Bride for a Night

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



THE WORDS LEFT Gabriel’s lips before he could call them back, and for a heart-stopping moment he was uncertain which of them was more shocked.

Certainly he had known his feelings for Talia went deeper than lust. Or even the mild affection many gentlemen felt for their wives. Hell, the raw, overpowering need he possessed for this woman seemed beyond mere words.

But he had never consciously considered making such a revealing declaration.

Now that the words hung in the air, however, he had no desire to take them back.

Why should he?

He was not ashamed of his feelings for Talia. In truth, he would willingly shout them to the world.

His only concern was Talia’s stunned reaction.

Surely she should be a bit more pleased by his announcement?

Unless, of course, she did not return his feelings?

Had he destroyed any hope of her love…

No. He squashed the unbearable notion.

No matter how long it might take, or what he had to do, he would eventually win her heart.

She cleared her throat at last and managed to croak, “Did you just say you love me?”

He smoothed a hand up the curve of her spine, cupping her nape in a loose grip. He did not think she intended to bolt, but he was unwilling to take any risks.

“I did.”

Her expression remained wary, as if unable to accept the truth of his words.

“You no longer fear I might be a burden?”

“My feelings for you…” He faltered, unable to describe the emotions that filled his heart.

Dammit, he was not a bloody poet.


Talia allowed her hand to slide up his chest and gently placed it against his cheek as she regarded him with a pleading gaze.

“Please tell me.”

He sighed, unable to deny her soft plea. “I thought they would make me weak, but I have never felt stronger,” he admitted softly. “As if there is nothing I cannot accomplish with you at my side.”

Her mouth parted, then with a low cry she threw her arms around his neck and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Gabriel.”

He hauled her tightly against his body. He was not entirely certain what had prompted her sudden embrace. Or that smile that warmed him to the tips of his toes. And at the moment he did not care.

The sensation of her soft curves pressed against him was a delectable distraction, reminding him that it had been far too long since she had shared his bed.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a hungry kiss to her lips.

An urgent heat exploded through him as her lips softened and parted in welcome, allowing his tongue to dip into the sweet temptation of her mouth.

He felt her shiver, and he pressed a hand to the lower curve of her back, urging her against his aching arousal. He heard her breath catch and started planning the quickest route to his bedchamber without being interrupted by a servant. But Talia pressed her hands against his chest and arched away from his seeking lips.

“Wait,” she breathed.

He groaned in genuine pain, desperate to have her naked beneath him.

“I have missed you, my dear.”

“I still need to know why you did not want me to travel to London.”

He frowned, uncertain why she continued to nag upon his perfectly reasonable request that she remain in Devonshire.

“I have told you. I do not want you hurt.”

“But…”

He shifted his hand to press a finger against her lips. It was obvious that Talia was too preoccupied to be properly seduced. He had no choice but to confess his plot.

“Allow me to finish,” he commanded.

She arched a warning brow, but thankfully he felt the amused twitch of her lips beneath his finger.

“Very well, my lord.”

He absently outlined the full curve of her lower lip. “I cannot alter what happened in the past, but I can make certain that your future among society is considerably more pleasant.”

She stilled, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “I do not doubt your ability to browbeat others into pretending they accept me, but to be honest, I would prefer their insults.”

He chuckled. There were moments when he forgot just how na?ve she was.

“You underestimate my skills. There will be no need for browbeating.” He paused, realizing he was not being entirely truthful. “At least not from me.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then who? Lord Rothwell?”

“His undoubted approval of you will certainly be of assistance, but your greatest weapon will be my mother.”

“Your mother?” she whispered. “Good lord.”

Gabriel did not blame her for her disbelief.

The dowager countess’s horror in having Talia as the next Countess of Ashcombe had been the source of avid interest throughout society. The older woman had rarely missed an opportunity to bemoan the cruel fate that had brought Silas Dobson into her life, without once admitting that any blame for that fate might lie at Harry’s feet.

And, of course, her dramatic exit from London on the day of the wedding had ensured that none were left in doubt of her disapproval.

Gabriel, however, understood his mother well enough to know that her flamboyant outrage had more to do with her pleasure at being the center of attention and less to do with her feelings for Talia.

