Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(52)

She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. She’d convinced Pierre they weren’t meant to be together.

Why then did she feel as though she’d just made the worst mistake of her life?



Pierre stood stiffly in front of Colonel McDouall’s desk in the man’s office. Across the hallway he could hear the dance instructor chanting the steps for a waltz, the rhythmical one, two, three and the tapping of a cane.

Even though he’d popped his head into the sitting room and smiled at Lavinia and Angelique and pretended to watch the dancing lessons with mirth, his heart was heavy—heavier than it had been in a long time.

He was trying to focus on the discussion between the colonel and his advisors, but his mind kept wandering to Angelique in the other room, to the rosy flush of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, to the beautiful red of her curls and the graceful way her body moved.

His proposal last week had been on a whim. It had slipped out without any thought or planning. He told himself he’d only asked her to marry him for her sake, to find a way to protect her when he had to go.

And for a day or two afterward he’d beaten himself up for even suggesting marriage. He felt embarrassed for how rashly he’d behaved. Yet whenever he saw Angelique, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about marrying her, though he knew he shouldn’t.

She’d said no. And her reasoning had made sense, hadn’t it?

He’d been foolish to bring it up, and he’d been doing his best to put the silly proposal out of his mind. He’d tried to erase all his desire for her and replace it with the friendship they’d always had.

But every time he saw her, his longing for her only increased. He wanted her—wanted to kiss her, wanted to hold her, to run his hands through her hair and over her cheeks. He was surprised at the intensity of his physical reaction to her. But the emotional connection was just as strong too. He loved being with her, loved their laughing together and how they could talk endlessly, how they could do anything and still have fun.

The longer he stayed on the island, the harder it was getting for him to think about leaving her. The only way he’d survived the past week was to make sure he didn’t spend time with her. That hadn’t been too much trouble since she’d been busy with her lessons with Lavinia, had helped Lavinia distribute invitations for the dance, and was overseeing the cleaning of the government house. The house had a large room, often used for meetings, but now it was being transformed for the dance.

“Perhaps we should set out down Lake Huron and meet the Americans on their way up here,” suggested a sergeant sitting in one of the chairs surrounding the imposing desk. The cigar smoke cast a haze over the room. The smoke, the stone walls, the dimness of the room all pressed in on Pierre, suffocating him, making him wish he hadn’t come to this meeting.

“We can’t keep putting off this confrontation,” continued the officer. “Our soldiers are growing weary of waiting.”

It was past the midpoint of July and the Americans still hadn’t attacked. Pierre couldn’t let his frustration show, but it nagged him night and day. He could only assume the American commander hadn’t received his messages about the need to attack with all haste.

Now Fort George was done. With the help of the civilians, Colonel McDouall had completed the structure, which was really nothing more than an observation post since the place lacked its own water supply. But it would certainly discourage the Americans from attempting to retake the main fort from the rear.

“Maybe the Americans are trying to wear us down with worry,” suggested another officer. “They’ll wait long enough until we think we’re safe, and then they’ll attack.”

A number of officers murmured their agreement.

“Durant,” the colonel said in his Scottish brogue, narrowing his eyes on Pierre, “how far away is the American fleet? What have your sources told you?”

Pierre leaned against the cold wall, hoping to appear more nonchalant than he felt. “My sources say the Americans aren’t anywhere near here yet.”

That much was true. His connections had finally told him the American fleet had been delayed because of a disagreement over who was to be in command. At first, Major Holmes had been chosen, but eventually the command had gone to Colonel Croghan, a twenty-two-year-old Kentuckian. Pierre wanted to shake his head every time he thought about such a young man leading seven hundred American soldiers.

The last he’d heard, the fleet was planning to leave Detroit in early July. But he couldn’t be sure when or even if they’d set sail. Whatever the case, it could only help the American cause if the British sailed down into Lake Huron for a naval battle. If so, the British would leave the island mostly undefended.

“The Indians are getting restless,” he said carefully. He knew he couldn’t sound overanxious for the British to leave. “I’ve heard rumors they’re planning to depart for their hunting grounds if they don’t have the bloodshed they’ve been waiting for.”

The colonel nodded as he steepled his hands beneath his chin. “They are more than ready for a fight,” he concurred.

Another officer blew out a great cloud of cigar smoke. “Then I agree. We should set out down the lake and meet the Americans on the way up. It would put an end to all the waiting.”

“And it would be an offensive move rather than defensive,” said another.