Captured by Love

by Jody Hedlund

  After several dances, she began to relax a little and enjoy being near Pierre. She focused on his lapel as he guided her around the floor. “Please don’t let anyone else dance with me, Pierre.”

  Pierre’s fingers lingered possessively on her waist. “Don’t worry. I’ve spread the word among the men that you’re mine. No one else gets to dance with you tonight.”

  “You did?” She relished the closeness of his body, the feeling of being protected by him.

  “They’re grumbling, but I promised a fist into the face of anyone who tried to take you away from me.”

  She smiled, not quite sure if he was teasing or being serious. “It’s a good thing you scared them all away, because I don’t want to be in anyone else’s arms but yours.”

  “Not even Jean’s?” Though he spoke the words lightly, they fell between them like a wall.

  Jean. Dear, sweet, safe Jean.

  “Pierre . . .” She paused. Why did Pierre have to show up after all these years and make her feel things that she’d never experienced with Jean?

  “I’m sorry, ma cherie,” he said, as if sensing the conflict warring within her. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him. That was insensitive of me.”

  She nodded and pulled away from him. “I think I could use a breath of fresh air.”

  “Please forgive me.” His fingers tightened on her waist.

  “I just need a minute to clear my head.” Even with all the windows open and the breeze blowing in off the lake, the room felt stuffy. She needed to get away from the crowds, Ebenezer’s glare, and the whispers and glances slanted at her. She needed a moment to think, to try to make sense of what was going on inside and the tumble of confusion over Pierre and Jean.

  Pierre began gently guiding her through the dancing couples. “There’s a grove of fruit trees behind the building.”

  “I’ll be fine by myself for a few minutes,” she said after they’d slipped out the back exit into one of the bigger vegetable gardens. She moved ahead of him toward the shade of the trees that bordered the large plot.

  When he started to follow her, she held up a hand to stop him.

  “I’m not leaving you out here unattended.” He reached for her hand and captured it in his, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to hold hands.

  “I won’t be able to think with you here.” She tiptoed past the winding vines of the bean plants, bunching a fistful of her gown to keep it from brushing the soil.

  “What do you need to think about?” he asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Please, let me help you.”

  “You can’t help me when you’re part of the everything I need to think about.” Reaching the shade of a large apple tree, she spun to face him. She knew she should send him back into the building, that she’d never be able to think straight with him standing before her.

  His head brushed against a low branch, and the twigs poked into his hair, finishing the job of tousling the locks he’d groomed. “Give me a try,” he said. “I might be able to help you more than you realize.”

  She didn’t dare look into his eyes, but instead peered at the calm, blue bay.

  He stared at the water too. Then he slipped his arm around her and drew her to his side.

  She held herself stiff only for an instant before leaning into him and laying her head against his shoulder.

  “This place is magnificent, isn’t it?” he said as a loon circled in the cloudless sky before dropping down and landing with ease on the water’s surface.

  “This island’s the best place in the whole world.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m right?” She’d been expecting his usual contradiction about how much he loved the island, but how he loved his adventures in the wilderness more.

  He turned to face her. The seriousness of his expression brought her pulse to a stop. “This is the best place in the whole world,” he whispered, “because you’re here.”

  “Pierre, please don’t—”

  “Let me finish before you tell me no again. If after hearing me out you still say no, then I promise to paddle away from the island at the end of summer and I won’t say anything about it again.” He reached for her hands and grasped them between his. “I can’t stop thinking about marrying you.”

  She began to tremble, and her knees grew weak.

  “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even work without thinking about wanting to be with you, Angelique.”

  She knew exactly how he felt, because it had been the same for her. As much as she’d tried to be normal with him over the past few weeks, she couldn’t pretend any longer.

  “I know you don’t believe I could ever give up my fur trading. I know you think that eventually I’d be unhappy here on the island.”

  “It’s true—”

  “No. Maybe it would have been true once upon a time with the old Pierre, the man I used to be. But it’s not true anymore, not since I repented and made peace with God. I’m trying to follow His plans for my life now. And maybe my papa was right about fur trading, that it only leads to the worst sins, that any godly man should stay as far away from it as possible.”

  She longed to agree with him. But every part of her resisted, because she knew she’d be lying to him. As much as she wanted him to stay, she knew she couldn’t make him stay by being untruthful. “Your father wasn’t right. Just because he let the fur trading corrupt him doesn’t mean you have to let it do the same to you.”

  Pierre started to shake his head, but Angelique went on, “You don’t have to give in to the temptations that come with fur trading. Your work doesn’t have to lead you into sin. In fact, you can be a good example to the other men and show them what it means to live for God.”

  He was quiet with a faraway look in his eyes. Was he picturing his brigade and all the voyageurs he led?

  “You’re a natural leader, Pierre. If anyone can go out there and make a difference, it’s you.” She didn’t want to convince him to return to the wilderness, but she couldn’t let him believe anything other than the truth about himself. “God gives us all different passions, and you love what you do. You don’t have to give it up, because He can use you wherever you are.”

  The music coming from the open windows of the government building drifted around them, blending with the gentle lake breeze that waltzed through the leaves overhead.

  At last Pierre faced her again and brought one of her gloved hands to his lips. Through the thin silk the warmth of his kiss sent a tingle up her arm. “Thank you for your honesty, Angelique. You’ve always encouraged me and believed in me. Since coming home, I realize just how much I’ve always needed it and loved it.”

  The wind teased one of his wayward curls, and she couldn’t resist reaching up and touching it. She wanted to peel off the constricting gloves and let her fingers slide through his hair with abandon. But she forced herself to do nothing more than smooth down the errant strand.

  At the soft pressure of her fingers, his gaze collided with hers, sending a spark across the short distance between them.

