Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(50)

While she eagerly awaited the day when she could be away from Ebenezer, she wasn’t at liberty to leave him yet. “You know I have to return.”

“Non. You’re not returning.” His words had a finality that pushed Angelique up in her chair.

“And just where am I to go?”

“You can live here.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t matter to you if your reputation were tainted, but what about mine? What would everyone think if I lived with you?”

“I’ll move out. I’ll sleep on the beach with the Indians or find lodging at one of the inns.”

Could she live with Miriam? But as rapidly as the flicker of hope flamed, she doused it with the reality of her situation. “And when you leave? What will happen then? Ebenezer will find a way to punish me for turning against him.”

“I’ll make sure he knows he’s done with you, that you’re no longer his concern.” Pierre crossed the cabin with the pan of hominy and placed it at the center of the table. Steam wafted out of the bubbling holes in the golden brown crust.

Angelique breathed in the tantalizing aroma, and her empty stomach gurgled.

Miriam gave a sad sigh. “Pierre, you’re very kind to want to protect Angelique, but I’m afraid Ebenezer is more conniving than you realize.”

“Not with me.”

From the shadows on Miriam’s face, Angelique had the feeling her friend was remembering what had happened to Therese the same way she was.

“Therese ran away,” Angelique said through a constricted throat. “But Ebenezer gave her to one of the voyageurs staying at the inn anyway. He told the man where to find her and that she was his for the taking—for the right price of course.”

Pierre straightened from cutting the hominy into big slices. Furrows formed across his forehead.

“The voyageur found her easily enough. He tied her up, slung her over his shoulder, and tossed her into his canoe. He left the next morning, and I didn’t even have the chance to tell her good-bye.”

Pierre shook his head, fury beginning to glow in his eyes. “No one made an effort to stop him?”

“Since Ebenezer took care of us all the years after our mother died, how could anyone question his decision?”

“They had every right to stop him. Therese wasn’t an animal to barter.”

“She was of marriageable age.”

Pierre’s shoulders stiffened, and his face became a mask of anger.

Angelique held her hands out in surrender. “So you see why I can’t afford to earn Ebenezer’s disapproval?”

“I should just kill him.”

“Please, Pierre,” Miriam said softly. “God’s kept Angelique safe so far. In fact, it was a blessing, her living at the inn this winter. She had access to food and was able to share it with me.”

“He almost killed her today.”

“And don’t forget,” Miriam added, “Jean will be home soon, and they’ll be married—”

“Non.” The word filled the cabin with its vehemence.

Confusion flickered across Miriam’s face. “But you said you think the Americans will be able to retake the island this summer.”

Pierre turned away from them and paced to the fireplace. His shoulders slumped, and he was quiet for several long seconds, staring into the flickering flames. At last he said, “I don’t know if the Americans will be able to win the battle. Every day they wait to attack, the British forces grow stronger. More Indian allies are arriving at the island, and now that Fort George is almost done . . .”

Miriam sat back in her chair and folded her hands. Angelique recognized it as the sign she was praying.

Pierre leaned against the mantel and bowed his head. From the way he was talking, it almost sounded as if he hoped the Americans would win. Whose side was he on? He hadn’t wanted to talk about it with her, and she’d wanted to trust him, like she always had, that he was doing what was best even if she didn’t completely understand.

“We’ll be fine, Pierre,” she said, wanting to offer him a measure of comfort.

He didn’t say anything, and the tension radiating from his back was almost as thick as the humidity filling the small cabin.

He spun around and faced her. “Marry me, Angelique.”





Chapter

15



Angelique froze.

Miriam’s silent prayer turned into an urgent whisper.

“Oui,” Pierre said as he stepped away from the hearth, the tension easing from his face. “Angelique can marry me.”

Angelique stared at Pierre, her mind swirling with disbelief.

Pierre crossed the room toward her, his boots clomping with a confidence that chased away her shock. He dropped to one knee before her. The determination etched in his expression sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

When he reached for her hand and folded it between both of his callused hands, her heart lurched. He wasn’t serious, was he?

A grin tugged his lips. “Let’s get married.”

She studied his face. His smile faded, replaced with a longing so ardent it almost took her breath away. With uncharacteristic seriousness, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed the gentlest of kisses there. “Angelique MacKenzie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”