Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(79)

Angelique huddled against the attic wall, her arms wrapped around her knees, her cheek against the smooth fabric of the gown Lavinia had given her.

The early morning slants of sunshine coming in through the cracks in the roof marked the eighth morning of her captivity in the attic and one more day that she was safe from marriage.

At least during this discipline, Ebenezer hadn’t starved her. He’d sent Betty with food and water twice a day. Surprisingly, Betty had been friendlier than she had since she’d arrived last fall. She’d kept her updated on the news, telling her about the end of the blockade, that starvation had been avoided, that companies of voyageurs were returning to the island, and the Indians were coming for their last gifts before returning home.

Angelique had no doubt Ebenezer was making sure all the returning men knew about her. It would only be a matter of days before one of the men decided he wanted a wife to take with him into the wilderness.

“I won’t go,” Angelique whispered into the darkness. “I’ll run away first.”

But she despaired every time she thought about Therese trying to run, only to be captured and forced to leave the island anyway.

Angelique buried her face in her arms. Once out in the wilderness, where could she possibly run? If she tried to sneak away from her husband, she’d only face the harsh elements and wild animals. She’d be trapped again.

Had Therese found the only true escape?

The ladder creaked, the signal of Betty’s morning ascent. Within seconds the lock scraped open.

“I have news,” Betty said, lifting the door and popping her head into the dormer room. Her head was covered in her usual mobcap and long collar pulled up to her chin. “Ebenezer has found you a husband.” Rather than a bowl of soup and bread, Betty came with a washbasin and towel. “My husband says you’re to make yourself presentable before you come down.”

“Very well,” Angelique said, waiting for Betty to leave. She wasn’t washing for anyone. If Ebenezer hadn’t taken away her everyday skirts, she would have changed into one first. She knew what he was doing. He’d left her in Lavinia’s gown because he wanted her to look appealing so that he could earn as much money from her as possible.

“He told me I wasn’t to leave you until I saw the job done.”

For a long moment, Angelique refused to budge.

“When Ebenezer decided to marry me, I didn’t have a choice either, you know,” Betty said, sliding the basin of water across the floor toward Angelique.

“I know.” Angelique sighed and reached for the tin bowl.

“I’ve had to learn to make the best of it.”

Why was Betty willing to be pleasant to her now on the morning she was being forced to marry and leave the island?

“Truth be told,” Betty continued, “I’ve grown to have affection for Ebenezer . . . even though he’s far from perfect.”

Angelique splashed the water on her face, wiping away the many tears she’d shed over the past week. Mostly tears at knowing she’d failed to save Pierre. She’d missed the chance to plead with Lavinia one last time for his life. At the thought of his death, her heart had broken over and over until there was nothing left.

It was too late for her to do anything. And now she was the one who needed saving.

“Maybe in time you’ll grow to love your new husband too,” Betty said.

Angelique started to shake her head, but Betty slid something across the floor toward her. A comb. The comb Jean had given to her.

She sucked in a breath. Was this some kind of trick? Was Betty tempting her to take it only to make her pay later?

“Go on. You can have it.” Betty crossed her arms.

Angelique hesitated.

“I want you to take everything with you so that there aren’t any reminders to tempt Ebenezer.”

The pain in Betty’s eyes reached across to Angelique. Did the young woman think Angelique’s leaving would end her problems with Ebenezer’s unfaithfulness? Was that why Betty was being so kind to her—now that she was no longer a threat?

“Thank you, Betty.” Angelique picked up the comb with its smooth ivory handle. With the comb as a peace offering between them, Angelique didn’t have the will to defy Betty’s instructions to clean herself up. She took pains to comb the tangles from her hair, but then stretched her cap across her head.

As she descended the ladder behind Betty, her legs shook with the need to retreat and hide. But there was no place left for her to go, and no one who could help her.

She followed Betty into the dining room, and at the sight before her, she shrank in horror. Standing near the doorway were two Indians, a fierce-looking man with his hair shaved on either side of his head with a strip running down the middle. Next to him stood an old Indian with stooped shoulders and a long gray braid. They weren’t covered in the war paint the Indians had worn on the day of the battle against the Americans. Even so, their dark eyes were cold, their expressions as unrelenting as stone.

“This can’t be right,” she whispered through a burst of panic.

“Oh, it’s right,” Ebenezer said from his spot at one of the long tables still slick with spilled rum and piled with dirty dishes. He didn’t bother looking up from the coins he was stacking in front of him. But his greedy smile spoke loud enough. He’d gained all he wanted and more out of the exchange, and there was no way he’d change his mind now.