Bride for a Night(117)

Not that his arrival had gone entirely unnoticed, she realized as she checked her startled reaction.

Returning her attention to Jacques, her heart missed a terrified beat at the sight of his suspicious expression.

“Talia?” He frowned down at her pale face. “What is wrong?”

Sensing he would not be satisfied by a simple denial of her startled reaction, she deliberately swayed, pressing a hand to her head.

“Oh.”

“Tell me, ma petite. Has something frightened you?”

“No. I…I suddenly feel dizzy.”

Her ploy appeared to be successful as Jacques swiftly grasped her arms and steered her toward the bed with tender care.

“Sit down,” he murmured, pressing her arms until she was perched on the edge of the mattress. His hand shifted to brush against her forehead. “You have no fever.”

She managed a stiff smile, wondering if she were imagining the lingering suspicion beneath his display of concern.

“I am not ill, only hungry,” she assured him. “I have had only an apple to eat today.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I assumed that you starve all your prisoners.”

Her words had been teasing, but Jacques scowled, clearly offended by her implication she had been abused. Of course, he was a gentleman who took his need to protect women very much to heart, she reminded herself, feeling a stab of unwelcome sympathy.

“I have offered you nothing but my protection, ma petite.”

She grimaced, attempting to appear wan and defenseless without overplaying her role.

“Perhaps, but the situation is…difficult.”

“Oui.” He studied her upturned face with an unnerving intensity. “I understand.”

She licked her dry lips. “Could I have a tray?”

His hesitation was so fleeting, Talia managed to convince herself that she had imagined it.

“Of course.” He brushed his fingers down her cheek before offering a shallow bow. “I will return in a few moments.”

“Thank you.”

Watching as he left the room and closed the door, Talia gingerly rose and crossed the room to listen to his retreating footsteps that echoed down the hall. Only when she was certain he was truly gone did she turn and hurry toward the panel, giving it a light tap to indicate that Jacques was gone.

With a faint whisper the panel slid open, and Gabriel stepped into the room, catching her off guard as he muttered a curse and wrapped her in his arms, his grip so tight that it became a challenge to breathe.

Not that she protested. Pressing her face against the solid wall of his chest, she ran her hands down his back, anxious to assure herself he was unharmed.

“Dear God. I was so worried,” she breathed. “How did you escape?”

His lips brushed her temple before he pulled back, revealing his tense expression.

“That is something we can discuss once we are out of here.”

“Yes.”

He glanced around the elegant room, his lips thinning at the unmistakable sight of Jacques’s clothing hanging in the wardrobe and his boots standing beside the fireplace.

“Is there anything that you need?” he rasped.

She reached up to press her lips to the hard line of his jaw.

“Nothing but you.”

His silver eyes flashed with an emotion that made her heart leap.

“Talia…”

The flicker of the candles was the only warning as the door to the room was abruptly shoved open, and Jacques stepped over the threshold. Talia silently cursed her stupidity as the Frenchman’s gaze fell upon Gabriel with a resignation that proved he had not been deceived by her pretense of hunger for even a moment.