“Whatever her numerous faults, my mother does happen to be the unquestionable ruler of the fashionable world,” he pointed out in tones that defied argument.

“Yes, but she detests me.”

He shrugged. “She does not know you.”

Talia hunched a defensive shoulder, her expression darkening with unpleasant memories.

“That did not prevent her from fleeing London rather than attending our wedding.”

His hand moved, stroking down her throat in a comforting gesture. Dammit. This was precisely why he did not wish to have this discussion with her. He did not want her to suffer the painful reminiscences of her awkward years among society. Or their less than romantic wedding.

“You would not have denied her such a wondrous opportunity to earn the sympathy of her friends as she was driven from her home by the evil interloper who stole her son, her title and her position?” he teased.

Her eyes flashed with emerald fire. “I do not find this amusing.”

“You will become accustomed to my mother’s love for melodrama,” he promised, hoping that he spoke the truth. He had become resigned to his mother’s excessive emotions. He could only hope that Talia would learn to be likewise tolerant. “Especially when she is given the opportunity to play the role of the tragic heroine.”

She wavered, a hint of uncertainty softening her expression.

“You are saying that her anger was a pretense?”

“Who can say how much she believes and how much is a performance?” he admitted wryly. “I do know that she will soon grow weary of her self-imposed exile to Kent, and she will be eager for an excuse to return to London.” He bent down to steal a swift kiss, his body still hard with frustrated desire. “I intend to offer that excuse.”

Her hand curled around the nape of his neck, her fingers threading into his hair so she could gently tug his head back to meet her searching gaze.

“What are you plotting?”

“I intend for her to visit Carrick Park so she can come to know you.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, unable to hide her flare of unease. “Are you certain that is a sound notion?”

“Of course I am. She will adore you, I promise.”

She grimaced. “You can promise all you like, but I do not believe she could ever come to adore the daughter of Silas Dobson.”

Gabriel chose his words carefully. He had made a promise to himself that he would never lie to Talia again. But neither would he allow her to fear that she would never be accepted by her husband’s family. His mother was…not a complicated woman.

She delighted in her excessive bouts of emotion, but they were as shallow as they were mercurial. Talia would never genuinely understand a woman who could change her feelings with the same ease she changed a gown.

For now it was enough to convince his tender young bride that she could win her mother-in-law’s approval.

“She will adore you because you are generous and kind and loyal,” he informed her.

She remained unimpressed. “You make me sound like a favorite hound.”

“Fine.” He peered deep into her eyes, smiling with all the love that filled his heart. “Then she will adore you because she will see that you are my heart, and that without you my life would be devoid of happiness.”

As hoped, Talia melted beneath his low words, her fingers moving down the line of his jaw in a gentle promise.

“She will realize all that?”

He bit back a groan. His body wanted to be finished comforting Talia with words. It urged him to prove his love and commitment to her happiness in a far more primitive means.

Thankfully he was intelligent enough to realize that tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her up the stairs to his bedchamber was going to have to wait. At least until Talia was satisfied he had no nefarious plot in trying to keep her away from London.


“Absolutely,” he managed to mutter.

“And then?”

With an effort he forced himself to concentrate on his scheme to smooth Talia’s return to the ton. It was, after all, rather brilliant.

“Then she will return to London with the astonishing pronouncement that she finds her daughter-in-law an absolutely delightful young woman whom she fully intends to sponsor during the upcoming season,” he said, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips. “The various hostesses will be vying for the opportunity to lure you to their gatherings.”

She frowned, considering his explanation for a long moment. “You make it seem very simple.”

He lifted his brows in amusement. “Talia, we have survived my brother’s treachery, your father’s brutish bullying and being captured by French spies. Everything else is simple.”

She shook her head. “None of them were nearly so lethal as the ton.”

“Trust me, we will have every one of those pompous idiots kneeling at your pretty feet before the season is over.”

There was another pause, and Gabriel smothered his sigh of impatience. How could he blame her for her lingering unease? Not only was he requesting that she rely on the assistance of a woman who had treated her with blatant disdain, but she had endured years of abuse by the members of the aristocracy.

“I do,” she unexpectedly announced.

“Talia?”

“I do trust you.”

