Bride for a Night

“If you will not order the captain to stop this nonsense, then I will.”

“He will not listen.”

She stiffened her spine. “I am the Countess of Ashcombe, I will make him listen.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded her with an odd intensity. Almost as if he had never seen her before.

“You may be the countess, but the servants will not disobey Gabriel.”

Her lips thinned at the absolute certainty in his voice. She did not doubt for a moment that he spoke the truth. After all, he was obviously well acquainted with the crew.

“Typical,” she snapped. “I knew a title would prove to be as worthless as it was pretentious.”

“If that was true you would never have trapped my friend into marriage.”

“I had nothing to do with—” She bit off her words in frustration, slapping away his hand so she could bend down to tug off her boots. “Believe what you will. There is no time.”

She heard him mutter a curse as she tossed aside the boots and reached beneath her skirt to pull off her stockings. Her father had insisted that she learn to swim at an early age. She was certain she had not forgotten how.

What she intended to do after she reached the shore without shoes or stockings was something she would decide once she was there.

“Wait,” Lord Rothwell growled. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Lifting her head she allowed him to see the staunch determination etched on her face.

“I will not allow Gabriel to travel to Calais alone,” she stormed.

He swore, glancing toward the shore that was becoming ever more distant.

“Is he in danger?”

“Perhaps not physical danger,” she admitted, “but he will have need of me.”

He returned his attention to her, his golden gaze sweeping over her pale face.

“You intend to swim back to shore?”

“If necessary.”

He stood utterly motionless, clearly torn between his pledge to Gabriel and his instincts to rush to the rescue.

At last, he gave a shake of his head and swept past Talia with a fierce sense of purpose.

“Captain…”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LIKE MANY HARBOR TOWNS Calais had endured its share of invasions.

Julius Caesar had occupied the city to launch his invasion of England. The British King Edward III had laid siege for nearly a year in 1346, starving the city into surrender. And the Spanish had claimed ownership in the late 1500s. But while each conquest had left its mark, the city remained a simple fishing village at heart, with its own unique charm.

Confined within its yellowed walls, the town faced the waiting sea with a vast pier lined with fishing boats and a heavy fortress complete with a drawbridge.

Gabriel moved through the narrow streets, past the Place d’Armes in the center of town, barely noting the black watchtower, or the old town hall as he studied the small houses with their white shutters and the occasional cafés that were filled with French soldiers. The night air was filled with distant chimes and the sound of laughter, the moonlight illuminating the stone archway as he turned onto the Rue de Guise.

It was all very quaint, but hardly the sort of peaceful setting to attract his brother. He needed to discover the less savory part of town.

Almost on cue a ragged street urchin darted from the shadows, clearly intent on picking his pocket. With ease, Gabriel grabbed the boy, who could not have been more than twelve, by the collar of his woolen coat, lifting him off his feet so they were eye to eye.