“I am not proud of myself, but I pretended that I had something in my slipper and when he bent down to assist me I hit him with this.”
“What is it?” Sophia demanded.
“When I was younger I spent time with my father upon the docks. I was befriended by a Portuguese sailor who carved this for me and taught me the best means of striking a man.” Talia smiled at the memory of Santos, who’d been endlessly patient with a lonely girl in desperate need of affection. “My father always insisted that I carry it with me for protection.”
Gabriel studied the tiny weapon with an unreadable expression. “You had that hidden on your person at our wedding?”
“It was in my reticule.” She frowned at the strange question. “Why?”
He grimaced. “Good God.”
Without warning Sophia’s throaty chuckle filled the air. “Do you know, my lady, I was quite prepared to detest you, but I discover myself as helplessly enchanted as everyone else.” She turned her head to toss Gabriel a mocking glance. “I trust you to take her far away from France and do not allow her to return.”
“I—”
Talia’s angry retort was interrupted as Gabriel moved to take her arm.
“Can you distract the guards?” he asked of Sophia.
The older woman smiled. “Actually, I think I can do better than that.” She tugged the torch from the wall bracket and stepped through the door. “This way.”#p#分页标题#e#
With little choice, Talia allowed Gabriel to tug her from the room and down the low passageway.
No one spoke as they turned off the main pathway into a narrow tunnel that was filled with cobwebs and goodness knew what nasty creatures. Talia instinctively pressed closer to Gabriel, for the moment more afraid of the small furry rats scurrying around her feet than the one walking at her side.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Sophia led them out of the tunnel into an abandoned garden that was situated behind the kitchens. Pausing long enough to make certain there were no guards near, Sophia led them through the overgrown pathway, pushing open an ivy-covered gate and scurrying toward the nearby woods.
Shifting the bundle in her arms, Talia lifted her skirts to keep pace as they wove their way through the thick trees, only coming to a halt when they were well out of sight of the palace.
Sophia turned, shoving the torch into Gabriel’s hand. “I will leave you here.”
“You will say nothing of our conversation to anyone,” Gabriel commanded, sharing a glance with the older woman that spoke of mutual understanding and hidden meanings.
“I have no more desire than you to share our secrets.” With a glance toward the stewing Talia, Sophia leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on Gabriel’s cheek. “Bon voyage, my lord.”
With a last smug smile toward Talia, the aggravating witch slid smoothly into the shadows and disappeared. At the same moment Gabriel hurried Talia in the opposite direction, ignoring her protests as her skirts were shredded to tatters from the underbrush.
He continued the punishing pace for the next two hours, battling a path for them with sheer brute force. Talia might have been impressed with his prowess if she had not been plagued by the memory of Sophia.
Had the two of them just risen from the narrow cot when she’d entered the cellar, or had she intruded before they could become intimate?
And why did either option make her desire to blacken his eye?
She had known when they’d wed that Gabriel was bound to have dozens of mistresses. Fidelity was considered a puritanical concept among society, and nothing could be more bourgeoisie than to display affection for one’s own wife or husband.
Besides, Gabriel had made it clear when he’d visited her with that damnable marriage contract that, while he was capable of demanding her loyalty, he had no desire to promise his own.
Of course he was bound to fill his bed with one beautiful woman after another.
Unfortunately, logic did not ease her simmering anger, and when he at last paused to offer her a rest, she was in no humor for his stern disapproval.
“You look like a ragamuffin,” he growled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to scrub at the dirt marring her cheek.
“Perhaps you would have preferred to be running through the woods with the lovely Sophia? She would never dare look like a ragamuffin,” she snapped.
He scowled, but his fingers were gentle as he moved the handkerchief to a spot near her lips.
“I would prefer that you discontinue your habit of rushing headlong into danger.”
“Habit?” She glared into the predatory beauty of his face, unable to believe even Gabriel could hold her to blame for being kidnapped. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”