Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(63)
He’d been out communicating with the Americans. She was certain of it. Although she’d suspected he was spying and had figured that was why he’d been on the island that first morning he’d come back, he hadn’t made any mention of his allegiance to the Americans.
He’d played his role as a friend to the British flawlessly. She’d almost begun to believe he really was an ally with the British, especially after seeing the kind of relationship he had with Colonel McDouall and Lavinia.
Angelique took several steps toward the fort, trying to ignore the unease rolling around her stomach. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea that Pierre had been deceptive with the colonel and Lavinia.
While she knew those kinds of things happened in war, she didn’t want to believe Pierre would resort to lying, not now when he was attempting to live for God. And she didn’t want to think of the potential danger if the British learned of his treachery.
She let the lines of fish drop from her shoulders to the ground. With dread tapping a warning, she swung around and began to race after him. She didn’t know what she could possibly do to keep him from getting into trouble, but she couldn’t hide away in the fort.
When she reached the edge of the forest that bordered the Dousman farm, she stopped and listened, her breath coming in short gasps. The cannon fire had ceased and an eerie silence had descended over the island. To the east she heard the neighing of a horse and caught sight of a contingent of Redcoats near a ridge that overlooked the farm.
She hesitated. She didn’t dare cross the open field ahead. With a glance around, she spotted their thinking tree, the home to the great horned owls, the same cedar she’d climbed with Pierre earlier in the summer when he’d kissed her for the first time.
She made her way through the brush to the tree and began to climb it. The tree’s high branches would make the perfect hiding spot and also provide her with a lookout. She’d be able to see the distant northern shore and perhaps even be able to glimpse Pierre.
A whisper of caution urged her to retreat to the fort, where Pierre expected her to be. “I didn’t promise him I’d go,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll only stay for a little while, just until I make sure he’s not in danger.”
It didn’t take long for Colonel McDouall to arrive with more soldiers. They dug in on the higher ground, making quick work of chopping several trees and angling them against boulders to form a protective wall.
As the additional soldiers moved into view, Angelique shuddered. Almost every British soldier on the island had assembled for the battle. The colonel had obviously not left many to guard the fort.
On the opposite side of the farm in the woods that edged it, she caught sight of the United States Army moving among the trees, the sun glinting off their polished swords. When the soldiers finally began to move out into the open fields near Dousman’s farmhouse, Angelique released a pent-up breath.
The United States Army was at least double the size, if not triple. They would hopefully be able to outmaneuver the British. She strained to see Pierre. Would he be with the Americans or would he return to the British side and continue his charade?
As the Americans moved into two long battle lines, the British Royal Artillery opened fire. Angelique cringed into the trunk of the tree, covering her ears against the deafening noise. Smoke and dust clouded the air around the field, preventing her from taking stock of how the American forces were faring against the fire.
Her body tensed during the long minutes of waiting, until finally the haze cleared enough for her to see that except for creating some confusion among the American ranks, the fire had fallen short of the target. For a while the American artillerists returned the fire, but they were well off their intended targets too, and finally the cannons on both sides became silent.
Again Angelique peered through the smoke, studying both sides, praying for a glimpse of Pierre. Her stomach gave a low rumble from having skipped breakfast, and her backside was numb from sitting in one position for so long. While the evergreen branches fanned around her, providing cool shade, the stickiness of the summer day penetrated her hiding spot. It wouldn’t be long before she was hot and thirsty. Should she go now, while she still had a chance?
Her eyes swept over both sides one more time and came to rest on the broad shoulders of a man approaching Colonel McDouall, who was mounted on a horse well behind his soldiers.
She sat forward. The swaggering steps belonged to only one man. Pierre.
He halted before the colonel and spoke at length, motioning with an arm to the south, to the rear of the British position. Within seconds of their conversation the colonel shouted orders to one of the regiments and pulled part of his force away from the oncoming threat of the United States Army. He charged off with his men through the woods in the direction of the fort, leaving one of his captains in charge of the troops that remained.
What had happened? Had Pierre given the British troops information that would help or harm the Americans?
She wanted to believe he was helping the Americans, but she didn’t know what to think anymore. Pierre began to edge his way back into the woods, slinking away while the British were busy regrouping the remaining troops. Angelique watched his every move until he disappeared.
Her heart urged her to follow him, but at the snap of a branch below, she froze. There in the shadows of the trees she saw Indians, squatting among the trunks and hiding behind boulders.