Bride for a Night(83)

“Being the Earl of Ashcombe means a burdensome amount of formality,” he said tightly. “This is one of my few means of escape.”

She lifted her brows, as if caught off guard by his response.

“I never considered that you would find it burdensome.”

His lips twisted. Did she truly think he enjoyed being surrounded by cold marble and simpering sycophants? That he truly desired a horde of servants constantly underfoot who were deeply offended by his slightest attempt to decrease the pomp and ceremony?

“The title comes with great gifts along with a great duty,” he informed her. “I do not take either for granted.”

She shifted, touching his jaw with the tips of her fingers in a gentle gesture of understanding. His chest tightened with a dangerous emotion as he lifted his hand to press her fingers against his cheek.

He was uncertain how long they stood there, silently lost in one another, but the fragile moment was interrupted by the large sailors who set the copper tub into the center of the cabin followed by two more who carried the buckets of hot water.

Scowling at the curious gazes from his crew, he stepped back, waving a hand toward the shelves cut into the paneling.

“You will find your belongings next to the bunk.” His hand shifted toward the rope hanging near the small window. “If there is anything else you need, just pull the bell and a servant will answer.”

She frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I must speak with my captain.”

“We’ll be leaving soon?”

“Quite soon.”

She shivered. “Thank God.”

He was wasting precious time, but unable to resist temptation, Gabriel reached to grasp her shoulders, jerking her forward to claim her lips in a swift, branding kiss before he was setting her away and turning toward the door.

“Enjoy your bath and then have a rest,” he ordered on his way out of the cabin. “I will have a tray delivered once we have set sail.”



TALIA FINISHED her bath and pulled on an ivory muslin gown with jade ribbons edging cap sleeves and a frilled hem. The unease that had been stewing in the pit of her stomach became unbearable.

Swiftly braiding her damp hair, she tugged on a pair of calfskin boots and went in search of her missing husband.

No doubt she was being ridiculous.

It was perfectly reasonable that Gabriel was still speaking with the captain. Or even overseeing the crew that she could hear scurrying overhead. Or maybe he had been caught by Lord Rothwell, who was attempting to convince him of all the fine reasons to leave the current Countess of Ashcombe in France.

But she could not forget his thinly veiled agitation that had remained even after they were safely aboard and the fierce kiss that had felt like…goodbye.

He had been hiding something from her, and she had a horrible suspicion she knew precisely what it was.

Finding the connecting cabin empty, Talia moved through the saloon and the galley before making her way up to the deck that bustled with activity. She was not particularly surprised to discover that the sky was painted with shades of deepening plum as dusk spread across the countryside, but her heart lurched at the feel of movement beneath her feet.

God, no. They were slipping away from shore.

For a moment she stood still, her gaze desperately searching for the sight of Gabriel’s familiar profile, her blood running cold as she was forced to accept he was not among the sailors.

Now what did she do?

“You should be belowdecks, my lady.” The large form of Lord Rothwell appeared at her side, his expression hard. “We are preparing to cast off.”