Bride for a Night(37)
“Jacques…Jack,” he breathed in sudden comprehension. “Of course.”
“Yes, Jack Gerard.”
“And he is a frequent visitor?”
“I do not understand.”
She furrowed her brow, wondering why on earth he appeared to be so preoccupied with her captor. Surely they should be concentrating on escaping before his presence was noticed?
Then realization struck like a slap to the face.
“Oh, my God.” She jerked her hand from his grip. “Did you come here to rescue me or to discover if Jacques is my lover?”
His jaw clenched. “Is he?”
For a crazed moment Talia contemplated the pleasure of knocking the arrogant bastard over the edge of the balcony.
What sort of insufferable, selfish beast was more concerned with whether or not his wife might have strayed than her well-being after enduring the trauma of being kidnapped and held captive?
Then deciding his head was too thick to be harmed by a mere fall, Talia pushed her way past his large form to enter her bedchamber.
“You should leave before the guards discover you are here,” she ordered between clenched teeth.
He was swiftly in pursuit. “You wish to remain?” he demanded.
“I wish…” She came to a sharp halt near the bed, recalling her ridiculous dreams of Gabriel’s romantic charge to the rescue. “I am such an idiot.”
He grabbed her shoulder, turning her to meet his fierce scowl.
“Talia.”
“No.” Instinctively she reached up to knock his hand away. “Do not touch me.”#p#分页标题#e#
He froze, regarding her as if she had suddenly grown a second head.
“You are my wife.”
Her humorless laugh echoed through the room. “A wife you insisted leave town mere hours after our wedding and to whom you haven’t bothered to send so much as a note.”
A flare of color crawled beneath his skin. Talia might have suspected he was embarrassed by her accusation if it weren’t so absurd.
“And because I damaged your pride you turned your attentions to another man?” he snapped.
“I have never turned my attentions to another man.”
“No?” His gaze swept over her expensive satin gown before shifting to the opulent splendor of her room. “It does not appear that way to me.”
“Fine.” Planting her hands on her hips, she shot Gabriel a fierce glare. Something she would never have dreamed possible only a few short weeks ago. “You desire the truth?”
His chin tilted to a haughty angle. “I will accept no less.”
“Then I will admit that I found the Vicar Jack Gerard a kind and charming gentleman who treated me as if I were a true lady of quality and not a bit of rubbish that had to be buried out of sight.”
“That was not…”
“But I have never considered him as more than a friend, and not even that since he forced me to accompany him to France,” she continued without allowing him to defend the indefensible. “You may believe me or not. I do not particularly care.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
GABRIEL CLENCHED HIS hands at his sides, regarding his wife with smoldering frustration.
What the devil had happened?
Everything had gone to plan as he had waited for the shadows to deepen before at last slipping through the gardens and finding an open window to enter the palace.
It had taken longer than he had expected to at last locate Talia’s rooms, and he had been forced to hide more than once to avoid passing guards, but overall he had been pleased to reach Talia without alerting the numerous French swine of his presence.
Then he had heard his wife calling out the name of another man, and his determination to collect Talia and escape with all possible speed had been forgotten beneath a tidal wave of pure male fury.
He had risked his damned life to come to her rescue. How dare she be expecting another man in her private chambers. Especially attired in a slip of a gown that would make any man fantasize of sex?
Even if she spoke the truth and the bastard was not her lover.
And to make matters worse, she did not even possess the grace to apologize, instead attempting to paint him as the villain of the piece.
He shoved an impatient hand through his hair. “Tell me how you came to be here,” he commanded, attempting to regain command of the encounter.
“Why bother?” she mocked, her magnificent eyes flashing with a spirit that was at complete odds with the timid female who had stood at his side during their wedding. “You have obviously made your decision that I am not only a scheming peasant who forced you into marriage, but I am also so lacking in morals that I took a lover within days of becoming the Countess of Ashcombe and…” she sucked in a trembling breath that drew attention to the delectable swell of her breasts “…as the coup de grace I became a French spy.”