Bride for a Night(95)

He arched a brow. “There will be no need for manipulation. I intend to make certain my bride is delighted to obey my every command.”

Talia snorted at the imperious certainty in his tone. How typical of a nobleman to speak of his mythical wife as if she were a well-trained hound rather than a flesh-and-blood woman with her own needs.

And how pathetic so many females allowed themselves to be treated in such a fashion.

Thankfully, she was no longer hampered by the expectations of society.

She would do whatever it might take to find and rescue Gabriel, but she would never again be his meek, subservient bride.

“Now I truly do pity her, but Gabriel was not so fortunate,” she informed her companion. “I intend to go with you and that is the end of the matter.”

With a shake of his head, Rothwell grasped her arm in a firm grip and tugged her toward the nearby street, his mouth thin with frustration.

“Stubborn female.”

It was becoming a familiar accusation, and Talia merely smiled as she was hauled through the darkness, content with her small victory. Eventually Lord Rothwell would decide that the danger was too great, and he would put down his foot. She was certain at that point no amount of pleading would alter his mind.

They remained silent as they traveled away from the city walls, traveling through increasingly elegant neighborhoods as they left the busy docks and coffee shops behind. The large nobleman walked with a purpose, as if he had a particular destination in mind that was not among the terraced townhouses with their red-tiled roofs and high arched windows that allowed light to spill onto the streets.

Talia followed in his wake, absently searching every shadowed alcove and alley as they hurried through the darkness. She did not expect to actually stumble over Gabriel. Their luck could not possibly be that good. But that did not keep her heart from leaping each time she caught sight of a large gentleman strolling down the street or stepping from a house.

They turned a corner, on the point of heading out of the neighborhood, when Talia came to a shocked halt, her hand reaching to grasp her companion’s arm. “Wait.”

Standing at her side, Lord Rothwell regarded her with an impatient scowl.

“What is it?”

She pointed toward a large house on the corner that was built of pale sandstone with a wide balcony on the second floor and a steeply pitched roof. There was a small garden that separated it from the surrounding homes and a narrow path that led to the mews behind the establishment.


“Jacques Gerard is here.”

His scowl only deepened. “How can you be so certain?”

“I recognize the carriage.” She pointed toward the lavish maroon-and-gold vehicle that she had last seen in Jacques’s stables at the palace. It was impossible to believe that there were a large number of similar carriages in France. “Besides, his need to avenge himself against the French aristocracy would demand that he take command of the finest home in Calais.”

Rothwell stilled, almost as if he were a hunter on the sudden scent of his prey. The image made Talia shiver, for the first time realizing just how dangerous an enemy this man would be.

“His presence in town does not necessarily have anything to do with Gabriel,” the nobleman pointed out.

Talia shrugged. “Do you believe in coincidences?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.” Talia made no protest as Rothwell tugged her into the bushes planted along the fence surrounding the house, her thoughts consumed with fear for her husband. Had Jacques already found Gabriel? Was he holding him captive inside or had he…