Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(32)
He took a deep breath of the crisp air at the same time she did, and together they smiled at the stretch of beach far below them and the endless blue of the lake beyond.
“Some things never change,” he said. “I’ll always love this island.”
He glanced to the horizon, to the endless possibilities, adventure, and excitement it held. His heart gave an extra beat in anticipation of the places he would go and the things he’d see this fall when he returned with his brigade to the wilderness, the beauty of the land, the thick untouched forests, the clear lakes, and the rivers so clean he could drink from them.
He loved not knowing what he would see around the next bend. He thrived on each new discovery and place, and the people he met. He even loved the grueling work of paddling all day and portaging the long distances between rivers.
“I breathe adventure, Angelique,” he said at last. “And as much as I love the island, I don’t know how I’d ever be content to live here year-round.”
She released a sigh.
For a long moment he wished he could tell her he’d stay. But he knew that would be a lie. Maybe someday he’d be ready to settle down, to have a permanent home, and do something else besides fur trading. For now, though, he couldn’t imagine that happening anytime soon.
The wind coming off the lake still had the chill of winter. But the sun’s rays poured down upon their heads, warming them. He glanced at Angelique and wished he could pull off her cap, let her hair tumble down around her shoulders.
“Lavinia McDouall is determined to make a lady of you, is she?”
Angelique screwed up her features into a look of disgust. “She won’t have much success. I’m not a lady and never will be.”
“Good. I like you just the way you are.”
She ducked her head and slid her hand over her skirt, covering a large stain. “I suppose I can learn a few things from her.”
“I’d hate for you to become too ladylike to sit up here with me or to fish or swim. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”
“I’ll never be too ladylike for those things.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Besides, Miss McDouall might not be able to give me her lessons anyway. Lieutenant Steele came with a note yesterday explaining that our lessons are postponed since Miss McDouall is ill.”
“So I heard.”
“The fever and ague?”
“Non. Only a chill that she contracted during the voyage here.” He brushed his hand against the loose stones, sending a shower over the edge of the arch. “She should have stayed back in Montreal where she belongs.”
He could feel Angelique studying him, but he stared at the solid limestone ridge that jutted out around them. Ladies like Lavinia didn’t belong on Michilimackinac Island any more than women belonged out in the wilderness with the fur traders.
“It sounds like you care for Miss McDouall.” Her tone carried a hint of accusation.
He grinned. “And it sounds like you’re jealous.”
“Not in the least.”
“Admit it. You’re jealous.”
“I just can’t picture you with a woman like her.”
“The same way I can’t picture you with Jean.” He didn’t know why he couldn’t just let the issue go. Why did he care so much if Angelique married Jean?
Her eyes flickered with confusion and then with something raw and real. It was partly the admiration for him that she’d always shown, but it was more than that. It was something deeper that went into his blood, pumping it a little faster.
He knew he shouldn’t question her choice of Jean. His brother would give her a better life than any other man could. Jean would treat her kindly and provide for her needs. Pierre should be happy for her and encourage her choice of Jean . . . instead of making her second-guess it all the time.
“I’m sorry.” He peered toward the blue of the horizon, willing the American ships to make their appearance and put an end to the war that had been dragging on far too long. “I need to stop teasing you. Jean will be a good match for you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course he won’t be me.” Pierre tried to make his voice light. “But he’ll have to do.”
“No one can be you,” she whispered. There was a wistfulness in her tone that made him swivel so that he was facing her.
She looked up at him, revealing such a pure and shining adoration that his pulse sped again.
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for the strings of her mobcap and tugging them loose. He slid it off and freed her beautiful hair, so that her curls spilled around her face and over her shoulders. He let his fingers plunge into the silky thickness.
A tiny warning sounded at the back of his mind, but the deep, rich red that was softer and more luxurious than the best of his furs was too hard to resist. He intertwined his fingers and brought a fistful to his cheek. The softness caressed his skin. From there it was all too easy to bring the long tresses to his lips, to graze her curls, and to allow them to tantalize him.
He had the sudden desire to pull her into his arms, to hold her, and to bury his face in her hair. And when he locked eyes with her, the intensity of the longing in her expression sent a ripple of warm waves against his chest.
Her breath came in a gasp between her full and pretty lips.