Rogue's Hostage

by Linda McLaughlin

  “It may be awhile until I can get free,” Etienne warned. “How is your lovely widow? Dare I hope you took my advice?”

  Jacques sighed. “No, I have not proposed. I do not know what to say.”

  Etienne shrugged. “You pledge your undying love. That is usually what they want to hear.”

  “But Mara is not like other women; she is practical.”

  “No woman is that practical,” Etienne said with a grin. “Tell her you love her. You do, don’t you?”

  Jacques rubbed a hand over his chin. “I am not a good judge of such things. I thought I was in love once before.”

  “Yvette.” Etienne sighed. “You must not judge all women by her, though I understand how you feel. It is not easy to trust again, eh?”

  “No, it is not,” Jacques said softly. He knew Mara was worth a hundred of Yvette, but did that mean he loved her? There was no question that he desired her, needed her, but…

  “I cannot lie to her,” he said. “I have too much respect for her to do that.”

  “Then bide your time,” Etienne advised. “When you are sure, ask her. And for God’s sake, don’t forget to tell her how you feel.”

  For a few moments Jacques stared after his brother, pondering these latest words of advice. He continued to brood over them as he walked back to the tavern.

  Tell her how you feel. But, how did he feel? He felt guilty for making Mara his mistress. She was a virtuous woman and should be treated as such. Yet, the truth was that he was afraid to propose.

  Afraid she would say no.

  *

  Gideon shuffled along the Quebec waterfront, confident of his ability to blend in with the sailors and townspeople. Instead of his usual bright scarlet uniform, he was garbed in a rough linen shirt, brown woolen vest and loose trousers. His yellow bag hose were fastened with woven red and blue garters that matched the sash around his waist. He wore wooden sabots that protected his feet from the mud of the street.

  By God, he had a talent for the spy business, he thought. His own sister would not recognize him.

  He still had hopes of finding Mara, though he had kept his word to Ned that he would take care of the Crown’s business first. The first day in Quebec, he and Ned had scouted the French positions as best they could from a distance, noting that the army had been working feverishly since news of the British fleet had reached town.

  In the evenings, they loitered in taverns, listening to drunken conversations. They learned that the French had begun digging entrenchments to the east, that the regular troops who wintered in Montreal were now encamped around the farmhouse Montcalm had chosen for his siege headquarters, and that seven or eight vessels were being converted to fire ships to give the British an especially warm welcome.

  When no one had given the rustic looking “farmers” a second glance, Gideon had grown bolder and begun asking questions, all in the guise of looking for a wayward wife.

  Ned warned him to be more careful, with vivid descriptions of a hanging he’d once attended back in England. But too exhilarated by their success, Gideon ignored him.

  Now, he and Ned had accomplished most of their mission. They planned to leave at dawn, which left only a few hours of daylight for Ned to make a reconnaissance into Upper Town and to allow Gideon a final attempt to find Mara.

  The last tavern he’d visited had finally turned up a lead. Once again he had played the part of betrayed husband, claiming that his pretty young wife had run off with a soldier by the name of Corbeau. The innkeeper had scoffed at him, saying that the only one he knew by that name was an officer, and not likely to be interested in the wife of a peasant. Besides, he had recently returned from Fort Duquesne and could not possibly be the right man. Gideon had insisted on checking for himself, and learned that Corbeau was part owner of a tavern called Le Diable.

  Gideon found it easily enough and made his way in. This time he sat and observed for a while. As taverns went, it was not too bad, he acknowledged grudgingly. At least the serving maids offered nothing beyond food and drink. Still, it was no place for a respectable woman like Mara.

  When a sailor sat down at the table across from him, Gideon opened up a conversation. “Good stew,” he remarked.

  The older man agreed. “Best food in Lower Town. Corbeau found himself a good cook.”

  “He did, indeed. Is Corbeau here by the way?” Gideon asked casually.