  “I know you understand how much I love fur trading.” He fingered one of the curls next to her ear, his knuckles grazing her cheek.

  “Fur trading is in your blood,” she whispered.

  “I won’t deny it.” He let his knuckles make a trail down her cheek to her chin. “But I’ve found something I love more than fur trading.”

  She held her breath and waited for him to speak the words she’d desperately wanted to hear from him.

  “I love you, Angelique.” The words became a caress as soft as his fingers on her face.

  The tenderness in his eyes told her that he desired her as a woman, that he wasn’t professing the love of a friend as he had the last time he’d spoken those words to her. Even so, she couldn’t allow herself to be mistaken again.

  “We’re friends,” she said slowly. “And I love you too.”

  “Friends?” His lips t
witched into a smile. “Is that all I am to you?”

  She waited, dared him to prove that his love was more than that of friends.

  With a growing smile he circled one hand behind her neck and laid the other against the small of her back. He drew her in closer until she was leaning into him.

  He dipped his head toward hers. With his cocky grin he teased his lips against hers with an agonizingly soft graze. He brushed first her bottom lip and then moved to her upper one. Her stomach quivered with each slow stroke until it fanned the fire within her, and she knew she couldn’t go another second without a kiss from him.

  She slid her arms around his neck, rose to her tiptoes, and shamelessly pressed into him so that he had no choice but to stop teasing her and give her a real kiss.

  He chuckled softly, as if he’d gotten the reaction he wanted. He then delivered what she’d longed for. His lips crashed against hers, meeting her passion with his own. He took her captive, letting his kiss linger until she could hardly breathe.

  He broke away from her all too soon and tilted his head back. Her knees buckled, but his strong arms held her against him.

  He smiled. “If you ask me, that seemed just a tad more than a friendly kiss.”

  “Only a tad more,” she managed to say.

  “Admit it. You love me too.”

  She gazed up into his eyes. “I love you, Pierre. I love you more than life itself.”

  “Then let’s get married,” he whispered. “There’s nothing stopping us. I want to stay with you on the island.”

  “What about your fur trading?”

  “Maybe it was once in my blood. But you’re all I want now.”

  With the truth of his words reflected in his eyes, she couldn’t think of a single reason to say no to him. She pushed aside all the nagging doubts. She didn’t want to say no to him ever again.

  “Say you’ll marry me,” he begged as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Pierre.”

  At her declaration, he pulled back. “You will?”

  The surprise and delight in his eyes brought a smile to her lips. “I will.”

  “You’re not just saying yes because I’m such a good kisser, are you?”

  She laughed. “Of course that’s why I want to marry you. What other reason could there possibly be?”

  “Oh, let’s see. Because you think I’m incredibly handsome, and sweet, and fun. And because I can cook the best stuffed whitefish in the world.”

  “And because you’re very conceited,” she teased.

  “That too.”

  His gaze held hers for a long moment, filled with longing. When he moved for another kiss, her lips quivered with the anticipation of it. He bent his head, and she parted her lips with a sigh, hungry for more of him.

  A flurry of shouts from the direction of the government house stopped Pierre short. He pulled back and glanced toward the back door, his brow crinkling.

  The music had ceased, replaced by harsh barking commands. The loud blast of the trumpet sounded from the fort and echoed over the town and bay. They looked to the bluffs and the cannons pointed over the front stone wall of the fort in perpetual readiness for an attack.

  Pierre’s countenance turned grave, and he reached for Angelique’s hand. “Come on. Something’s wrong.”

  As they hurried through the garden, her mind scrambled to make sense of the commotion and the shouts. By the time they made their way through the kitchen and back into the big room where everyone had gathered for the dance, Angelique was breathless.

  She ran into Pierre’s back when he halted in the nearly deserted room. Through the open front door they could make out the red coats of the British rushing up the path that led to the fort. Lavinia hurried away on the arm of Lieutenant Steele, the gold of her gown glinting in the evening sunlight.

  The musicians were hastily packing their instruments, while the remaining townspeople were busy gathering their belongings, their faces reflecting alarm. Ebenezer stood by the dessert table. He was filling his pockets with jam tarts.

  “What happened?” Pierre demanded.

  Ebenezer took a quick step away from the table and hid his hands behind his back. “The Americans are on the way.”

  “How do you know?”

  “An Indian messenger arrived with the news that the American fleet burned the British fort at St. Joseph’s to the ground and also seized and destroyed a North West Company ship full of trade goods over at Johnson’s Sault Sainte Marie post.”

  Pierre began to remove his tailcoat, his face contorted into a scowl. Angelique wished she could drag him back out under the apple tree and pretend that none of this was happening.

  He tossed his coat aside onto an empty chair and went to work on the cravat around his neck, yanking it as if it were choking him. “That means they’ll likely be here within a day or two.”

  “That’s what the colonel thinks,” Ebenezer said.

  “How many ships?” The hardness of Pierre’s tone sent a tremor of fear through Angelique.

  “Five schooners.”

  Pierre threw his necktie on top of his coat. He turned to Angelique, his eyes as steely as his voice. “I want you to go up to the fort and stay there with Lavinia in the officers’ quarters.”

  Everyone knew the building would be the safest place on the island during an attack.

  She started to nod, but Ebenezer shot her a look that silenced her. “She’s not going anywhere but back to the inn with me.”

  “She belongs in the fort.”

  “I’m in charge of her,” Ebenezer said. “I’ll say where she goes, not you. Especially when she’s dressed like a harlot.”

  Angelique gasped at the insult. Pierre growled and in two long strides crossed toward Ebenezer. He grabbed the man’s shirt at his chest, half lifting and half shoving him back into the dessert table. Several serving platters crashed to the floor.

  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 sh
uffled 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.