Bride for a Night(112)

Hugo pushed away from the side table, his brows lowered with irritation.

“You have not even heard my suggestion.”

“There is no need,” Gabriel assured his companion. “I am well enough acquainted with you to know you are about to make some ridiculous offer to distract the guards while I rescue Talia and escape to my yacht.”

Hugo squared his shoulders, preparing for a fight. “It is the only logical plan.”

Knowing it would be pointless to convince the man it was too risky, Gabriel instead heaved a deep sigh.

“Really, Hugo, martyrs are so tediously boring.”

“Not a martyr, a gambler,” he argued, his chin set to an aggressive angle. “Once you have escaped, the odds are in my favor that the soldiers will charge in pursuit of you and I shall be able to stroll away unnoticed. In truth, I will be in less danger than you.”

“No.” Gabriel once again shook his head. “If anyone is to offer the distraction, it will be me. It is my fault you were captured.”

“I make my own decisions, Ashcombe,” Hugo growled. “And if anyone is to be held to blame it is your brother.”

“You would, of course, assume I am guilty,” an unexpected male voice drawled from behind them. “You never did like me, did you, Rothwell?”

Gabriel whirled on his heel. His brother was standing in a hidden doorway revealed by a narrow portion of the bookshelf that had just swung inward.

For an explosive moment Gabriel stared at Harry in disbelief, half expecting the sight of the slender young man with tousled brown hair and pugnacious expression to be a figment of his imagination.

Hugo charged past Gabriel in a gust of fury, clearly intent on pummeling the man he held fully responsible for their current troubles.

“You bastard.”

Not allowing himself the opportunity to consider the insanity of stepping in front of the large nobleman intent on murder, Gabriel wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest and struggled to bring him to a halt.

“Wait, Hugo,” he ground out, his muscles straining at the effort of keeping the man from escaping.

“Why?” Hugo demanded between clenched teeth. “He deserves to be skinned alive, like those damned natives do in the colonies.”

“I need to speak with him before you do any permanent harm.”

“Fine.”

Muttering his opinion of craven rats who should be shot on sight, Hugo stepped back, although the tension in his large body warned it would take little provocation to shatter his control.

Gabriel turned back toward Harry, grimly hoping he was not making a mistake in bringing a swift end to the reunion      .

“What the hell are you doing sneaking up on us?”


Harry shrugged. “I would think that it was obvious. I did not want Jacques or his guards to know I have returned to the house.”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “How did you know about the hidden doorway?”

“I have had a fortnight to explore the house while waiting to hear from Jacques.” Harry glanced over his shoulder at the dark emptiness that stretched behind him. “I stumbled across the secret tunnel a few days ago. I assume the previous owner dabbled in smuggling.”

It was a reasonable assumption. Calais had long been the primary port for smuggled goods from England. There was, no doubt, any number of homes built with hidden tunnels.

Hugo snorted. “Why am I not surprised you would have found a means to sneak about?”

Harry stepped out of the tunnel, regarding Hugo with a mocking smile.