Bride for a Night

An unexpected blush touched her cheeks at his low words, her lashes lowering to hide her expressive eyes.

“Why do you believe Lord Rothwell will not be welcoming?” she demanded. “Does he disapprove of my lack of noble blood?”

Gabriel swallowed a sigh, wishing that he could trust his friend to behave himself so he did not have to have this uncomfortable conversation. It was bound to remind her of his own prejudices when they wed.

Unfortunately, he did not doubt for a moment that Hugo would make very clear that Talia was aware of his disapproval.

“He was offended by our hasty wedding,” he reluctantly admitted.

He felt her stiffen beneath his hand. “And by the fact my father blackmailed you into taking me as your bride?”

“It did not improve his opinion.”

There was a moment of silence before she heaved a sigh. “I do not hold him to blame. It is an opinion shared by most of society, no doubt.”

“Do not fear.” He lifted a shoulder. “Once Hugo comes to know you, he will swiftly conclude that you are far too good for me.”

She shook her head at his deliberately light words. “Highly unlikely.”

“Trust me.”

“And the rest of society?” she asked.

“It is quite possible my choice of bride will be the last concern of society,” he reminded her, his senses suddenly tingling with alarm.

He ground to a halt, hurriedly studying their surroundings. A hint of dusk was just beginning to brush the sky, adding violet hues to the fog steadily creeping through the trees. In the distance the sound of small animals could be heard scampering through the thick vegetation, but closer to hand there was nothing but silence.

Something or someone was near.

“Talia, do not move,” he warned, fiercely regretting he had not taken the time to find a weapon to replace those taken by Jacques Gerard.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He deliberately stepped in front of the horse, prepared to send the beast bolting if necessary.

“Show yourself,” he commanded in loud tones.

There was a rustle behind a nearby tree, then with a smooth motion an impressively large man with ruffled brown hair and a mocking smile stepped onto the path.

“Your instincts are growing slow with your old age, Ashcombe.” Hugo made a show of returning his dueling pistol to the pocket of his dark cloak he had pulled over his pale green jacket and gray breeches. “I could have used you for target practice.”

Gabriel felt a flood of relief at the sight of his friend, although his expression was chiding as he met the steady golden gaze.

“And your advanced years have utterly destroyed your hearing,” he countered. “I commanded you to return to England.”

Hugo shrugged. “I never doubted you would outwit a handful of French coxcombs.”

“Actually it was Talia who managed our escape,” he corrected, turning back toward his silent companion and plucking her out of the saddle. He barely allowed her feet to touch the muddy path before he had her tucked against his side. “She has proven to be amazingly resourceful.”

Hugo’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gabriel’s protective manner. “Yes, I can imagine.”

Gabriel’s expression hardened with warning. “Hugo.”

Talia cleared her throat as the two men glared at one another.

“Is the yacht nearby?”

“Just beyond the trees,” Hugo answered grudgingly, his gaze never leaving Gabriel.