  The sailor waved his spoon to point to a table across the room. “The tall one,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  Gideon studied his nemesis. Garbed in a blue and red uniform, darkly handsome, and, in Gideon’s opinion, arrogant looking, Corbeau reminded him of a peacock. “The devil,” he muttered.

  The sailor looked at him quizzically. “Eh?”

  “I bet he’s a devil with the ladies.”

  The sailor grinned. “Not any more. Not since he came back from the wilderness with his new cook.”

  Gideon drew in a deep breath. The knowing look on the man’s face implied an illicit relationship between Corbeau and the woman. Surely Mara would never… It must be some other woman.

  But still he found himself asking, “What do you know about her?”

  The sailor shrugged. “Blond hair, blue eyes. Pretty as an angel. Claims to be Swiss.”

  Gideon’s heart began to pound. He had to get her out of here, away from that bastard Corbeau.

  Gideon threw a few coins on the table and left the taproom. Alone in the dark hall, he turned away from the door to the street. Treading softly on the bare wood floor, he began looking for the kitchen. He followed his nose to the far end of the building.

  Wonderful odors teased his nostrils—fresh-baked bread, simmering stew, and dried herbs—triggering memories of his childhood. He remembered sitting in the kitchen, his Latin grammar unread before him, watching as Grandmother taught Mara to cook. The kitchen had been the warmest, most welcoming room in the old manse, and one their grandfather had seldom deigned to enter. It had been Gideon’s haven. If only this kitchen were as safe.

  To his relief, Mara was alone. He took a moment to study her. She was prettily dressed in a blue skirt and red bodice. A snow-white linen cap covered her hair. At a glance she even seemed content, humming softly to herself as she sliced a loaf of bread, but surely that was an illusion.

  “Mara,” he called softly.

  She spun around and froze when she looked at him. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Do not be afraid,” he said pulling off his hat. “It is I, Gideon.”

  She let out a cry and ran into his arms. “Gideon, it really is you!”

  He hugged her to him, finally feeling that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. After all the months of worry, guilt and self-recrimination, he wanted to shout for joy. “Oh, Mara, how I have longed for this day.”

  She returned his embrace, but pulled back after a few minutes, a dazed look on her face. “How did you get here?”

  “It is a long story, but I came to Quebec to gather information.”

  “My God, you’re a spy,” she exclaimed, her hands gripping the front of his jacket. She glanced about, a frantic expression on her face. “You must leave. If they find you, they will hang you.”

  “I leave at dawn. But first I had to find you, see if you were all right.”

  Her face relaxed in a smile. “As you can see, I am fine.”

  “Thank God for that. Now, how soon can you be ready to go?”

  “Go where?”

  He took her by the shoulders. “With me, of course. Now that I have found you, I have no intention of leaving you.” He held her gaze with his. “What happened is all my fault. I should have made sure you were safe.”

  She shrugged away from his touch. “Gideon, you must not blame yourself. Grandfather would say it was God’s will, and perhaps it was. In any case, I am safe enough here.”

  “No,” he insisted. “The British plan to besiege the town. If they succeed in getting through the channel,
no one in Quebec will be safe. You must come with me.”

  “But,” Mara began, and then bit her lip.

  Gideon frowned at her. “What is it, Mara? Why do you hesitate? Is it because of him?”

  “You…you mean Jacques?” she stammered. “Yes, partly.”

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Has he forced himself on you?” If he had, Gideon thought darkly, he’d have no scruples about putting an end to the scoundrel. “I will kill him.”

  “No, Gideon.” She looked down at the floor, then at the fireplace, but would not meet his eyes. “Jacques has not forced me.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “But you have lain with him?”

  She just nodded.

  Stunned and sickened by her silent confession, Gideon swallowed hard as his stomach rebelled. His sister’s betrayal tasted like acid on his tongue. “God, Mara, how could you defile yourself that way? With a Frenchman.” He spat out the word. “And Emile scarcely cold in his grave.”

