Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(40)

She didn’t know where he was taking her, but as usual she didn’t care. She trusted him, loved being with him, and when she was near him, nothing else mattered.

At the edge of the woods he stopped and faced her. “You’re perfect, except for one thing.” He tugged at her collar, pulling it loose from the bodice, until it hung down, exposing her neck. “There.”

Before she could say anything, he spun and started for the thick stand of spruce, weaving through the trees as naturally as if a trail had been blazed there.

She traipsed after him, her heart humming a sweet tune. From behind, she admired his swagger, the proud tilt of his head, and the confidence he exuded. She grew breathless trying to keep up with him, but she was as familiar with the unmarked trails as he was and wanted to prove she was still as strong and agile as she’d always been.

Finally, when they reached the clearing that led to the Dousman farm, Pierre stopped. He peered up into a tall cedar tree—one of the biggest trees on the island—their thinking tree, the tree they’d always run to when they needed to be alone.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

“What?” She smiled at his eagerness.

He pulled himself up on the first low branch, then held out a hand to her. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

He scaled the tree slowly, pausing to wait and help her up each of the stairlike branches. She allowed him to assist her, even though she was capable of climbing any tree on the island without his assistance, just as she had when they were children. The truth was she liked his gentlemanly attention, even if it was unnecessary.

When they’d reached the middle of the tree, he sat on one of the sturdy branches and scooted down to make room for her to sit beside him. It wasn’t a wide spot, and she found herself scrunched next to him, her arm against his and his thigh bumping hers. For a moment his heavy breathing mingled with hers, the only sound in the shaded coolness of the towering evergreen.

He glanced up and pointed to several branches above them, to a stick nest with long grass, leaves, and twigs poking out in disarray.

“What is it?” she asked.

“An abandoned squirrel nest, with a family of great horned owls living in it.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I saw the male out hunting last night when I was on my way home from my work on Fort George. I trailed him here to our favorite tree.”

They sat quietly, craning their necks and staring at the bottom of the nest.

“Should I climb up and take a better look?”

He shook his head. “If we’re quiet, one of the chicks might show itself.” The warmth of his breath fanned against her cheek.

Her body tightened with eagerness. She wanted to pretend the feelings came from her anticipation of seeing the baby owl. But she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Pierre’s nearness—his body next to hers, the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his arm.

He tugged his leather pouch out from underneath his shirt, and his work-roughened fingers fumbled at the strap. “Open your apron,” he whispered.

She spread out the stained linen, wishing it were clean.

He lifted his pouch and dumped the contents into her lap.

Delight brightened her like one of the shafts of sunlight slanting through the branches. “Wild strawberries,” she said.

“I remembered how much you love them and I picked them for you.”

“The first of the summer.” She lifted one of the red berries, plucked off its green top, and slipped the fruit into her mouth. The mingling of tartness and sweetness was like a taste of heaven, and she closed her eyes to savor each juicy bite.

When she finished and opened her eyes, she quickly picked up another. Though food on the island had been plentiful of late, Ebenezer’s stinginess hadn’t changed, and her belly was never full enough.

She stuffed another berry into her mouth before she realized Pierre was watching her. She turned to him with a smile. “You’ll eat some too, won’t you? You can’t have picked all these just for me.”

But he wasn’t smiling. Instead his eyes were dark and unreadable and focused on her lips.

She stopped chewing and held her breath. There was something about the look in his eyes that made her almost believe he was thinking more about tasting her lips than tasting the strawberries.

She didn’t move. The world grew strangely silent, and she thought she could hear the wild thumping of Pierre’s heartbeat.

He lifted his fingers to her neck, circling them around the back so that his thumb ended near her ear. With exquisite softness he brushed his thumb below her jaw against her pulse, which was throbbing.

She wanted to lean her head back and let his fingers have full access to her skin, but she was too weak, too powerless to do anything but relish the gentle touch.

His gaze lifted and connected with hers. Without breaking the contact, he tilted his head as if to kiss her. He hesitated for the merest instant, a flicker in his eyes seeming to ask her for her permission.

In answer, she could do nothing less than lean toward him. Didn’t he know by now that her heart was his for the taking, whether she wanted him to take it or not? It had always been his. She was only fooling herself to think otherwise.

His fingers at the back of her neck tightened and drew her toward him.

She wanted to kiss him, had always dreamed about kissing him. She couldn’t deny it any longer.