It would be a simple matter to close his eyes and allow his exhaustion to pull him into slumber. He could not even recall how long it had been since he had been able to claim more than a snatched hour or two of uneasy rest.
In truth, he had not enjoyed a full night of uninterrupted sleep since he had sent Talia away from London.
But, while he was satisfied that they truly had escaped from the clutches of Jacques Gerard and that they would soon be safely tucked at Carrick Park, he found it impossible to take his gaze from Talia.
It was not just her tousled beauty that was bathed in the sunlight that peeked through the porthole, although the sight of her dark, glossy curls tumbled over the pillow and her pale face flushed with lingering pleasure was enough to inspire poets. No, it was more the unshakable, if irrational, fear that she might disappear from his arms the moment he closed his eyes.
His arms tightened around her warm curves and tugged the cover over their entwined bodies. Talia wiggled onto her side, studying him with a searching gaze.
“What is troubling you?”
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “What could be troubling me?”
She wrinkled her nose at his evasive response, no doubt sensing his reluctance to discuss his odd apprehension. But rather than snuggling against his chest and falling asleep as he had hoped, she continued to regard him with that all too knowing gaze.
“What are your plans for when we return to England?”
He allowed his hand to smooth down the arch of her back. If he could not coax her to sleep, then perhaps he could find another means to distract her.
“Do you wish me to describe them in detail?”
She trembled in ready response, but pressing a hand to his chest, she refused to be diverted. Stubborn
wench.
“I mean in regard to your brother.”
Knowing when to accept defeat, Gabriel rolled onto his back and stared at the open beams above his head.
“I cannot keep Harry’s betrayal from the King or his council within the Home Office,” he admitted.
He felt her stiffen at his side. “But…”
“It is not to punish my brother, Talia,” he said, overriding her predictable protest. Once he had accepted that Harry had disappeared with no intent of returning to England, Gabriel had made his decision. The only decision possible. “But while I pray that he has truly learned his lesson, I cannot risk the lives of British soldiers while Harry is still capable of causing harm.”
Her hand brushed over his chest to lie against his heart, as if unconsciously attempting to ease his concern.
“I am sorry.”
He turned to press his face into her unruly curls, breathing in the sweet scent of lilac and warm woman. Who could have ever predicted he would not only put aside years of inexorable control to share his feelings with his wife, but that he would actually seek her comfort?
Astonishing.
“It was inevitable that I would be forced to reveal Harry’s relationship with Jacques Gerard,” he admitted, his voice revealing his painful regret, “but I have hopes that his treachery will be kept a closely guarded secret.”
“I do not understand. I thought you were convinced he must stand trial.”
“That was my original thought. However, I believe Harry has offered me the means to ensure the prime minister will do whatever necessary to prevent word of the betrayal from becoming common knowledge.”
She shifted so she could study him with a suspicious frown. “What means?”
His lips twitched as he sat upright and reached for his jacket at the end of the bunk. Did she fear he had some nefarious plot in mind?
Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Gabriel pulled out the piece of parchment he had hidden. Then, leaning back, he handed it to Talia. “This.”
He hid a smile as she carefully tucked the blanket over her lovely body, as if he had not already memorized every delectable inch of her satin skin, before she unfolded the parchment to study the list.
She at last lifted her head with a puzzled frown. “I have been introduced to several of these gentlemen, but I do not recall them being particular friends of Harry. Why would they assist him?”