Bride for a Night

“What the devil was she thinking?”

“Perhaps she desired to visit the shops,” his friend suggested. “Females are oddly drawn to pretty gowns.”

Gabriel snorted. “Not Talia. She has no interest in fashion.”

“Then perhaps she wished to spend some time with her father.” Hugo grimaced. “As much as we might detest the bastard, he is her only family.”

“I am her family now and if that bastard dares to step a foot into this house I will have him transported to the colonies.”

“Do you intend to have me transported as well, Gabriel?”

The cold female voice had both men spinning toward the doorway.

Gabriel’s heart gave a leap at the sight of his wife in a pretty sprigged muslin gown that hugged her soft curves. Her dark hair was piled atop her head with a few curls left to brush her temple. A simple strand of pearls was draped around her neck.

She looked as fresh and inviting as a spring day.

Then he registered her furious gaze, and his pleasure was forgotten. Not only had she ignored his request to remain at Carrick Park, now she had overheard his insensitive words.

Damnation.

It truly was a rotten day.

Stepping forward, he held out his hand. “Do not be ridiculous, Talia.”

“Why not?” Her green eyes smoldered beneath a layer of ice. “It would be the perfect solution to be rid of your unwanted wife.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TALIA PRESSED a hand to her heart, startled to discover she was not bleeding from the wound Gabriel had just delivered.

Certainly it felt as if he had stabbed a dagger to the center of her chest.

She had been a fool.

When she had left for London she had tried to convince herself that the past few days of separation would have proven to her husband that he needed her as more than just a warm body in his bed. And that once they were reunited he would have to put the past behind them and build a new relationship.

But hearing his harsh condemnation of Silas Dobson had effectively crushed her fragile hope.

He clearly had not forgiven her father for forcing him into an unwanted marriage, and if Silas Dobson was unfit to cross the threshold of Gabriel’s precious townhouse, then what did it say of her own welcome?

Ignoring his outstretched hand, she allowed her gaze to skim over his lean form attired in a gold jacket and sage-green waistcoat. He looked tired. Perhaps his nights had been as restless as hers.

But then, that would mean he actually cared. And that was obviously a silly fantasy.

Cursing the fresh stab of pain, Talia jerked her attention toward Hugo, who moved forward to grasp her hand and raise it to his lips.

“Ah, a delight to see you again, my lady,” Lord Rothwell murmured, the concern in his golden eyes nearly making her cry.

“Not a delight for everyone, it would seem,” she muttered.

Rothwell’s lips parted, but before he could speak Gabriel had reached to grasp his arm and pull him away from Talia.

“Hugo, if you will excuse us?”

“Do try not to be an ass, Ashcombe,” Lord Rothwell drawled, offering Talia a last smile. “Until later.”

Talia watched him stroll from the room, closing the door firmly behind his large form.