Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(89)
He’d only been thinking about himself. And when he thought back over his life, he’d come to the conclusion that he’d spent most of his life focused on doing what he wanted without much consideration for anyone else. He’d made the majority of his decisions to please himself.
He was ashamed to admit that even his decision last summer to give up fur trading and stay on the island had been all about his need for Angelique. He hadn’t thought much of what Maman had needed, or even what Angelique needed. He hadn’t thought about what would be best for her, that maybe she wanted someone in her life more reliable, like Jean, and that maybe he had tempted her into cheating on Jean.
The honorable thing would have been to wait to pursue her until after she’d called off her engagement with Jean. He hadn’t been fair to her or Jean.
Jean hadn’t deserved to have him come onto the island and woo Angelique into his arms. Why had it taken him so long to see that?
The splashing outside the beaver lodge grew faint, and he allowed himself to breathe again, sucking in gulping breaths saturated with molding leaves and damp moss. He closed his eyes again, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer. The dark coldness of the hovel closed in around him.
Angelique didn’t need someone like him, someone who was constantly facing danger and death. Look at him now, curled up inside a beaver lodge, trying to outwit his pursuers.
He would have laughed at himself if he hadn’t been so cold and tired. Instead, for the first time in days, he allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep. And his last thought before weariness claimed him was that Angelique would be better off with Jean.
He only wished he’d realized that sooner, before he’d broken her heart.
Chapter
25
MAY 1815—EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Angelique wriggled her toes in the warm sand and gazed out over the harbor crowded with schooners, canoes, and rowboats transporting cargo between the ships and the shore.
The gulls flew low and circled above the recently thawed water, their sharp cries welcome after the long winter of isolation from the rest of the world. The voyageur songs mixed with laughter and swirled around her, turning her insides into a frenzy of nervousness and excitement.
She wasn’t looking for Pierre. She’d told herself she wouldn’t. She’d only come to watch the arrival of the Americans and to take news back to Miriam and Yellow Beaver.
Even though Angelique had promised herself that she wouldn’t look for Pierre, that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, she found herself narrowing her eyes upon several canoes moving across the lake from the mainland to the island. She held her breath, waiting for them to draw closer so that she could carefully study each form.
At a rough shove against her arm, Angelique lurched sideways into the crowds bustling along the waterfront.
“Ah, the fish lass” came the clipped voice that belonged to Lieutenant Steele.
Angelique’s stomach curdled at the sight of the loup-garou coming to a halt next to her. Of course the past winter hadn’t been overly harsh, and the lieutenant wasn’t skin and bones like he’d been last spring. Still, he’d been the one to torture and almost kill Pierre in the Black Hole. And because of that he’d always be a loup-garou.
His uniform was frayed, the red faded, and his body thin, as were those of the regulars following behind him carrying crates that the British were loading into the waiting tenders.
“Are you watching for someone, fish lass?” the lieutenant asked, his sharp eyes roaming over the docked boats. “Perhaps a tall, broad-shouldered voyageur with dark unruly hair.”
Was it that obvious she was searching for Pierre?
The sunlight blazed upon the lieutenant’s battered black hat, likely the same hat he’d worn the night of the dance last summer when the hat had been new and buffed and immaculate.
“I’m here for the same reason as everybody else,” she replied, pulling herself up. “Watching the arrival of the Americans.”
When the first ships of the spring had arrived at Michilimackinac two weeks ago, they’d brought joyous tidings that the Treaty of Ghent had been signed in December.
The war was over, had been over for the past five months. But because of their remote location and the ice that prevented communication with the outside world, the residents of Michilimackinac were some of the last to hear the good news.
The treaty provided that the Americans and British give up the territory that had been conquered during the war. After three years of inhabiting the fort and controlling the island, the British would finally have to leave.
The American ships had arrived yesterday. Miriam had sent Angelique repeatedly down to the harbor to find out if Jean was returning with the other islanders who’d been forced to leave at the beginning of the war.
One boat of civilians had already come ashore that morning, among them a young graceful lady whose beauty reminded Angelique of Lavinia. Only this woman had been dressed much simpler, as if she had the intention of adjusting to island life rather than trying to make it adjust to her. Eventually rumors had sifted toward Angelique that the lady was the daughter of the American surgeon who would be stationed at the fort.
Amidst the unloading of American troops and goods, the British were retreating to their awaiting ships and readying to depart. As fort commissary, Lieutenant Steele was likely in charge of making sure all the British supplies were transported onto the ships. The British wouldn’t want to leave anything for their American enemies.