He trembled as her whispered words settled in his heart. Damn, he had been so terrified that he would never regain her trust. Now he pressed his lips to the hollow beneath her ear, torn between relief and the aching need to hear the words she had yet to utter.

“And?” he prompted, his voice hoarse.

“And what?”

He pulled back to regard her with a chiding glance. “Is there nothing else you wish to tell me?”

“Hmm.” She pretended to consider his question. “Mrs. Donaldson insisted that I bring your favorite gooseberry jelly and several meat pies with me. She has taken a crazy notion into her head that your fancy London cook is attempting to starve you.”

He lowered his head to nip at her lower lip. “That is not what I desire to hear.”

“Then perhaps you wish me to tell you of Mr. Price’s mule…”

“You know exactly the words I long to hear, my dear,” he growled. “Do not torture me.”

His tone was teasing, but there was nothing amusing about the agonizing knot of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. It did not matter how often he assured himself that Talia would never have gone to such efforts to rescue him in France if she did not care for him. Or how readily she responded to his touch.

He was as uncertain as a young lad, desperately longing for her affection even as he feared it might be withheld.

“Very well.” Framing his face in her hands, she met his gaze with a slow, breathtaking smile. “I love you, Gabriel. With all my heart.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. “You are certain?”

She lifted onto her tiptoes, lightly brushing a kiss over his mouth.

“I was fascinated by you from the moment I first caught sight of you across the ballroom,” she admitted. “You were so astonishingly handsome.”

Joy bubbled through him as he offered a smug smile. “Yes, well, I cannot argue.”

She snorted. “Of course, you were also aloof, and cold and so impossibly arrogant that I was relieved you never glanced in my direction. You were terrifying.”

“No, not terrifying,” he murmured. “It was the only means I knew to keep others at a distance.”

“Well, it was certainly effective,” she ruefully assured him. “I assumed that you were destined to be a mere fantasy I could only admire from a distance. And then you arrived in my private chambers demanding that we be wed.”

“Please.” With a groan he pressed his forehead against hers, dreading the memory of how he had injured her. “I cannot bear to speak of that day.”

Her fingers tenderly caressed his cheek. “I was hurt by your cutting manner, and even more by your insistence that I leave London. But in some ways the opportunity to be away from my father’s constant criticism, and even your intimidating presence, allowed me to discover a strength that I never dreamed that I possessed.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You are the strongest, most courageous woman I have ever known.”

“And then Jacques kidnapped me…”

“The bastard.”

She chuckled at his low growl. “And you charged to the rescue.”

He lifted his head with a wry grimace. “That was my intent, but in the end you had to rescue me. Twice.”

Her fingers trailed down his jaw, her eyes soft with devotion that warmed Gabriel to the tips of his toes.

“You risked your life for me, and I knew that even if you could never return my feelings, that I would love you for all eternity.”

The words seared through him with overwhelming force. Driven by a need to show his emotions in a far more tangible method, he scooped her off her feet. He moaned at the feel of her warm body cradled against his chest, her skirts spilling over his arm and her unruly curls tickling his chin.

He had barely managed to take a step toward the door, however, when she touched her fingers to his cheek to capture his attention.

“A moment.”

He tilted back his head to glance toward the heavens. “Lord, no.”

“I have one last question.”

“You are deliberately attempting to punish me,” he muttered.

“Why did you not just admit why you wished me to remain at Carrick Park?” she demanded. “You made me believe that you were embarrassed to have me as your wife.”

He heaved a sigh, lowering his head to stab her with an impatient glare.

“Because I had no notion you could be so foolish.”

Her lips flattened in warning. “Gabriel.”

“I did not wish you to believe I was troubled by what society thinks of you, because I am not,” he said in a tight voice. “So far as I am concerned, they can all rot in the deepest pits of hell. But I knew eventually you would want to return to London, and I wished to make certain they could no longer hurt you with their vile tongues. But I did it for you and your comfort. Never because I cared what they might say.”

“Oh.” Her fingers drifted to his lips. “I love you.”

“Thank God.” He cast her a pleading gaze. “Now can we please retire to our chambers?”

