Bride for a Night(46)

“Bring only the necessities.” Gabriel crossed to spread one of the gowns over the mattress, then tucked her undergarments in the muslin folds before rolling it into a tidy bundle. “I have packed your belongings and have them waiting for you on my ship.”

Talia’s protest died on her lips as her eyes widened in disbelief.

“You packed a bag for me?”

He crossed to the washstand, collecting her toothbrush and tooth powder as well as the silver hairbrush and mirror, savagely promising to toss them in the rubbish the moment they reached his ship. No man would provide for Talia but himself.

She belonged to him.

Prickly temper and all.

“Actually I packed several bags since I have never before played lady’s maid and was not entirely certain what you would need,” he informed her.

“Why did you not have Mrs. Donaldson assist you?”

He snorted, recalling the wailing and handwringing that had filled his once peaceful home.

“Because the entire staff is prostrate with grief.” He gave a shake of his head, still amazed by his servants’ unashamed hysterics at Talia’s disappearance. “I fear if I do not have you returned to their tender care soon the entire estate will collapse in despair.”

Her lips tightened. “You needn’t mock.”

“I am not mocking, my dear.” His gaze lingered on the delicate beauty of her face, before skimming down to the body that was pure perfection. A dangerous sensation gripped his heart, forcing him to accept just how much he had missed this female. It was ludicrous. She had been little more than a stranger when he’d wed her. And yet the desire to have her near was a potent ache that refused to be dismissed. Dammit. “You have earned the loyalty of all those who depend upon Carrick Park for their livelihood. It is quite remarkable in such a short period of time.”

“They are good people and I genuinely care about them,” she said. “Unlike…”

A humorless smile twisted his lips as Talia hastily bit off her words.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“’Tis nothing.”

“On the contrary. I would guess it was an insult.” He watched the color flood her cheeks, ruefully acknowledging that for all of Talia’s lack of blue blood she had already proven to be a better countess than a great many of his ancestors. Including the current dowager Countess of Ashcombe. “The only question is whether it was intended for me or my mother.”

Her blush deepened and, grabbing a shawl from the armoire, Talia headed for the door.

“I am ready.”

He hurried in her wake, catching her arm as she marched down the main corridor.

“This way,” he said, tugging her into a small salon and through a narrow doorway hidden in the wall.

In silence they navigated the smothering darkness of the secret hallway that Gabriel had discovered during his search for Talia. The lack of dust and spiderwebs had warned him that the current occupants were familiar with the cramped corridor, but he doubted they actually patrolled the passageway.

Not that he was willing to lower his guard.

Pulling his loaded pistol from his pocket, he led Talia through the darkness until he at last slowed and pushed open the door to the vast library. He paused, ensuring that there was no one near before crossing the Savonnerie carpet to pull open the door leading to the terrace.

Earlier he had used the steps leading from the garden to the terrace to enter the palace. Now, however, he came to an abrupt halt as he caught faint sounds drifting from the nearby shadows.

“Damn.”