Bride for a Night

Hugo remained unimpressed. “That does not mean they will not eagerly shoot an intruder.”

“Only if they realize there is an intruder,” Gabriel countered, shrugging aside his friend’s concern. He did not care if Napoleon and his entire army made a sudden appearance. Nothing was going to prevent him from retrieving his wife. “If you will recall, I managed to slip beneath the nose of our headmaster for years without being caught.”

Sensing Gabriel’s determination, Hugo muttered a vile curse. “I do not like this.”

“Neither do I, but there is no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Hugo argued. “As you have pointed out with revolting frequency, Talia is now the Countess of Ashcombe. All we need do is to locate the closest British troops and they will…”

“I have no intention of leaving my wife in the hands of the enemy another night and certainly not the days, or even weeks, it would take to gather an army,” Gabriel ground out. “Besides, I will not risk Talia in the midst of a battle. We both know it is often the innocents who are injured in the heat of war.”

“If she is innocent…”

“Enough,” Gabriel snapped.

Hugo made a sound of impatience. “Would you listen to me, Ashcombe?” he rasped. “You have only the word of two traitors that she was taken against her will. What if you manage to approach her without being caught and she refuses to leave with you?” He paused. “Or worse, what if she reveals your presence to the French?”

Gabriel gritted his teeth, refusing to admit that Hugo’s accusations struck a nerve.

In the back of his mind, however, a treacherous voice reminded him that he had sent a young, beautiful woman into the isolated countryside without so much as a companion to keep her occupied. Would it be so astonishing that she would turn to a handsome and charming vicar to ease her loneliness? Or even to fulfill the needs of her body that he had stirred to life on their wedding night?

Of course, it was the same voice that had convinced him that Talia had been as guilty as her father in trapping him in an unwanted marriage and was responsible for this mess to begin with.

For a gentleman who prided himself on his ability to confront any situation with a logic untainted by emotions, he behaved as if he were as witless as those dandies littering the London ballrooms.

The knowledge was as annoying as it was inexplicable.

“Return to the ship and ensure it is prepared to leave the moment I arrive with Talia,” he commanded, his sharp tone warning he would endure no argument.

Hugo’s jaw tightened, but he gave a reluctant nod.

“Very well.”

“And, Hugo?”

His friend frowned. “Yes?”

“If I have not arrived by dawn tomorrow you are to return to England without me.”

“No.”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “You gave your word you would follow my orders when I allowed you to accompany me.”

Hugo tossed his hands in the air, clearly at the end of his patience.

“I begin to wonder if marriage has softened your brain.”

Gabriel’s lips twisted. “I must admit that I wonder, as well.”

Hugo headed toward the nearby trees. “Do not miss the ship.”

“I shall do my best.”

TALIA’S PRIVATE CHAMBERS were as magnificent as the rest of the palace.

The walls were covered by a pale green that matched the velvet curtains and the green-and-gold striped satin on the furnishings. A large fireplace made of white marble veined with black dominated one wall with a vast mirror framed in a profusion of gilt hanging over the mantel.

On the opposite wall a row of arched windows overlooked the sunken garden and the distant lake. While overhead a heavy crystal chandelier spilled a golden glow over the canopy bed set in the center of the room.