Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(20)

“Why?” He spun to face her, not caring if she was half dressed. But she’d already donned her skirt and bodice, and they stuck to her wet skin and undergarments. “Why aren’t you being more careful?”

She reached for her mobcap, pressed a fisted hand onto her hip, and glared at him. “For your information, I was sneaking food to your mother. Without my deliveries every morning, she would have starved to death.”

His angry retort died, stabbed by a sword of guilt that had been slicing at him since his return to the island. If he’d been here over the winter, he could have cared for Maman and kept Angelique from having to put herself in danger.

With a breath of frustration, Pierre dove underwater again and swam for the shore. The chilly water stung his cheeks. The muddy scent from the recently thawed snow filled his nostrils. And the taste of guilt lingered on his tongue.

It wasn’t his fault Maman had almost starved to death. He hadn’t known she was blind and that she couldn’t take care of herself anymore. And he hadn’t realized the food situation for the islanders had become so desperate.

But would he have been willing to leave the wilderness to return to the island to help her? Would he have sacrificed his brigade, his furs, and the way of life he loved? More important, now that he knew how desperate her situation was, what was he going to do about it? He couldn’t very well abandon his brigade or his furs to help her.

Since the fur-bearing animals were nearly extinct in Europe, the British were desperate to keep control of the fur trade in North America. They were paying good prices for each pelt. The past few years of trading had proven to be very profitable for him. He’d amassed four canoes of his own and was an independent, bourgeois headman over nearly fifty men.

If he could trade all his pelts without any further problems, he would accumulate a hefty profit. So long as the North West Company left his furs and men alone.

He needed to stay with his brigade. He wanted to stay with them.

Pierre reached the shore and climbed out. Water dripped from his body and formed a puddle at his feet. The spring breeze thrashed against his bare back like a cat-o’-nine-tails.

He couldn’t expect Angelique to continue to put herself at risk for Maman, could he?

“I’m sorry the past year was so difficult for you and Maman,” he finally said, squeezing water out of the leg of one of his trousers. “It hurts me to think of how much you’ve suffered.”

She didn’t say anything.

When he chanced a glance at her, she was staring directly at his chest with her mouth slightly open. Her gaze slid down the length of him and then back up.

A grin tugged at his lips. “We’re not little kids anymore,” he said, mimicking her tone from only a moment ago.

When her eyes lifted to meet his, his grin widened in expectation of one of her ready smiles. But she didn’t smile. She didn’t even speak.

Instead a current shot across the distance between them. The intensity of it pierced his gut and charged through his blood.

Her runaway curls tumbled about her face and down her shoulders. Even though her face was thin from hunger, there was no denying that the years apart had shaped Angelique into a beautiful woman.

Again, for a long moment he couldn’t make himself look away from her. He felt as though he were riding through a surging rapids with the crashing and swaying of the water pushing on him and threatening to capsize him.

He had the sudden urge to cross the distance between them, grab hold of her, and . . .

And what?

He shook his head, letting his hair flap in the breeze and spray water everywhere. He gave himself a mental shake while he was at it.

Angelique was his friend. She’d always adored him in a brotherly way. That was all she still felt. Wasn’t it?

He rubbed his hand through his hair, combing out even more water, and he peeked at her from under his lashes.

She’d turned her head away, and a blush had crept up her cheeks. Non. She felt nothing more than the old friendly affection for him. He’d do best to continue to treat her like a friend just as he always had. He grabbed his shirt and tugged it back on, yanking it over his damp skin.

She didn’t say anything but instead busied herself retying her cap and tucking every single strand of her glorious hair out of sight. When she turned to face him again, she’d even shoved her collar up to her chin, hiding the bruises on her neck.

Covered from head to toe in the plainest of garments without a stitch of color, she looked like a nun, which was a shame. Her hair was much too pretty to cover. “I think you should leave your cap off.”

She shook her head. “Ebenezer would lock me in my room for a month if he saw me without my head covering.”

He forced his foot into one of his boots. “I take it Ebenezer is still giving you a hard time?”

She hesitated, a cloud settling over her features. “Now with Therese gone, he’s taken it upon himself to make sure I turn into a saint.”

He paused, his other boot in hand. In the distance he could hear the songs of other voyageurs arriving on the island. “I’m sorry about Therese. I heard what happened.”

Angelique nodded, her face a solemn mask. “She didn’t want to go.”

“So Ebenezer forced her to marry Duncan?” He’d suspected as much, but he hadn’t known for sure, only that the old trader had boasted he’d won the bid to marry the attractive girl.