Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(60)

Pierre raised his fist and aimed it at Ebenezer’s face. His arms stretched the seams of his shirt, revealing the bulk of taut muscles beneath.

Ebenezer cowered, as if waiting for the first strike.

“Pierre, no!” Angelique called.

But Pierre had already swung. His fist came in contact with Ebenezer’s nose with a sickening crack.

Ebenezer cried out as blood spurted from his nose. Pierre pushed him up against the table harder and swung again. And again. With each punch Ebenezer wailed in pain.

“Stop!” Angelique screamed at Pierre.

But he pounded Ebenezer with unrelenting strength. Fear slithered into Angelique’s throat and constricted her breathing. He was going to kill Ebenezer if she didn’t stop him.

She threw herself at Pierre’s back. “Stop, Pierre. Please stop!” She latched on to his arm, wrestling him, heedless of the fact that she might get hurt in the process.

At the contact of her body against his arm, he froze. He sucked in a breath and tore his attention from Ebenezer. It took several seconds for his eyes to clear and to focus on her instead.

“Pierre, please . . .” she whispered, the desperation in her voice finally penetrating through his anger. “Let Ebenezer go. You won’t solve anything by hurting him.”

He glanced again at Ebenezer, who had crumpled to the floor. He was clutching the edge of his sleeve to his nose.

At the sight of the blood, Pierre staggered back and groaned. “What have I done?”

Angelique released her hold on his arm and found that she was shaking. “It’s all right,” she said, hoping to reassure him. But the truth was, the force of his violence had frightened her.

He wiped his arm across his eyes as if he could wipe away the sight of his brutality.

Angelique went to Ebenezer and knelt beside him. “I’ll walk him back to the inn and take care of his injuries.”

With a moan Ebenezer let her help him to his feet. Pierre didn’t make a move to stop her.

Ebenezer leaned heavily against her as she shuffled with him toward the door. The blood from his nose ran down his fingers into a rivulet on his arm, dripping onto her blue-green gown and streaking it.

As she stepped out the door, she waited for Pierre to say something—anything—but he’d hung his head and was letting them go.

Their beautiful moment alone in the garden already seemed like a dream. Had it really happened? Had he really told her that he loved her? Or had it all been just a mist that would soon disappear with the first rays of the morning sun?





Chapter

17



Pierre couldn’t see where he was going in the early morning fog as he paddled his canoe through the grayness. Instead he let instinct guide him. His innate sense of direction and intimate knowledge of the lake and island had always held him in good stead.

After days of storms, the rain had finally ended last night. He’d told the American Colonel Croghan if he wanted to attack, that morning would be the best time.

The mist still hung heavy, but it would burn away once the sun rose high enough. The British knew little about the island, and they wouldn’t realize the fog was lifting until it was too late and the American forces had already landed. At least that was what he’d planned with Colonel Croghan during his midnight trip off the island. It hadn’t been the first sleepless night over the past week and a half since the American fleet had shown up. In fact, he’d had too many to count.

Pierre was beginning to think Colonel Croghan and Captain Sinclair didn’t know what they were doing. They’d spent the first several days of their so-called frontal attack of the island exchanging harmless fire with the British. During the process, Captain Sinclair had learned that the American ships’ guns couldn’t be elevated high enough to enable them to hit the fort. The eighteen cannons on the Lawrence and the Niagara were practically useless.

If the gunfire could have reached the fort to bombard it, the Americans might have been able to retake the island within a day or two. Instead, the useless fire had fallen against the cliffs and gardens below. Thankfully no one had been hurt, since most of the residents had taken refuge inside the fort.

The morning after Lavinia’s ill-fated dance, when the British sentinels had sighted the American fleet moving toward Michilimackinac, Colonel McDouall had issued the orders for everyone to move up to the fort, and by sunset the village had been deserted.

Pierre let his paddle drag in the water, turning his canoe toward his usual hiding spot in the secluded area of the coast, where none of the British soldiers on patrol would be able to discover his treachery.

If anyone stopped him, he could always explain that he’d gone out to spy on the Americans. Colonel McDouall still believed he was working for the British. But since the dance, his friendliness had cooled considerably. Pierre hoped it had more to do with Lavinia than the colonel suspecting anything about him.

Of course Lavina had been upset that he’d danced with Angelique the whole time, that he hadn’t let any of the other men have a chance with her. And she’d probably complained to her father about him. He suspected the real reason she was offended was because he hadn’t made her the center of his attention at the dance. It hadn’t mattered that she’d had the undivided attention of Lieutenant Steele and nearly every other man on the island; she wanted his too.

At least she’d allowed Angelique and Maman to stay with her in the officers’ quarters. She might be a bit arrogant like many of her class, but overall she had a kind heart. She wouldn’t turn away anyone in need. He could rest easy on his missions knowing Angelique and Maman were both tucked away in the safest place on the island.