Bride for a Night

He could do nothing to help Talia until he managed to escape. Or better yet, to convince Jacques to release him.

“Even without our return to England, you cannot hope to return Harry to London as your spy,” he said with the unwavering confidence that he used when arguing a bill before the House of Lords.

It was amazing what could be accomplished with sheer audacity.

Jacques shrugged. “They have no reason to suspect your brother as anything more than a cad who left his bride at the altar and then disappeared with her dowry.” Jacques squared his shoulders, a disturbingly grim expression replacing his mocking smile. “Still, his current state of disgrace might impede his ability to move without restraint among society, which is why I intend to ensure that no door will be closed to him.”

“And how do you intend to accomplish such a feat?”

A prickling tension filled the vast library before Jacques met Gabriel’s searching gaze with a defiant tilt of his chin.

“I intend to make him the Earl of Ashcombe,” he said. “No one will dare snub him once he stands in your shoes.”

Gabriel tensed, disbelief slamming into him.

Holy hell, he was an idiot.

He had been prepared for Jacques to hold him hostage. And even for the predictable demands for money to ensure his release. It was what any nobleman could expect after being captured by the enemy.

But he had never truly considered he would be sacrificed so Harry could return to London as the Earl of Ashcombe.

Now he struggled to accept Jacques’s bloodthirsty plot.

“You intend to murder me?”

“War is a brutal affair. Sacrifices must be made.” Jacques glanced toward Hugo, who remained unconscious on the sofa. “A pity really. The two of you would have brought a fine ransom.”

Gabriel’s disbelief was forgotten as a flare of panic seared through him. It was one thing for his life to be threatened, it was quite another to watch in frustration as his friend lay helpless and unable to protect himself.

“And Talia?” he rasped. “Will she be a brutal sacrifice as well?”

“Non,” Jacques snapped, appearing ridiculously offended by the question. “She will not be harmed, although she will not be allowed to leave France.” Regaining command of his composure, the Frenchman managed a faint smile. “In time she will not wish to.”

His fury remained potent at the knowledge Talia was being held captive, but Jacques’s taunt went wide of the mark.

The tantalizing memory of Talia wrapped in his arms, her sweet cries of pleasure filling the air as she’d responded to him without reservation assured him that she had given him more than the plea

sure of her body.

She had given him her trust and her loyalty.

Two gifts that were more precious than any amount of treasure.

“Your conceit is as bloated as it is misplaced,” he warned in cold derision. “No matter how undeserving I might be of Talia, she is a woman of utter devotion. She will never forgive the man who murdered her husband.”

Jacques smoothed a hand over his elegantly tied cravat, a large diamond glittering from the ring on his slender finger.

“I can be quite persuasive when I choose.” He spoke with the confidence of a man accustomed to success among the opposite sex. “And surely you would wish her to be happy?”

Gabriel curled his upper lip in disgust. “What I wish is for you to rot in hell.”

Jacques waved a dismissive hand. “My inevitable fate, no doubt, but not before I have led France into her glorious future.”

“Using my brother as your pawn?”

“Precisely.” The Frenchman dipped his head in agreement. “He shall make quite a dashing Earl of Ashcombe, do you not think? And with his position in the House of Lords, he will have access to the most closely guarded secrets of the British Empire. I predict our partnership will be excessively profitable for both of us.”

Gabriel’s blood ran cold.