by Jody Hedlund
Pierre held his breath and prayed Ebenezer hadn’t heard that Lavinia was suffering from the fever and ague. With the onslaught of mosquitoes, the poor girl was languishing even with doses of quinine to ease her discomfort. Despite her illness, Lavinia had wanted him to bring Angelique to the fort. But only because she was having her tailor make some adjustments on a gown she wanted Angelique to wear to her big dance.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Pierre opened the door. “I wouldn’t want to be you when Miss McDouall complains to her father. The colonel has been rather tense lately as he’s preparing for the upcoming attack, and he won’t appreciate having to deal with his daughter’s frustration.”
He didn’t wait for Ebenezer’s response. Instead he stepped through the door. Every muscle in his body protested having to walk away. And he resolved that if Ebenezer didn’t release Angelique from her attic prison, he’d go back to his old tactics—beat the man senseless, force his way inside, and physically remove her.
As he walked away from the inn, the oppressive humidity weighed on him, drenching him, almost as if the lake and the sky had traded places.
“Wait!”
At Ebenezer’s call, Pierre expelled a long breath. He forced himself to count to five before turning around. Ebenezer stood in the open doorway of the two-story whitewashed inn, his shapeless gray shirt clinging to his perspiring body.
“I suppose you’re right,” Ebenezer said with a frown. “I don’t want to cause any further worries for the colonel, especially at a difficult time like this.”
Everyone was worried about the coming of the Americans. Most of the townspeople had even begun to store up food and supplies in preparation for whatever awaited them. Some expected the Americans to bomb the island from the harbor. Others suspected an all-out battle with forces landing and taking back the fort. Still others speculated the Americans would set up a blockade and attempt to starve the British off the island.
Pierre didn’t know what was going to happen any more than the islanders did. His communication with the Americans had been one-sided, with him delivering updates and not hearing anything in return.
“If I allow Angelique to go with you to the fort,” Ebenezer said, “then you must bring her back promptly.”
Pierre shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him, when in reality he wanted to yell at Ebenezer that he would never bring her back. “I don’t have anything to do with the time Miss McDouall needs for her lessons. I’m merely the escort.”
“I can always have her make up the discipline tomorrow.”
Pierre wished Angelique didn’t have to worry about any tomorrows with Ebenezer. “She’s a grown woman.” He couldn’t stop himself from defending her. “You don’t need to discipline her as if she were a child.”
“I’m her guardian. I promised her mother I’d provide a stable home for her. Someday she’ll thank me for taking such good care of her, for teaching her to obey the Commandments and protecting her from the shameful and sinful ways of both her mother and sister.”
The last thing Angelique would ever do is thank Ebenezer. But instead of contradicting the man, Pierre peered up at the hazy sun, pretending to check the time. “Since you’ve delayed Angelique’s lesson, you’d better not expect her back on time.”
Ebenezer muttered something under his breath before turning back to the tavern. Pierre followed him to the door and waited.
When Ebenezer returned to the dining room several minutes later, with Angelique moving slowly behind him, Pierre released a pent-up breath.
“Just because I’m letting you out of your room doesn’t mean you won’t finish your discipline when you return,” Ebenezer said before he stepped aside to let Angelique pass.
Her face was flushed and a loose tendril of hair stuck to her damp forehead. Her eyes were sunken and glassy, and when she looked at Pierre, she didn’t seem to see him.
Pierre’s pulse lurched to a halt. Angelique wasn’t well. What had Ebenezer done to her?
She took several more steps, but then swayed and grabbed the edge of a table to keep from falling.
Pierre darted toward her and reached for her arm. “Are you unwell?”
She didn’t answer except to latch on to him.
“She’s fine,” Ebenezer said. “She’s suffering the effects of her discipline, which is nothing less than what she deserves.”
Pierre crossed with her to the door. Angelique dragged her feet, until Pierre was afraid she would collapse. “No one deserves this kind of treatment!” he shouted at Ebenezer, fighting the urge to rush back across the room and use the man’s protruding belly as a punching bag.
Instead he swooped Angelique up in his arms and settled her gently against his chest. She gave a soft gasp but didn’t protest. He yanked open the door and stepped outside, tossing a glare over his shoulder at Ebenezer. “You can be sure Miss McDouall will hear about your treatment of Angelique. I’m sure she’ll be none too pleased when she discovers how cruel you’ve been.”
He took satisfaction at the anxiety that creased Ebenezer’s forehead before he slammed the door closed with as much force as he could muster.
“Angelique, ma cherie?” He gazed down at her flushed face. “Tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.”
“I need water,” she whispered through cracked lips.
Pierre knelt, cradling Angelique in his lap, and fumbled at his side for his leather canteen. He unplugged the spout and brought it to her lips.
She opened her mouth eagerly for the cool water, and he dribbled it in slowly. For several moments he helped her to drink, until finally she nodded. “That’s better,” she whispered.