Her soft chuckle filled the air. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

Eight months later

THE BALLROOM on the top floor of the Ashcombe’s London townhouse was a long, ivory room with a parquet floor that had been polished until it glowed. There were a dozen gilded half columns that framed the numerous double doors leading into the attached rooms that had been set up for dinner as well as card rooms for those who preferred to avoid the crowded dance floor. And overhead there was a vaulted ceiling with three massive chandeliers that were reflected in the soaring mirrors at each end of the room.

Talia stood on a dais beneath the balcony where the orchestra played a rousing country tune, dancers spinning about her in a dizzying array of brilliant satins and glittering jewels. Talia allowed a smile of pure contentment to curve her lips.

Although she had slowly come to trust Gabriel’s mother as she had escorted Talia from one society event to another, she could not deny her trepidation when the older woman had insisted that she and Gabriel host their own ball.


It did not matter that she had been invited into the most exclusive homes in London over the past weeks. Or even that the frosty receptions had slowly melted to a measure of genuine welcome as she’d lost her reserve and managed to converse without her usual stammering. The fear that no one would bother to attend her first gathering had refused to be dismissed.

Now she realized that she need not have worried.

The townhouse was nearly groaning beneath the weight of the vast crowd, and Vale had recently whispered in her ear that he had been forced to turn away several uninvited guests.

Of course, her obvious triumph as a hostess was not the true reason for her contentment.

Or at least not entirely.

She was certainly vain enough to take pleasure in the sight of the ton filling her home. She beamed in pride as she gazed down her pretty blue satin ball gown with silver trimming about the hem. The low-cut bodice was stitched with rows of pearls that matched the strands of pearls threaded through her dark curls.

But she had far more important matters to fill her heart with joy.

Her smile widened as she recalled Gabriel’s fierce relief upon receiving a note this morning from Harry. His brother was well and currently traveling through India where he had encountered several other English noblemen who were touring the country.

The assurance that his brother had fully recovered and that he was far away from Jacques Gerard and France healed a wound that had plagued Gabriel since their flight from Calais.

But in truth, it was the tiny surprise growing within her that offered the greatest sense of pleasure.

“I hope you are pleased.” Joining her on the dais, Hannah Lansing waved a plump hand toward the twirling couples. “The ball is an undoubted success.”

Talia nodded, her gaze running down Hannah’s white tulle dress that was layered over a lavender underskirt with matching feathers in her hair. The young maiden might not be considered a beauty, but there was a fresh innocence in her round face and a ready humor in her dark eyes.

And of course, there was no mistaking the newfound confidence that only added to her natural attraction.

A confidence that came from being pursued by one of the most sought-after bachelors in all of London.

“It does appear to be well attended,” she agreed.

“Well attended?” Hannah’s chuckle drifted over the near deafening sounds that filled the ballroom. “I have never seen such a mad scramble for invitations. I heard rumors that even the prince refused to leave Carlton House until he was certain he had been included on your guest list.”

“It is quite amazing,” Talia said, recalling her breathless astonishment when the prince had arrived with his current mistress, staying long enough to kiss her hand and speak a few words with Gabriel before he was making his grand exit. “I would never have dreamed it possible only a year ago.”

“Good heavens, no.” Hannah pointed toward the small alcove at the far end of the room. “We both would have been cowering in that shadowed corner.”

“True enough.” Talia gave a small shake of her head, glancing toward Gabriel’s mother, who held court among the matrons, her stately form encased in a rose satin gown and her still-golden hair smoothly knotted at the nape of her neck. “My mother-in-law is a formidable woman. Gabriel promised she would force society to accept me and she has performed nothing less than a miracle.”

Hannah lightly batted her arm with an ivory fan. “I do not doubt that the dowager was responsible for ensuring you received the proper respect for your position as the Countess of Ashcombe, but it is your own efforts that have captivated them,” she said, casting a rueful glance toward the same guests who had once made their lives such a misery. “The pompous fools had no notion that the daughter of a merchant could possess such charm and wit.”

Talia shrugged. A large measure of her bitterness had been thankfully eased by Gabriel’s unwavering love for her.

