Bride for a Night(125)

“No,” Hugo growled, moving to untangle the reins from the hitching post and swinging easily onto the carriage, his large form knocking the slender Harry to the side. “I was witness to your spectacular race down St. James’s Street where you injured a dozen pedestrians before overturning and destroying your carriage along with Sir Barclay’s.”

Harry glared at Hugo. “I was drunk.”

“No doubt, but more important you are a cow-handed greenhorn who is a danger to himself and others,” Hugo informed him dryly.

Harry shifted his gaze to his brother. “Gabriel.”

“I should have let the two of you kill one another in the cellars,” Gabriel muttered. “Hugo, get us out of here.”

“Aye, sir.”

Barely waiting for Gabriel to climb into the carriage and close the door, Hugo urged the horses down the alley. Once they reached the main street, he swerved to take them directly south, the swift pace making the vehicle sway and the clatter of horseshoes echo through the sleepy streets.

Inside the carriage the passengers maintained a grim silence. The two women sat stiffly on the seat, clearly unnerved by the air of violence that threatened to explode at any moment. Across from them, Gabriel kept the pistol aimed at the dangerous Frenchman even as he shifted so he could keep watch on the street behind them. It would be difficult to attack a moving carriage but not impossible, and he did not intend to be caught off guard.

Still traveling at breakneck speed, they charged through the city gates to the countryside beyond, but Gabriel remained on alert. Despite the lingering gloom, he had not been blind to the silhouettes of men on horseback that had been barely visible in the distance. It was near enough dawn that the forms might have been servants or merchants going about their business. Hell, they could be drunken noblemen attempting to stumble their way home from the various gambling dens and whorehouses.


But with his current streak of luck, he would bet his last quid that they were Jacques’s guards in pursuit.

They had traveled several miles before Hugo was forced to slow the pace of the carriage as he turned onto the narrow path leading toward the shore. The side-to-side swaying of the vehicle settled into a jolting rattle that nearly sent the four of them out of their seats as Hugo steered them over the rocks and fallen logs that threatened to impede their retreat. Gabriel tensed his jaw, casting a worried glance toward Talia who had grasped the leather strap that dangled from the roof. She was so tiny she was being bounced around like a rag doll.

At last they came to a blessed halt, and Gabriel bent forward to shove open the door.

“Jacques, if you will be so good as to descend first?” he drawled. “I would not desire any ambitious guards that might have followed us to become overeager.”

“Coward,” the Frenchman muttered.

“Cautious,” Gabriel amended, deliberately glancing at the women who sat in weary silence on the opposite seat. “And, Jacques, do not forget that it is not only your life that hangs in the balance.”

In the midst of crawling out of the carriage, Jacques paused to glare at Gabriel.

“Threaten Sophia again and I will—”

“Yes?”

An icy fury tightened the man’s features. “Do not tempt me.”

“It grows late, or rather early, and I desire a hot bath and a warm bed.” Gabriel pressed the pistol to the man’s forehead. “Now move or I will decide you are not worth the trouble of keeping alive.”

“Vermine.”

Gabriel waited for Jacques to step out of the carriage, shifting to the side so he could keep a watch on the small clearing. Beyond the barren emptiness he could see a thick line of trees on one side and on the other the sheer cliff that overlooked the sea.