“Don’t tell me Ebenezer refused you water for the past two days,” Pierre said as he situated his canteen back at his side, his fingers brushing against his hunting knife. “Because if you do, you’ll force me to walk back in there and stab him.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could see the truth written in her eyes.
The pompous pig had not only deprived her of food but also water. And in the sweltering heat of her attic room she could have died if Pierre hadn’t rescued her when he did.
His muscles tensed, and he uttered a growl. He started to lower her to the ground, knowing he had no choice but to go back to the inn and make sure Ebenezer could never hurt Angelique again.
But her arms snaked around his neck. “No, Pierre. Please don’t do anything rash. Please.”
He shook his head and tried to pry her arms off him. “I’m going to teach that man a lesson he’ll never forget.”
“You’ll only make things worse for me if you do.” Her brown eyes were wide now and the glassy look was gone, replaced with the clarity and openness he loved.
Pierre glowered at the door of the inn.
“I’ll be all right, Pierre. Especially now that I’m with you.”
He stood again, holding her tighter to his chest, refusing to let her go. His body almost ached with the need for vengeance. But the plea on her face made it impossible to say no. “Fine. Then I’m taking you home and cooking you a decent meal.”
She responded with a weak smile.
Angelique rested her cheek against the coarse linen of Pierre’s shirt. “I can walk, Pierre,” she said, but she knew her tone lacked conviction.
“Oh, so you don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you?” His voice had finally lost the fury that had frightened her and made her believe he would stalk back into the inn and kill Ebenezer.
“You’re such a weakling, Pierre.”
He hefted her higher. “You weigh absolutely nothing.” Anger slid back into his tone.
She wound her arms tighter around his neck, trying to block out the torture of the past couple of days when she’d been miserably hot and weak. Her mouth had grown parched, and she’d wavered in and out of consciousness. Of course Ebenezer hadn’t given her any food—he never did. But this had been the first time he’d left her without water too.
She’d never seen him as angry as he’d been when he learned she’d snuck out of the inn. Even though he hadn’t ranted or raved, the sharp anger in his eyes told her she’d gone too far this time, that putting his wife and newborn baby at risk had been unforgivable.
Had he wanted her to die? Was he ready to do away with her after being shackled with her all these years? Especially after Betty’s complaints against her? Angelique had heard every bitter word through the cracks in the floorboards. Betty had begged him to get rid of her, to marry her off as soon as possible.
She shuddered.
“The man’s a beast.” Pierre hugged her closer. “And a lunatic.”
For all Ebenezer’s faults, she couldn’t begrudge the fact that he’d provided for her since her mother’s death. If not for him, she would have been homeless. After mother was gone, Therese had talked about leaving Michilimackinac and going east to live in one of the big cities. But where would they have lived? What kind of work would they have found?
They’d been too young at thirteen and fourteen to make their own way in the world. So Angelique had begged Therese to stay. And she had.
Ebenezer had never once threatened them with having to leave. He’d never once complained about having them live with him, even though they were extra mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. Maybe he hadn’t been generous or kind or fatherly, but he’d provided security.
After the past years of sheltering her, she couldn’t accept the possibility that Ebenezer would purposefully kill her. It was too sinful. He’d marry her off first, just like he had with Therese.
But she wouldn’t let that happen.
Angelique nestled her nose into Pierre’s shirt and breathed in his scent—the woodsmoke and the herbs from whatever meal he’d made that morning for Miriam’s breakfast.
“Do you need more to drink?” His breath tickled her neck.
“I’m doing better now, thank you.” They’d already stopped several times for more water, and she was beginning to revive. She still felt weak and light-headed, but at least her senses were returning. She let her fingers brush against the curls of his hair at the back of his neck. The dark strands were thick and cool beneath her fingers.
Her heart began to race from his nearness. Even more than the fact that she was cradled in his arms was the knowledge that he’d cared enough to rescue her.
“Thanks for saving my life.”
“Any time. Don’t you know that’s my secret job? To rescue damsels in distress?”
Her fingers seemed to have a will of their own, and they trailed down his neck to his jaw to the scruffiness that always shadowed his face. She traced the strong line of his chin, relishing the tough bristles against her fingers.
His footsteps faltered.
She knew she should stop. She had no right to touch him with such familiarity. But gratefulness flowed through her along with something she couldn’t quite name, something sweet and aching at the same time.
“I suppose you require payment for your daring rescues?” she said lightly.
He stopped abruptly and tilted his head back so his eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a burst of warmth swirling around her stomach. The shade of the surrounding woods only added to the darkness in his depths.
For a moment Angelique could almost believe they were the only ones on the island, that they were supposed to be together and that this was their home. The thick moss on the rocks and trunks of the trees, the bed of daisies underfoot, and the tall ferns closed in on them like the walls of a cozy cabin.
His gaze dropped to her lips. “I can think of a payment I’d like more than anything.”
The huskiness of his voice stirred the warmth in her middle. She glanced at his strong mouth. The memory of the kiss they’d shared came back to taunt her, the sweetness and softness of his lips. She couldn’t deny that she’d thought of kissing him again.
