all certain,” Rothwell admitted with a smile that warmed his golden eyes. “I find her beauty enticing and I enjoy a woman with soft curves, but there is no doubting that she is not at all the current fashion.” He paused, as if calling the image of Miss Lansing to mind. Obviously not a difficult task. “Her curls are brown rather than gold and they refuse to be properly styled. She has dark eyes that are pretty enough, but instead of gazing at a man with invitation, they hold a good deal too much censure, whether it is earned or not.”

Gabriel heaved a sigh. He, better than anyone, understood the danger of becoming fond of a female who should never have caught his attention.

It was, after all, easy enough for a man to mistake lust for love. Such passing fancies were forgotten as swiftly as they struck and rarely cost a gentleman more than a few expensive baubles.

But when a man turned his thoughts to a female who was destined to lead him about like a hound on a leash…well, that was a far greater danger.

“What of her temperament?”

“She is overly inclined to speak her mind, but I prefer her blunt speech to the empty flattery of most females,” Hugo said, his expression becoming defensive, as if he were bracing himself for an argument. “This much I can assure you—she traveled to Devonshire and risked being punished by her family because she was desperate to know that Talia was well. She was no false friend.”

Gabriel nodded. “You relieve my mind. I am pleased to know that Talia has such a loyal friend.”

Hugo’s tension eased and a sudden smile curled his lips. “Of course, I am not at all certain that I have yet to convince her that you are not a villain who is plotting to do away with your wife.”

Gabriel stiffened in outrage. “Is the female a lunatic? Why the devil would she believe I am plotting to do away with Talia?”

Hugo shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the thought that his friend was considered a murderous fiend.

“My theory is that she reads too many novels.”

Before he could retort, the door to the study was opened and a short, portly butler with thinning silver hair and a perpetual frown entered to offer a stiff bow.

Annoyed by the interruption, Gabriel fixed the servant with an impatient gaze. “Yes, Vale?”

“I thought you would wish to know that Lady Ashcombe arrived while you were out.”

“Bloody hell.” Gabriel reached for the brandy decanter, wondering if the day could get any worse. “I thought she was settled in Kent. Did she say what brings her to London?”

The servant cleared his throat, a hint of pompous disapproval in his expression.

“It is not the dowager, my lord, but the current Lady Ashcombe.”

The bottle landed back on the desk with enough force to make the glasses rattle. “Talia?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Gabriel was barely aware of Hugo shifting as he clenched his hands at his sides and attempted to leash his surge of frustration.

Dammit. Had he not made it clear that he wished for Talia to await him at Carrick Park?

Not that he should be surprised that she would deliberately flout his command. Talia was no longer the timid child he had wed. She was now a woman with her own mind who was quite capable of making her own decisions.

A quality he fully admired under most circumstances.

But how could he protect her if she refused to cooperate?

“When did she arrive?”

“Shortly after luncheon.” The butler sniffed, a lingering censure etched in his expression. “She demanded that her belongings be put into the master bedchamber.”

A wave of fury crashed through Gabriel as he stepped forward, barely preventing himself from planting his fist in the pompous face. Only the knowledge that the servants were bound to have taken their cue of how to treat Talia from his own mother kept him from violence.

“Vale, listen to me with great care,” he ordered in low, lethal tones. “Talia is not only the mistress of this house, but she is my most beloved wife. If I suspect that there is so much as one person on my staff who is not treating her with the utmost respect, I will have the whole lot of you thrown out into the streets.” He waited as Vale paled to a sickly hue, his double chin quivering in fear. “Is that perfectly understood?”

“Yes, of course.” He bowed deep enough his joints creaked. “My deepest apologies, my lord.”

“That will be all.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand, watching the butler scurry from the room.

It would be an easy matter to force the servants to accept Talia once it became known he would endure no less than complete deference to her authority. And in time, of course, they would come to love her as those at Carrick Park did for her own sake.

His mother, however, and the rest of society would not be so easily swayed.

Which was precisely why he had requested that she remain in Devonshire.

Turning his head, he glared at Hugo, as if this latest disaster was entirely his fault.

“What the devil was she thinking?”

“Perhaps she desired to visit the shops,” his friend suggested. “Females are oddly drawn to pretty gowns.”


Gabriel snorted. “Not Talia. She has no interest in fashion.”

“Then perhaps she wished to spend some time with her father.” Hugo grimaced. “As much as we might detest the bastard, he is her only family.”

“I am her family now and if that bastard dares to step a foot into this house I will have him transported to the colonies.”

“Do you intend to have me transported as well, Gabriel?”

The cold female voice had both men spinning toward the doorway.

Gabriel’s heart gave a leap at the sight of his wife in a pretty sprigged muslin gown that hugged her soft curves. Her dark hair was piled atop her head with a few curls left to brush her temple. A simple strand of pearls was draped around her neck.

She looked as fresh and inviting as a spring day.

Then he registered her furious gaze, and his pleasure was forgotten. Not only had she ignored his request to remain at Carrick Park, now she had overheard his insensitive words.

Damnation.

It truly was a rotten day.

Stepping forward, he held out his hand. “Do not be ridiculous, Talia.”

“Why not?” Her green eyes smoldered beneath a layer of ice. “It would be the perfect solution to be rid of your unwanted wife.”