Bride for a Night

He shrugged. “Once I have captured Ashcombe, then his brother can return to London and seek out a new spy in the Home Office.”

“The British government is already aware they have traitors in their midst.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling chilled despite the warm summer breeze blowing through the open window. “If Harry makes a sudden reappearance in London without his distinguished brother, do you not think it will be suspicious?”

“We will devise a believable story that will divert attention long enough to acquire the information we need so France will be victorious.”

She shook her head. “No, it is too late. Lord Ashcombe escaped hours ago.” She did not say the name that hung between the two of them—Talia—or the fact that Jacques’s determination to capture the prisoners had more to do with his frantic need to rescue Lady Ashcombe than to return Harry to London. It was like a barrier that rose between them. “You cannot possibly catch him now.”

“I will not have to catch him. I intend to be waiting for him.” His gaze flicked over her tense expression. “And you made it possible, ma belle.”

Sophia frowned in wary confusion. “Comment?”

“I am willing to wager that beyond revealing young Harry’s role as my cohort, you also shared the fact that he is currently residing in Calais,” he drawled.

She forced herself to meet his gaze with a proud indifference that masked her churning emotions.

“So what if I did?”

“The honorable Earl of Ashcombe will not be able to resist the compulsion to track down his brother and attempt to salvage his soul from the evil French,” he said and sneered.

“Lord Ashcombe is not stupid,” she protested. “I believe we all know that Harry Richardson is beyond salvation.”

“Then he will wish to wring his worthless neck,” Jacques said, offering her a shallow bow before heading toward the door. “In either event he will not leave France without finding his brother. When he does, he shall once again be my prisoner.”

Standing in the center of her bedchamber, Sophia allowed scalding tears to track down her cheeks for the first time in thirty years.

TALIA WAS UNCERTAIN how long she lay entangled in Gabriel’s arms, and in truth she did not try to keep track. It was enough to float in the sweet glow of contentment as the storm overhead faded in fury and at last passed.

She should perhaps regret giving herself with such eagerness to Gabriel, she acknowledged with a sigh. He had, after all, proven to be a miserable husband who had insulted her, abandoned her and overall treated her with a shocking lack of respect.

And she was far from forgiving him.

But in truth, she was too content

to stir up the necessary remorse.

It was not the fact he had rushed to France in an attempt to save her, she hastily assured herself. Or that he had done everything in his power to see to her comfort despite their rough surroundings.

She was not so weak as to be swayed into believing this man had genuine concern for her. Such thoughts could only lead to disappointment. And God knew, she had endured enough disappointment for a lifetime.

But she was female enough to appreciate the touch of a skilled lover. And since she was expected to share the bed of her husband regardless of her own feelings, why not enjoy what he offered?

All very logical until his clever fingers brushed along the curve of her waist, sending a jolt of anticipation shivering through her body.

Meeting his silver gaze, Talia felt more than mere desire stirring deep within her. The dangerous warmth spoke of emotions that were best destroyed before they could break her heart.

“The rain has stopped,” she struggled to choke out.

He chuckled softly, his hand boldly cupping her breast and allowing his thumb to tease at her sensitive nipple.

“Has it?”

She shifted her gaze to the shuttered windows, attempting to ignore the pleasure coiling through the pit of her stomach at each stroke of his thumb.

“Yes.” She swallowed a low moan, lowering her eyes to meet his smoldering gaze. “Should we not be leaving?”

A stark, haunting pain rippled over his beautiful features before he was determinedly lowering his head to nuzzle a line of kisses along her collarbone.

“No doubt we should,” he murmured, his breath sending prickles of pleasure over the upper curve of her breast.