Page 57 of A Bride By Morning
Gabriel’s wife forced her attention away, her notice snagging on the lanterns outside as the carriages were readied.
“Goodness,” she murmured. “I wasn’t aware the maids had packed me enough for three carriages.”
“The others are decoys,” Gabriel told her. “Wentworth and his team will be on one, Callihan on the other. After what I did to Vladimir, Medvedev will be planning his counter-attack. It’s better that we have other conveyances to spread his men out.”
Lydia’s head snapped back. “You think they’ll attack us on the way?”
“Perhaps not,” Wentworth assured her. “My men are watching the roads. But Lord Montgomery wishes to assure your safety.”
Lydia let out a breath. “Then thank you, Mr. Wentworth, for helping us today.”
Outside, Callihan lifted a hand to signal that the staff had finished packing the carriages and preparing the horses. Gabriel fought the urge to rush Lydia into the carriage. The faster he took her to Devon, the sooner she would be out of immediate danger.
“You’re ready?” he asked her.
His wife swallowed but nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Prepare for a long journey. Any rests between here and Devon will be short.”
And once he got her there, he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
The carriage ambleddown the uneven country road. Gabriel attempted to conceal his apprehension—but he wondered if the woman sitting across from him noticed the tense way he gripped the edge of his overcoat. The distance between them in that cramped carriage seemed so small and vast at the same time.
Every part of him ached to be closer.
Lydia fidgeted, her hands resting in the folds of her dress. Gabriel was aware that her unease matched his, but he could do nothing to soothe her. The boy she had grown up with knew how; when she cried over a skinned knee, he knew to hold her and whisper calming words in her ear.
But Gabriel was not a man trained to comfort. That had been obliterated in Moscow. Reassurance, after all, had such little value in the work he had done. It was worth nothing.
Gabriel was too inhospitable for Lydia, his mind and heart like a vast, barren desert: uninhabitable in both the heat and the cold. Yet, he still craved her. He was going to ruin her, and he still longed for every point of contact, no matter how brief.
“How long will it take to get there?” Her voice jolted him from his thoughts. He looked up to find her watching him, and he wondered if she spoke to fill the silence. “My aunt has always longed to holiday in Cornwall, but I’ve never been farther than Bath.”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “The entire night. We’ll arrive before sunrise.”
The very notion of spending half a day in a carriage with her felt like an infinite amount of time. Her regard, after all, reached deep into his very soul. It saw him for a liar. It laid bare the truth: she was the only thing he coveted in this brutal world.
An image, unbidden, rose from his mind: her beneath him as he pounded into her. The taste of her skin as he kissed her.
Last night, she had asked him to stay.
“Gabriel,” she said, still fidgeting. “Are you worried?”
Why could he kill a man and feel nothing, but the barest hint that she might be terrified made him want to bundle her up and hold her close?
“No.” His voice was cold. He had learned to use that voice for effect during his operations. He had crafted it to cut glass.
She twisted her hands tighter, and Gabriel wished he hadn’t noticed it. He wished he could focus on the dark landscape out the windows. On everything but her. But he was aware of her every movement and the flagrant evidence of her unease. It struck him like a blunt instrument.
Lydia inhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t recall you telling me of the property in Devon.”
“Langdon Manor,” Gabriel said. “It was my mother’s favorite house, but my father had difficulty visiting after she passed. I haven’t been there in years.”
She nodded, staring down at her trembling hands. Gabriel couldn’t bear it anymore; he could not feign indifference while she sat across him, fearful of their journey. That his usually calm wife trembled at all left him fucking furious over the cause.
Gabriel reached over and settled his hands over hers. “You’re afraid,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “Yes.” Then she made a noise. “And I’m worried about Mr. Wentworth and Mr. Callihan in the other carriages.”
