Bride for a Night

Jacques hissed his opinion of arrogant English noblemen through clenched teeth.

“You will hold a helpless female as a hostage?” he demanded.

“We both know that females are rarely helpless and I will not allow her to alert the guards,” Gabriel countered. “She will not be harmed so long as you do as I say.”

“And precisely what do you intend to do with us?”

A cold, lethal smile curved Gabriel’s lips. “That entirely depends on you, Monsieur Gerard.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

TALIA FROWNED AS Gabriel removed his arm from her shoulders and gently tugged the pistol from her grip, tucking the large dagger beneath his jacket. All she desired was to escape from the townhouse and return to the waiting yacht, but she sensed that it would not be as simple as walking out the door.

“Gabriel?” she murmured, not doubting for a moment he already had a plan to escape.

As expected, he offered a confident smile. “We will need a candle, my dear.”

“Yes.”

She grabbed a burning candle from the mantel, relieved that her shivering was beginning to lessen and that her knees were no longer threatening to buckle.

Gabriel dipped a head toward the silent Frenchwoman who held herself proudly.

“Now if you will kindly lead Sophia into the passageway, Jacques and I will be close behind you.”

Without prompting, Sophia moved to enter the dark tunnel, and Talia hurried to walk at her side. She was in no mood to have to chase down the unpredictable woman if she decided to bolt.

Behind her, Talia heard the sound of male footsteps and she paused, the flicker of the candlelight dancing over the stone walls that were shrouded in dust and the low wooden-beamed ceiling.

“Which way?” she demanded.

“To the right,” Gabriel directed. “You will see a set of stairs just beyond the corner. They lead to the cellars.”

Following his directions, Talia walked beside Sophia, pretending she did not hear the faint scuttle of mice. Surely a few small rodents were the least of her concerns?

“I am sorry, but I could not allow him to kill Gabriel,” she said as they reached the stairs, needing to distract herself from her raw nerves.

The older woman lifted the hem of her thin robe as she cautiously navigated the narrow steps.

“Would you have pulled the trigger?”

Talia grimaced. Although she refused to regret doing what was necessary to keep Gabriel alive, it was not a question she desired to ponder.

Not when it made her wonder if she had inherited more of her father’s merciless nature than she had realized.

“In all honesty, I do not know,” she muttered.

There was an awkward pause before Sophia gently cleared her throat.

“I suppose I should be offering you my appreciation.”

“Appreciation?”

The Frenchwoman smiled wryly. “I would never have dared to believe Jacques would choose me over his loyalty to France.” She sliced a glance toward Talia. “Or his desire for you.”

Talia shook her head, unable to believe a woman of Sophia’s sophistication was not readily aware of Jacques’s devotion. She was precisely the sort of woman that must have had dozens of men worshipping her pretty feet over the years.

But perhaps even beautiful women could be insecure when their heart was involved, she realized with a flare of surprise.