A muscle knotted in his jaw at her soft words. “He is not here.”
She blinked in confusion. “I do not understand.”
“He is not aboard the yacht.”
“But…” She was struck by an agonizing thought. “Good heavens he is not…”
“No.” Gabriel swiftly alleviated her alarm. “His wound was not fatal.”
She released a relieved breath, but her wariness remained. Gabriel was clearly troubled, and she was certain that it was due to his brother.
“Tell me what happened,” she urged.
With a sigh he lowered his arms and took a step backward. Talia shivered at the loss of his warmth, unnerved by just how desperately she missed the pleasure of being snuggled against his chest.
When had she allowed herself to become dependent upon his touch?
Thankfully oblivious to her dangerous thoughts, Gabriel shoved a hand through his hair, his silver eyes shimmering with a savage emotion that smoldered just beneath his brittle composure.
“When the soldiers attacked, Harry leaped in front of me.”
“Harry?” Caught by surprise, Talia was unable to disguise her shock. “He leaped in front of you?”
His lips twisted. “You are no more shocked than I was by his sudden display of courage. He has never before considered anyone beyond himself.”
“Perhaps he has truly matured,” Talia suggested, more hopeful than convinced. Harry Richardson had been a selfish scoundrel for so long it was difficult to imagine he was capable of changing. Still, miracles occurred every day. “He did, after all, help us to escape.”
Gabriel grimaced. “Perhaps, but his sudden maturity could not have occurred at a worse moment.”
She frowned in confusion. Surely Gabriel wished for his brother to mature into an honorable man? Then she realized the source of his distress.
“When he leaped in front of you he was injured?”
“Yes.” His voice was tight with guilt. “That bullet was intended for me.”
“Do not say that,” she said, horrif
ied.
“It is the truth, but Harry was moving before I could stop him.” His hands clenched at his sides, and Talia was certain that he was already attempting to punish himself for Harry’s injury. “Before I knew what was happening I heard a shot and he was falling to the ground bleeding.”
Talia parted her lips to assure her husband that it was not his fault, only to bite back the words. Why bother? Gabriel could no more alter his habit of assuming responsibility for those he cared about than she could curb her need to reassure him.
“Where was he hit?” she instead demanded.
He shrugged. “I assumed his upper chest, although he refused to allow me to inspect the wound.”
“Refused?” It was difficult to imagine Harry not taking full advantage of his role as the wounded hero. “Why would he refuse?”
“My hope is that he wished to disguise the fact that he was not injured as severely as I feared.”
“Surely not.” Her brows snapped together. “He must have known you were frantic with worry. Not even Harry could be so cruel.”
He smiled at her outrage. “I do not believe he was attempting to be cruel on this occasion, but if I had known he was capable of walking I would have insisted that he accompany me down the cliff rather than leave him alone while I went for assistance.”
“Oh.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Jacques?”
“No, the Frenchman and his guards had already fled before my crew arrived,” he said in soothing tones, although his expression remained hard with frustration. “Which was why I did not hesitate to leave Harry on his own. It never occurred to me that he would use the opportunity to escape.”