Bride for a Night(47)

Talia moved to his side. “Guards?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

He attempted to pull her away, but she was already peering over the edge of the terrace.

“What are they—” She gasped as she caught sight of the soldier leaning against the fountain with a maid kneeling in front of him, his low moans of pleasure filling the air. “Oh.”

He jerked her back into the library, annoyed that she had been exposed to such lewd behavior. Did Jacques have no control over his men?


Weaving a path through the gilt chairs covered in red velvet and the heavily scrolled desk, Gabriel pulled open the door to the connected room.

“Where does this lead?”

Talia shook her head. “I am not certain.”

Gabriel cautiously entered what appeared to be an antechamber with a massive black marble fireplace and brocade chairs seated near a round table that held a jade and ivory chess set.

They had just crossed to the opposite door when the sound of footsteps in the main corridor had them both stiffening in alarm.

“Gabriel,” Talia breathed.

“I hear them.”

With long strides he crossed to yank aside the crimson curtains and pushed open the window sash.

Talia was swiftly at his side. “What are you doing?”

Gabriel leaned over the sill, surveying the garden two stories below.

“It is not far to the garden.”

“Are you mad?” Talia rasped.

“I will go first.” Gabriel tossed the small bundle he carried to the flower bed below the window before turning to grasp Talia’s hand. “Once I’m certain no one is near, I will whistle and you can join me.”

Her eyes darkened with fear. “You want me to jump?”

“I will catch you.”

“No.” She wildly shook her head, her raven curls sliding sensuously over the bare skin of her shoulders. “I cannot.”

“Look at me, Talia.” He slid a hand beneath her chin, tilting her face up to meet his encouraging expression. “You have already proven there is no challenge you cannot confront with courage. You can do this.”

“But…”

Lowering his head, Gabriel ended her words of protest with a soft, lingering kiss that only hinted at the raw need clawing deep inside him.

“Trust me,” he whispered against her mouth.



TALIA WAS STILL reeling from her uncontrollable reaction to Gabriel’s branding kiss when he slung a leg over the windowsill and leaped into the garden below. She gasped, racing forward to peer into the darkness even as she told herself she was a fool to be concerned.

She had no notion why Gabriel had taken it upon himself to rush to her rescue, but it was certainly not because he had any finer feelings for her. Or even the most basic concern of a husband for his wife.

How could he when the aggravating man had done nothing but bully and accuse and insult her since his unexpected arrival on the terrace?

She could only presume that his pride could not bear the thought that the Countess of Ashcombe was being held captive by a French spy.

Much to her annoyance, however, she could not stop herself from breathlessly waiting for his whistle to assure her that all was well. Nor could she quell the flutter of panic when long minutes passed with nothing but the distant cry of an owl to break the silence.

Gripping the edge of the window she leaned forward, her fear for Gabriel overcoming her intense dislike for heights.

“Gabriel?” she cried. “Are you hurt?”

There was a rustle from the nearby hedges, then her heart froze at the sight of Gabriel stepping into the moonlight with Jacques on one side and a French soldier on the other with a gun pointed directly at Gabriel’s head.