And written across his face was the desire for another kiss as well. Slowly he bent his head toward hers.
She didn’t want to resist. She could feel her body tensing with the keen awareness of what was to come. But a warning blared from her past, the warning that she couldn’t allow herself to be hurt again.
“I can’t, Pierre,” she whispered, then turned her head and buried her face against his neck, needing to get away from the temptation of his kiss. But the salty dampness of his skin tempted her all the more. She pressed softly and realized that was a mistake as soon as her lips made contact.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Angelique,” he said hoarsely, “if you don’t want me to kiss you, you sure have a strange way of showing it.”
Embarrassment filled her, and she pulled her head away from his neck. For a long moment he stood unmoving, and she hardly dared to breathe for fear she’d lose her self-control all over again.
Finally he dragged in a shaky breath and started forward once more. Within minutes they reached the farm. He didn’t say anything as he carried her into the cabin and lowered her into a chair.
Miriam fussed over her as best she could, her gentle fingers soothing her skin and her kind words adding balm to Angelique’s confusion.
Although she wanted to ignore Pierre as he put together a salad of dandelion greens, wild mustard, and sorrel while the hominy cakes baked, she couldn’t keep from following every move he made. For once, she was glad Miriam couldn’t see her. Even so, Miriam grew silent and stared blindly at her from her spot across the table, as if she were trying to see straight into Angelique’s soul.
“What kind of man believes he’s helping someone by locking her in an attic?” Pierre was saying.
Angelique tore her attention from his back and the curls at his neck where she’d buried her fingers. “I suppose since he had such a hard time controlling Therese, he thinks he’s doing the right thing by making sure I don’t get into trouble.”
“No one can compare you to Therese. She always was selfish.”
Like her mother. The words echoed in Angelique’s mind, but she refused to give them voice. Angelique had always done her best to be the exact opposite of her mother. She guessed that was another reason why Ebenezer’s strict standards hadn’t been as oppressive to her as they’d been to Therese.
But what if she was more like her mother than she realized?
Pierre pulled the Dutch oven out of the glowing embers. “You’re not going back to that inn ever again.”
While she eagerly awaited the day when she could be away from Ebenezer, she wasn’t at liberty to leave him yet. “You know I have to return.”
“Non. You’re not returning.” His words had a finality that pushed Angelique up in her chair.
“And just where am I to go?”
“You can live here.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t matter to you if your reputation were tainted, but what about mine? What would everyone think if I lived with you?”
“I’ll move out. I’ll sleep on the beach with the Indians or find lodging at one of the inns.”
Could she live with Miriam? But as rapidly as the flicker of hope flamed, she doused it with the reality of her situation. “And when you leave? What will happen then? Ebenezer will find a way to punish me for turning against him.”
“I’ll make sure he knows he’s done with you, that you’re no longer his concern.” Pierre crossed the cabin with the pan of hominy and placed it at the center of the table. Steam wafted out of the bubbling holes in the golden brown crust.
Angelique breathed in the tantalizing aroma, and her empty stomach gurgled.
Miriam gave a sad sigh. “Pierre, you’re very kind to want to protect Angelique, but I’m afraid Ebenezer is more conniving than you realize.”
“Not with me.”
From the shadows on Miriam’s face, Angelique had the feeling her friend was remembering what had happened to Therese the same way she was.
“Therese ran away,” Angelique said through a constricted throat. “But Ebenezer gave her to one of the voyageurs stayin
g at the inn anyway. He told the man where to find her and that she was his for the taking—for the right price of course.”
Pierre straightened from cutting the hominy into big slices. Furrows formed across his forehead.
“The voyageur found her easily enough. He tied her up, slung her over his shoulder, and tossed her into his canoe. He left the next morning, and I didn’t even have the chance to tell her good-bye.”
Pierre shook his head, fury beginning to glow in his eyes. “No one made an effort to stop him?”
“Since Ebenezer took care of us all the years after our mother died, how could anyone question his decision?”
“They had every right to stop him. Therese wasn’t an animal to barter.”
“She was of marriageable age.”
Pierre’s shoulders stiffened, and his face became a mask of anger.
Angelique held her hands out in surrender. “So you see why I can’t afford to earn Ebenezer’s disapproval?”
“I should just kill him.”
“Please, Pierre,” Miriam said softly. “God’s kept Angelique safe so far. In fact, it was a blessing, her living at the inn this winter. She had access to food and was able to share it with me.”
“He almost killed her today.”
“And don’t forget,” Miriam added, “Jean will be home soon, and they’ll be married—”
“Non.” The word filled the cabin with its vehemence.
Confusion flickered across Miriam’s face. “But you said you think the Americans will be able to retake the island this summer.”
Pierre turned away from them and paced to the fireplace. His shoulders slumped, and he was quiet for several long seconds, staring into the flickering flames. At last he said, “I don’t know if the Americans will be able to win the battle. Every day they wait to attack, the British forces grow stronger. More Indian allies are arriving at the island, and now that Fort George is almost done . . .”