Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(57)

The double doors stood wide open, the numerous windows as well. The spacious first-floor room was already crowded. All the furniture had been removed, except for a few chairs along the side and a long table laden with refreshments. A group of soldiers with a variety of instruments had formed a makeshift orchestra at one end of the room.

Angelique wanted to hide in a corner, especially when she saw Ebenezer filling a cup with spiced cider. Of course he hadn’t allowed Betty to participate in “the lewdness,” his description of the dance. He never let the girl go anywhere, especially now that she needed to take care of the son she’d borne him.

Lavinia pulled her away from Pierre and circled around the room with Angelique in tow, apparently determined to show her off to everyone. Angelique tried to ignore the openmouthed astonishment of many of the islanders who’d always scoffed at her. And she forced herself not to shiver when Lavinia paraded her in front of the officers, including the colonel.

The interest and lust that flared in the eyes of some of the men reminded her too much of the way men had looked at her mother. Her mother, however, had flaunted her beauty, enjoyed the attention of the men, and hadn’t been able to resist the flattery. Surely Angelique would never sink so low. At least that was what she told herself as she tried to ignore the warning bells that sounded in the back of her mind.

Angelique was grateful when Pierre came over to her, linked his hand with hers, and glared at any man who stared at her too long.

She began to despair that Lavinia would never tire of the praise for her charitable efforts. Then when the orchestra started to play, Lavinia finally left her in peace. Angelique stumbled through the first waltz with Pierre, feeling exposed and awkward, aware of all the attention upon her. It came as no surprise to discover that Pierre was a graceful dancer, and he was good about smoothing over her mistakes.

Ebenezer stood next to the refreshment table talking with the island doctor. Although he kept himself busy tasting the delicacies on the table, she could sense his disapproval.

After several dances, she began to relax a little and enjoy being near Pierre. She focused on his lapel as he guided her around the floor. “Please don’t let anyone else dance with me, Pierre.”

Pierre’s fingers lingered possessively on her waist. “Don’t worry. I’ve spread the word among the men that you’re mine. No one else gets to dance with you tonight.”

“You did?” She relished the closeness of his body, the feeling of being protected by him.

“They’re grumbling, but I promised a fist into the face of anyone who tried to take you away from me.”

She smiled, not quite sure if he was teasing or being serious. “It’s a good thing you scared them all away, because I don’t want to be in anyone else’s arms but yours.”

“Not even Jean’s?” Though he spoke the words lightly, they fell between them like a wall.

Jean. Dear, sweet, safe Jean.

“Pierre . . .” She paused. Why did Pierre have to show up after all these years and make her feel things that she’d never experienced with Jean?

“I’m sorry, ma cherie,” he said, as if sensing the conflict warring within her. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him. That was insensitive of me.”

She nodded and pulled away from him. “I think I could use a breath of fresh air.”

“Please forgive me.” His fingers tightened on her waist.

“I just need a minute to clear my head.” Even with all the windows open and the breeze blowing in off the lake, the room felt stuffy. She needed to get away from the crowds, Ebenezer’s glare, and the whispers and glances slanted at her. She needed a moment to think, to try to make sense of what was going on inside and the tumble of confusion over Pierre and Jean.

Pierre began gently guiding her through the dancing couples. “There’s a grove of fruit trees behind the building.”

“I’ll be fine by myself for a few minutes,” she said after they’d slipped out the back exit into one of the bigger vegetable gardens. She moved ahead of him toward the shade of the trees that bordered the large plot.

When he started to follow her, she held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not leaving you out here unattended.” He reached for her hand and captured it in his, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to hold hands.

“I won’t be able to think with you here.” She tiptoed past the winding vines of the bean plants, bunching a fistful of her gown to keep it from brushing the soil.

“What do you need to think about?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“Please, let me help you.”

“You can’t help me when you’re part of the everything I need to think about.” Reaching the shade of a large apple tree, she spun to face him. She knew she should send him back into the building, that she’d never be able to think straight with him standing before her.

His head brushed against a low branch, and the twigs poked into his hair, finishing the job of tousling the locks he’d groomed. “Give me a try,” he said. “I might be able to help you more than you realize.”

She didn’t dare look into his eyes, but instead peered at the calm, blue bay.

He stared at the water too. Then he slipped his arm around her and drew her to his side.

She held herself stiff only for an instant before leaning into him and laying her head against his shoulder.