Bride for a Night
“I will.” Hugo shifted his gaze toward Harry who stood only a few feet away. “But I am more concerned for you. Do not forget that there is more than one enemy you must guard against.”
Harry took an angry step forward. “Just go check on the damned boat, Rothwell.”
With a last glare at the young man, Hugo turned to make his way down the treacherous path of the cliff, abruptly disappearing from view.
Trusting his friend had not taken a tumble and broken his neck, Gabriel turned back to his companions. Jacques and Sophia remained in the center of the small clearing, but he noted in approval that Talia had shifted to stand near the carriage, wise enough to remain out of the line of fire should the lurking soldiers attack.
How the devil had he ever thought he would be satisfied with a missish society female who would have spent the past few days in screeching hysterics?
With a last lingering glance at the woman who had become a vital part of his life, Gabriel turned back to meet Jacques’s scowl of frustration.
“You promised to release Sophia,” he reminded Gabriel in fiery tones.
“She will be allowed to return to Calais once we are away from the shore.”
Jacques was not appeased. “You will abandon a vulnerable female in the midst of this godforsaken countryside?” His lips twisted as he glanced toward Talia, intentionally reminding Gabriel of his decision to send his young bride to Carrick Park alone. “Ah, of course you will. It does seem to be a habit of yours.”
Annoying ass.
With an effort Gabriel dismissed the taunt. “I do not doubt your soldiers will be delighted to protect her.”
The Frenchman shrugged, not bothering to try to convince Gabriel they were alone.
“If you are so certain they are nearby, then why not allow Sophia to join them now?”
“I would not wish to encourage you to do something stupid.” Gabriel waved his pistol toward the nearby trees. “Her presence ensures your good behavior until we reach my yacht.”
Jacques stretched his lips into a humorless smile. “So I am to be taken to England?”
“You were pleased enough to visit before,” Gabriel mocked.
“So I was,” Jacques admitted. He ignored the fuming female at his side, her countenance warning she would not be left behind. “I presume that I am to be exposed as a French spy?”
“That is a decision to be made by a higher authority than me.”
“And your brother?”
Gabriel tensed, refusing to be distracted by the agonizing choices that awaited him once they returned to England.
“Harry is no longer your concern,” he snarled.
“Are you so certain?” Jacques arched a sardonic brow. “I would say his fate is very much in my hands.”
There was no mistaking the threat in his tone, and narrowing his gaze, Gabriel marched forward to grasp the man by his arm, yanking him across the uneven ground. He came to a halt on the opposite side of the carriage, far enough from the others to prevent their conversation from being overheard.
“What are you implying?”
Pulling from his grasp, Jacques smoothed a hand down his wrinkled jacket and tugged a lace cuff back into place. Gabriel clenched his teeth, barely preventing himself from smashing a fist into the sneering face.
“Once I have been turned over to the English authorities I am bound to be put to the Inquisition,” Jacques said smoothly.
“And?”
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“And I can scarcely be expected to keep your brother’s priceless assistance in stealing information from the Home Office a secret. The poor boy will be forever ruined, if not put to death as a traitor.”
Jacques merely repeated what had been going through Gabriel’s mind since learning of Harry’s betrayal. But hearing it announced so bluntly was like a physical blow.