Bride for a Night

Odd to consider after all the years she had assumed those annoyingly fashionable debutantes were never plagued by painful doubts.

“He loves you if only he were not too stubborn to accept his feelings,” she assured her companion.

Unexpectedly Sophia sucked in a sharp breath. “Do not say such a thing, s’il vous plait.”

Talia blinked in confusion at the woman’s fierce response. “Why not? You have just pointed out that he proved that he cares for you.”

The woman pitched her voice low enough to ensure it would not carry through the shadowed tunnel.

“I will agree he holds an affection for me,” she grudgingly confessed. “And, of course, the thought that I was in danger would have stirred his protective instincts, but I would never be idiotic enough to believe he could offer more.”

Talia reached to give the woman’s arm a comforting squeeze, recalling her own misery when Gabriel had sent her to Carrick Park. She had been quite convinced at the time that she was destined to spend her life alone and unloved.

Now…

She swallowed a sigh. Now she was not quite so certain of her future.

“It is not idiotic to hope,” she murmured softly.

“Almost you tempt me,” Sophia said with a sigh. Then, turning her head, she studied Talia with a somber expression. “Talia.”

“Yes?”

“Do not doubt that had our positions been reversed, I should not hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Talia nearly stumbled over the bottom step at the blunt confession.

“I shall keep that in mind.”

KEEPING THE PISTOL aimed at the Frenchman walking

at his side, Gabriel kept a close watch on the two females a few steps ahead of them. They whispered together as if they were old friends, but he was not as trusting as Talia. Sophia was not the typical society maiden content to demurely depend upon a gentleman’s offer of protection. He did not doubt that beneath her fragile beauty she was as dangerous as any cutthroat.

Thankfully she made no effort to attack Talia, and as they reached the end of the passageway, Gabriel shifted his concern to the closed door that blocked their path. He was not going to charge into the cellars without being assured there were no nasty surprises awaiting them.

With his current streak of luck, he might very well discover Napoleon and the entire French army filling the cellars.

Shoving Jacques forward to overtake the two females, he reached out to grasp Talia’s arm and tugged her to a halt.

“Wait, Talia,” he commanded, blowing out her candle to plunge them in blackness.

She readily stepped aside as he slowly pushed open the door, his pistol pointed into the darkness beyond.

“Hugo?” he called softly, the musty scent of aged barrels and damp stone wafting through the air.

There was a faint scrape and then light bloomed in the darkness as Hugo lit a candle and crossed to peer out the door. His golden gaze narrowed at the sight of Jacques and Sophia standing in the tunnel.

“You did not warn me you intended to bring guests.”

Harry stepped forward, his expression sulky as he regarded the Frenchman who had once been his partner.

“Gabriel, what the devil are you doing with this bastard? We need to get away from here.”

Jacques laughed with mocking amusement at the younger man’s obvious discomfort.

“Turning traitor yet again, eh, Harry?”

“I am merely attempting to right a wrong,” Harry said in sullen tones. “Or at least to right one of many wrongs. I can never fully repay the damage I have caused.”