Yes, Gabe realized that.
“And I will ask Jim to come, to be Nicky’s companion, to be like a brother to him, because it is important my son have a friend to whom he is just Nicky, not ‘the prince.’ And because Jim needs a family.”
Gabe nodded.
“And I am going to ask Tibby to come with me, too, to be my secretary.”
Still Gabe said nothing.
“And—and I thought perhaps Ethan would come, for a while, at least. There are some very fast horses in Zindaria…and perhaps he and Tibby…”
He shook his head. “I doubt it.”
She sighed, then gave him an anxious look. “But more than anything I need to know…what are your plans, Gabriel?”
“I’m not sure.” For once Gabe wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He had to know.
“I thought you were going to work with Harry on your horse-breeding project,” she said.
“Harry doesn’t need me for that. It was always his idea, his project. It’s his dream. And Ethan’s.”
“And what about the Grange? It’s your home. There are people there dependent on you.”
He shook his head. “I spent eight years away, and they managed perfectly well without me. In any case, Harry will probably manage the Grange, at least until he gets his own place.”
He added, “I was always restless there. I didn’t know what I wanted.”
“And do you know what you want now?”
“I do.” He waited for her to ask what it was.
She waited, looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t speak. He had to know, first, what he was up against.
The silence stretched.
She slipped out of bed and, naked, padded to the chest of drawers and pulled out her red shawl. She wrapped herself in it, covering herself, just barely.
He sat up in the bed. “What are you doing?”
“There is something I have to say to you, Gabriel,” she told him. “And I can’t say it like this. Not when I’m naked. Or touching you.”
She was an utterly enticing sight but Gabe watched her with a cold feeling of dread. She looked to his eyes very much like a woman on the verge of a difficult decision. She was going to give him his marching orders.
If she thought she was going to thank him for his most inadequate protection services and dismiss him, she had another think coming.
He deserved to be dismissed, he knew. She’d married him for protection and he’d failed her. And now Count Anton was dead, she didn’t need Gabe anymore, not even as a convenient husband.
He watched her pacing back and forward in that damned red shawl, inadequately covered, deliciously revealed, her bottom peeping out with every step she took.
She might miss him in the bedroom, he supposed, but men would be queuing up to be her lover. She was too sensual, too obviously delectable not to have them fighting for her favors.
Over his dead body.
All Gabe had were his legal rights as a husband and by God, if that’s what it took, he’d resort to that.
She paced restlessly back and forth beside the bed, her brow furrowed, chewing her lip, driving him wild, even as she drove him to the edge of despair.
She turned and said in a rush, “The thing is, Gabriel, you made a commitment in front of witnesses and God and I don’t think it’s right that you want to wriggle out of it. I know you have a family here in England, and a home, and friends—very good friends. There are hundreds of people here who love you but—”
