Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(24)

The flush in Angelique’s cheeks turned brighter, and she ducked her head.

He gave a short laugh. “Why in the world would Angelique marry Jean?” He couldn’t picture Angelique with his younger brother. Jean was much too soft-spoken and serious for a fun girl like Angelique.

“Yes,” Maman said with a beaming smile. “Jean and Angelique are betrothed. And just as soon as he returns, they’ll be married, even if Ebenezer doesn’t agree to it. Right, Angelique?”

Angelique glanced sideways at Pierre.

He could only stare back, confusion eating at his gut. Was Maman serious?

Angelique took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and faced him squarely. “It’s true. I’m engaged to Jean.”

He forced a grin. “Is this a joke, Angelique?”

“It’s not a joke. I’m marrying Jean.” Her eyes held the same hint of accusation as earlier. “I’m grateful for his offer of marriage. He’s exactly the kind of man I need in my life.”

“I suppose he’s the kind of man you need if you want to be bored all the livelong day.”

Angelique glared at him, then managed to break away from Maman and cross toward the door.

“Now, Pierre.” Maman’s voice held a gentle rebuke. “Jean is a good man.”

“I’m not disagreeing that he’s a good man. I just don’t think he’s the right man for Angelique.”

With a jerk, Angelique swung open the door. “Good-bye, Miriam.” She tossed the words over her shoulder before grabbing her string of fish and darting outside.

Pierre released a pent-up breath. Why should he care that Jean and Angelique were getting married? Shouldn’t he be happy for them—even if they weren’t right for each other?

“She’s doing the best thing for both of them, Pierre,” Maman said. “She makes Jean very happy. And Jean will be able to give her a much better and safer life.”

Pierre stared at the open doorway. “The news just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Go after her and tell her you’re sorry.” Maman’s plea wasn’t necessary. He’d already started across the cabin and out the door.



Angelique stomped across the grassy field toward the footpath that would take her back to town.

What right did Pierre have, bursting back into their lives after all this time and poking fun at her choice of a marriage partner? What did he know about her life? Or Jean’s, for that matter, and what was best for them?

With a huff she tossed her morning catch over her shoulder, not caring that the fish had begun to stink or that their slime was rubbing against her bodice.

“Angelique, wait.” Pierre’s call came from behind her.

She didn’t want to talk to him any further about Jean. She was embarrassed to discuss her marriage plans, though she wasn’t sure why. Jean was everything she wanted in a husband. He would be there for her day in and day out. He wouldn’t disappear whenever the wilderness called. And he truly loved her. Pierre had no right to insult her decision to marry Jean. Not after he’d deserted her.

“Please, Angelique.” Pierre caught up with her. “You know I didn’t really mean what I said.”

“You meant every word.” She lengthened her stride, even though every muscle in her body ached to slow down and be with him.

The entire morning—from the swim in the pond to the race back to the cabin to sharing breakfast together—had filled her with an intense passion for Pierre, the same girlish passion she thought she’d long outgrown.

She’d so carefully patched up her broken heart when he’d left the island. But overnight and in one short morning he’d managed to rip out the seams, and now her heart hung wide open.

“Please stop, Angelique.” He easily kept up with her long steps. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to apologize.”

Her feet slowed to a halt. She couldn’t fool herself. She wanted to be with him too much, and she’d take any excuse she could to spend a little more time with him.

His fingers circled her upper arm, spinning her to face him.

He towered above her, his handsome face lined with worried wrinkles and his dark eyes peering down into hers, so sincere, so hard to resist. His thick, wavy hair fell above his eyebrows.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I guess I still think of you as my little sister, and it’s hard for me to imagine you being grown up enough to get married to anyone, especially my kid brother.”

At the earnestness of his words, her resistance melted away. With the lingering taste of his fish cakes on her tongue and the satisfaction of a full stomach—something she hadn’t experienced in many months—she couldn’t stay embarrassed or angry for long. “I’m not too young to get married. I’m eighteen, you know.”

“I know.” He stared at her unbound hair, and to her surprise he touched one of the dangling curls by her cheek, tracing the spiral down to her chin.

She wanted to lean into his hand to feel his touch against her cheek. But she held herself still.

“If you love Jean, and he makes you happy, then who am I to question your plans?”

Did she love Jean?

In the distance, among the damp thicket, came the sweet whistle of a yellow warbler.