Bride for a Night

“No, Harry—”

“That was not an insult, Gabriel,” his brother interrupted hoarsely. “I have always admired your unwavering integrity, even when it infuriated me. I only hope someday you will be as proud of me as I have always been of you.”

An excruciating pain sliced through his heart.

Did his brother fear he was dying? Was that why he had demanded the opportunity to confess his sin and hand over the secret list?

No. Gabriel gave an unconscious shake of his head.

He would not allow it.

His brother was going to live, by God. Even if he had to follow him to hell and haul him back. “Remain still.”

Gabriel rose to his feet, moving to retrieve the loaded pistol his brother had dropped when he was shot and returned to press it into Harry’s hand before he headed toward the edge of the cliff.

“Gabriel…”

“I will return as swiftly as I am able.”

Not giving Harry an opportunity to argue, Gabriel angled along the edge of the steep precipice, at last stumbling across the path that led down to the muddy shore. His boots were ruined and his jacket torn from the rocks protruding from the side of the cliff, but at last he slid to a halt near the rowboat that was waiting in the shallow water.

“You.” He pointed at one of the two crewmen who were seated in the boat. “Come with me.”

“Aye, my lord.”

With stoic movements that helped to leash the sickening dread spreading through his heart, Gabriel retraced his steps up the path

of the cliff, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to ensure the sailor was close behind.

Everything would be fine, he assured himself. He would collect Harry and they would return to the yacht where the captain would clean and bind his wound. The fool might have a scar to display to his friends, but it would be a small price to pay.

Keeping the thought forefront in his mind, Gabriel reached the top of the cliff and jogged back toward the carriage. The entire trip had taken less than a quarter of an hour, but he was anxious to return to his brother.

He became even more anxious when he arrived at the precise spot where he had left Harry only to discover the carriage, along with his brother, was gone.

What the hell?

“Search the woods for Master Harry,” he directed the puzzled sailor with a wave of his hand.

“Master Harry?”

“I left him here. He was injured.”

“Oh. Aye.”

The young man hurried to obey the sharp command, while Gabriel bent down to inspect the dirt path that led away from the clearing.

He found a faint trace of blood as well as several separate footprints, but there was nothing to indicate a struggle. Not that he had expected to find evidence of a battle.

No. If his brother had been attacked while Gabriel was going for assistance he would have called out. Or at least fired the pistol that Gabriel had left with him.

The most logical explanation for Harry’s disappearance was that he had waited for Gabriel to go for help and then used the carriage to escape.

He had been expertly deceived.

Again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE