Bride for a Night(84)

Ignoring the near tangible judgment in the air, Talia stabbed him with an impatient frown.

“Where is Gabriel?”

The large man shrugged. “In his cabin. He said he was in dire need of a bath and I agreed.”

She pressed a hand to her quivering stomach. Oh, lord, she was too late.

“You must stop the boat.”

Not surprisingly Lord Rothwell regarded her as if she had taken leave of her senses.

“It is a yacht,” he corrected in icy tones, “and it cannot simply be stopped.”

Only a few weeks ago, Talia would have wilted beneath the barely hidden contempt. She would have gone to any lengths to avoid a disturbing confrontation.

Now she squared her shoulders and pointed a finger directly in Lord Rothwell’s handsome face. Gabriel needed her. She would face down the devil himself if necessary.

“I do not care what it is called or what you need do to bar us from leaving, just do it,” she spat out. “I must return to the shore.”

His brows jerked together, obviously shocked by her fierce response. “Why?

“Because Gabriel is not in his cabin.”

“Then he is no doubt with the captain.”

Talia clenched her hands at her sides, her gaze trained on the distant cliffs that appeared like a forbidding barrier in the gathering gloom.

Did she dare?

Gabriel had offered her his trust when he had shared the truth of Harry’s treachery. It had been a rare gift that he offered to few in his life, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt if she betrayed that trust their relationship would be destroyed beyond repair.

But could she allow herself to be meekly hauled back to England with the knowledge that Gabriel was confronting his brother alone? Or worse, walking into a trap carefully laid by Jacques?

She shivered, an unbearable dread swelling in her heart.

No. No matter what the cost, she could not abandon Gabriel. She would deal with the consequences when he was safely returned to the yacht.

Slowly turning, she met Lord Rothwell’s golden gaze. “No, Gabriel is not with the captain.” She paused to gather her shaky courage. “He is on his way to Calais.”

A thunderous silence greeted her words, then grasping her elbow, Lord Rothwell tugged her away from the curious sailors, his voice pitched low to ensure it would not travel.

“Why the devil would he be going to Calais?”

She licked her dry lips. “Because his brother is hiding there.”

“Harry?” He shook his head. “Harry is in Calais?”

The yacht swayed as the sails were unfurled, and Talia desperately glanced toward the shore.

“I will explain later.” She pressed a hand to her racing heart, her expression pleading. “For now you must tell them to stop.”

She sensed him tense, his entire body poised for battle. Just as Gabriel would have been, she thought with a wistful pang. The two men clearly shared more in common than their titles.

There was the same ruthless, driving power that Gabriel possessed. Not to mention the air of arrogant authority that came as naturally as breathing.

He did not, however, shout for the sailors to halt their business, or command the captain to drop the anchor as she had hoped.

Instead he studied her in grim silence before sucking in a deep breath. “No.”

“No?” What the devil was the matter with the man? “Did you hear me? Gabriel is not aboard.”

“He obviously gave the command to cast off, which means he understood the yacht would leave without him.”

She shook her head in confusion. “What does it matter?”