“Not that I would ever excuse their appalling behavior toward us,” she said, her attention shifting to the tall, golden-haired man who still made her heart leap with excitement. Especially when he was appearing at his finest in a black jacket and gold waistcoat with white knee breeches. Reluctantly she turned her attention back to her companion. “But I was too shy and frightened of others to reveal any charm, and certainly no wit.”

Hannah nodded with an understanding that only the two of them could share. “And now?”

“And now I no longer concern myself with their opinion so I can actually enjoy myself.”

“That much is obvious,” Hannah agreed, studying her with a curious gaze. “You are glowing.”

Talia hesitated. Thus far she had shared her news only with Gabriel, preferring to avoid the avid interest it was bound to stir among the nobles. And then there was her father’s reaction, not to mention Gabriel’s mother…well, she had decided she intended to be far away from London when word leaked out that she was breeding.

Hannah, however, was one of the few people she trusted in the world to keep her secret.

“My glow has nothing to do with society,” she said, laying a meaningful hand over her stomach.

It took only a moment for Hannah to realize what she was implying, and with a small squeal of excitement, she gave Talia a swift hug before arranging her features into a careful mask to avoid attracting unwanted curiosity.

“Have you warned your mother-in-law that her considerable efforts to install you as the leader of London society will be brought to an early end?” she teased.

“Not yet,” Talia confessed. “I am still waiting for Gabriel to recover from his shock. The poor man has been walking about as if he is in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, for the past week.”

“He is pleased, is he not?” Hannah asked in sudden concern.

Talia rolled her eyes. “Outrageously pleased, as well as maddeningly overprotective.” She gave a rueful shake of her head, already sensing her time of confinement was bound to be a battle of wills. Gabriel was of a mind that she should spend the majority of her day lying in bed as if she were an invalid rather than a perfectly healthy mother-to-be with an overabundance of energy. “As soon as I shared my suspicion of my condition, he demanded that we pack our bags and return to Carrick Park. It was only my warning that I would never forgive him for forcing us to miss our own ball that kept him from bundling me in the carriage and leaving that moment.”

Hannah laughed. “So when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Talia shrugged. “And while I have enjoyed being in London, I will not deny it will be a pleasure to return home.”

“I will miss you.”

Talia reached to grab her friend’s hand. “You are always welcome at my home, no matter what you have been told in the past.” Talia glanced toward the man who had so rudely escorted Hannah from Carrick Park months before. Attired in a dark jacket that was molded to his large body and white knee breeches, Hugo leaned against a gilded column, not bothering to hide his unwavering interest in the young woman standing at Talia’s side. “Although I doubt you will be eager to leave London.”

“Oh, I do not know,” Hannah said, a forced airiness in her voice. “It might be fun to spend a few weeks away from the bustle of town.”

“Really, Hannah, how long do you intend to torture the poor man?” Talia demanded, feeling a genuine sympathy for the nobleman who had pursued Hannah with a single-minded devotion.


Hannah’s smile faded as she turned to regard Talia with a somber expression.

“It is not torture,” she said, her eyes shimmering with a yearning that stole Talia’s breath. “I merely need for Hugo to be certain that he will not come to regret his proposal.”

“He could never regret having you as his wife.”

Hannah shook her head. “I appreciate your loyalty, but we both know I have nothing to offer a man such as Lord Rothwell.”

“Do not—”

“Come, Talia,” Hannah interrupted, her expression troubled. “I have no lands, no dowry, not even beauty. What if he grows weary of me?”

Talia squeezed her friend’s hand, knowing with all her heart that Hugo would devote his life to her happiness.

“A man that weds you because of your land or dowry or beauty would quite likely grow weary of you,” she warned. “But a man who weds you because he loves you will always remain true.” Giving a tug with her hand, she urged Hannah off the dais and toward the waiting nobleman. “Now go and join him before Hugo ruins my lovely ball with that dreadful scowl.”

Hannah paused to send her a teasing grin. “What of you?”

Talia’s gaze shifted toward the man who had stolen her heart and given her a life filled with endless promise, her heart forgetting to beat as he flashed her a smile filled with wicked impatience.

“I intend to have a last waltz with my husband before convincing him that no one will miss us if we slip away.”

“Be happy, my friend,” Hannah called, turning to thread her way through the dancers to Hugo’s waiting arms.

“Always,” Talia murmured.