Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(51)
Everything within her cried out yes, yes, yes. She would marry him this very day and be his forever. But the words stuck in her throat.
“Please say yes.” His eyes were filled with such certainty she could almost believe for an instant he really believed everything would work out fine between them.
Would everything work out? Pierre was always so confident about anything he set his mind to doing. And she’d always been willing to follow him wherever he led her. But could she blindly follow his plan this time? Miriam’s whispered prayers drifted over Angelique and somehow seemed to urge her to use caution.
If Pierre was willing to marry her, how could she say no? Her whole being yearned for him. In fact, she longed for Pierre with a passion she’d never experienced with Jean. It was a passion that had only grown stronger over the past month of their being together, a passion almost frighteningly like what she’d seen in her mother.
He lifted her hand to his lips again, and this time the heat of his breath, the pressure of his lips, and the spark in his eyes spoke of a longing within him that matched hers.
“Pierre,” she said breathlessly, slipping her fingers from his. How could she say no to him? She’d never told him no. She’d never needed to. Yet what he was asking was impossible, wasn’t it? “How can we get married?” She finally managed a coherent question through the avalanche of confusion. “I can’t—I won’t—ever leave the island, and you can’t stay.”
He sat back on his heels, his eyes pleading with her. “Let’s not think about the details right now. Let’s marry and figure out everything else later.”
She averted her eyes to block out his eagerness. If she looked at him any longer, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. The truth was she had to resist him this time, even though everything within her shouted not to.
“We can’t get married, Pierre.” The agony of saying the words wrenched her insides and twisted painfully.
“Oui, we can.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “You know as well as I do that our differences are too great. You belong to the wilderness and I belong here on the island.” He started to protest again, but she cut him off with a touch of her fingers to his lips. “I’d never be happy living out of a canoe. I know you don’t want that kind of life for a wife. And you’d never be happy living year-round on the island.”
He didn’t contradict her, though a part of her wished he would. The slow droop of his shoulders and the fading light in his eyes told her the reality of the situation was sinking in.
“If one of us sacrificed for the other,” she continued, “we’d eventually grow resentful. I could never bear the thought that you’d hate me for taking away something so important to you.”
“I’d never hate you, ma cherie.”
Maybe he’d never hate her, but he hadn’t said he loved her. Yes, he’d spoken those sacred words that long-ago day when she’d been just a girl. But couldn’t he say them now too? If he wanted to marry her because he loved her and couldn’t live without her, then let him say it.
She willed him to say it. Waited to hear the words.
Jean loved her. In fact, he’d always made it clear he adored her. How could she give that up for such uncertainty with Pierre?
“Oh, Pierre . . .” she whispered through her aching throat.
He was only reacting out of the danger of the situation today with Ebenezer. Once he had the chance to clear his head and see the situation with more objectivity, he’d realize he didn’t need to take such a drastic measure to keep her safe. Marriage was a serious affair, and he couldn’t offer it to her so that he could be her hero. He had to think about the long-term consequences. Besides, she’d already promised herself to Jean.
“What about my commitment to Jean?” she asked.
At the mention of Jean’s name, Pierre scowled. “Jean isn’t the type of man who can make you happy. And even if he was, you can’t tell me that you’ve ever felt with him what you’ve felt with me.”
Angelique couldn’t deny it. Jean had never stirred her blood the same way Pierre always had. But that didn’t matter. At least that was what she’d been trying to tell herself. Somehow at that moment her inner admonition didn’t ring true.
“Pierre, let’s be honest with each other,” she said, wishing he’d cross the room and put a safe distance between them, because even with Miriam in the room, the scruff on his cheeks seemed to beg her to reach out and caress it.
“Fine. Let’s be honest.”
“It won’t work for me to marry you.” She was surprised at how much it hurt to say the words. The pain cut deep inside, down into her soul, and she regretted saying them the instant they were uttered.
He didn’t speak. Instead a spectrum of emotions played across his face, until finally resignation settled there. He stood and took a deep breath.
Miriam had grown quiet. Had she been praying for her to marry Pierre or Jean? Had God answered her the way she’d wanted?
“If you must go back to live with Ebenezer,” Pierre said quietly, “the least I can do is make sure he won’t hurt you again this summer.”
She couldn’t ask what he had in mind or warn him not to do anything rash that might make things worse. She couldn’t speak past the disappointment clogging her throat. It rose swiftly and made her want to bury her face in her hands and sob.