Bride for a Night

“Jacques will soon discover we have escaped,” she protested. “The guards will be searching for us.”

He tucked a curl behind her ear, his thumb brushing the bruises beneath her eyes.

“There is a vast amount of land between Jacques’s lair and England,” he assured her. “So long as we do not collapse in the middle of the road from exhaustion, we should be safe enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Must you always have your own way?”

“Of course, I am an earl,” he said with a playful arrogance that brought a welcome flush of color to her cheeks. “It is my destiny to have my own way. Besides which, I am always right, so why should I not insist on others bowing to my—”

She slapped a hand across his mouth, her eyes narrowed. “If you continue on I fear I will be vilely ill.”

Grasping her hand, he pressed her fingers to his lips before stepping back.

“Rest here. I will return in a moment.”

She bit her lip, obvious concern shimmering in her eyes. “Gabriel.”

“Be at ease,” he soothed, “I only intend to make sure there is no one near. I will soon return.”

“Unless you are shot.”

“You will not be rid of me that easily, my dear.” His faint smile faded as he regarded her somberly. “Do not move from this spot, do you understand?”

She waved a limp hand. “I am too weary to disobey you, my lord.”

“Good. Perhaps God does answer prayers,” he muttered, turning on his heel to head across the damp meadow.

Giving the burnt cottage a cursory inspection, Gabriel shifted his attention to the detached stone barn with a red tile roof that had received only minimum damage from the fire. He pulled open the wide wooden door, cautiously searching through the two-storied structure before moving on to the remaining outbuildings and the surrounding grounds.

Only when he was certain there were no hidden dangers did he return to Talia, his lips thinning at the sight of her seated on the ground, her head bowed in weariness.

Dammit, he was her husband.

She should never have been exposed to such danger. Or have been forced to endure such harsh conditions.

It was untenable.

In the future he would make certain she did not take a step outside the door unless he was firmly at her side.

Dismissing Talia’s inevitable outrage at his restriction, Gabriel leaned down to scoop her into his arms, his determination hardening at the feel of her tiny body cradled against his chest. Despite her delectable curves, she was as light as a feather.

Clearly he would also have to supervise her meals from now on, he decided. He would not have it said he refused to feed his own wife.

Her eyes fluttered open as he carried her across the field.

“What are you doing?”

“It is time you were tucked in bed.”

“Oh, it is evil of you to tease me,” she complained, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I would give anything to be in the comfort of my bed.”

His lips twisted, knowing whatever she would be willing to give was nothing in comparison to what he would sacrifice for the opportunity to join her in the comforts of her bed.

He had wanted her for so long it had become a perpetual ache.

With an effort, he managed a strained smile. “A proper wife would claim she was content so long as she was at her husband’s side.”

“Well, bully for the proper wife,” she countered, although she readily nestled her head against his shoulder. “I want a soft mattress and a feather pillow and linen sheets.”