  “How dare you!” Her head snapped up and her voice rose. “Do not presume to judge me! You have no idea of what I have been through. I waited and waited for you, but you never came.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “It took me a while to raise the ransom. I had it in my pocket when we arrived at the fort, but it was too late.”

  “I know you tried, Gideon. Please, let us not quarrel.”

  “How could you?” he blurted out. “After what happened to Father, and to Emile? By God, how could you allow that cur into your bed?”

  She covered her ears. “Stop it! Stop saying such things.”

  Gideon forced himself to remain calm. “But why, Mara? Of all the men on earth, why did it have to be Corbeau?”

  Mara covered her mouth with her hand and forced back a sob. For the last nine months, Jacques had been the one constant in her life, the one person she could count on. The only one who made her feel safe. And the only man who’d ever let her make her own decisions.

  “Jacques understands me better than Emile ever did,” she said, with a sudden realization. “And he has been good to me.”

  Gideon just stared at her incredulously.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I cannot survive without some comfort, Gideon. I need some tenderness in my life.”

  He continued to stare at her. “I do not know you anymore.”

  She held out a hand. “Please, let us not part in anger.”

  His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then you will not leave with me?”

  “It is so sudden. I need time to think.”

  “Very well, Mara. I cannot force you to go, not without endangering my mission.”

  Mara winced at the bitterness in his voice. “Gideon, please…”

  He interrupted her plea. “If you change your mind, meet me outside the Golden Lion at dawn.”

  She glanced around again, aware of the danger he was in. “I may not be able to get away. Promise you will not wait for me.”

  “I won’t.” He took her hands in his, squeezing them tightly. “Think long and hard, Mara. The real danger is just beginning.”

  She blinked back tears. “Be careful, brother.”

  “What the devil is going on here?” an angry voice demanded.

  Mara let go of Gideon’s hands and whirled to see Jacques standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. She swallowed, unable to speak, but Gideon was not abashed.

  He smiled as if he had not a care in the world. “Ah, Lieutenant Corbeau, I was just complimenting your cook on her fine stew. In fact, I was so impressed, I asked her to run away with me.”

  Mara’s pulse raced faster. Had her brother lost his senses completely? “La, monsieur, how you jest,” she exclaimed, trying not to sound terrified.

  Jacques walked over to her, his brows drawn down in a fierce frown. “Has this fellow been pestering you? It would be no trouble at all to throw him out.”

  “As I am just leaving,” Gideon said, sidling toward the door, “that will be unnecessary. Adieu.” With that he disappeared into the hall.

  Jacques touched Mara’s face. “You are so pale. Are you sure you are all right?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Yes, I was just startled by what happened.”

  He scowled toward the doorway. “The nerve of the man! Who was he? How did he know my name? Perhaps I should follow him.”

  “No!” she cried, grabbing hold of his arms.

  “What is it, Mara?”

  She started babbling, anxious to make him stay. “Do not leave me. I will feel much better if you are here. Please, Jacques.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Hush, mon coeur. If you want me to stay, I will for now, but you know that I cannot always be here to protect you.”

  She clung to his warmth, suddenly chilled despite the warmth of the kitchen. “I understand.”

  “I am not sure that you do. The town is full of rabble in the guise of militia, not to mention the Indians. I do not want you to go out alone. If I am not here, then get Victor to go with you. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” Mara said, hugging him tightly.

  Oh, if only Gideon had come sooner, before she had come to care for Jacques. She had not expected to have to choose between her brother and her lover. Common sense told her to leave while she had the chance, but how could she leave Jacques without an explanation? Yet, she dared not endanger Gideon. Dear God in heaven, what should she do?

  She was trapped once more—hopelessly caught between two men who hated each other, unable to choose one without destroying the other.

  Chapter 16

  Jacques heard Mara slip out of her room before dawn. He lay unmoving until he heard her light tread on the stair.

  She was leaving him.

  He had slept alone last night for the first time in weeks. Though his first impulse had been to take her into his bed and make love to her with all the tenderness he was capable of, his pride would not allow it. He would not beg.

  Yesterday when he had caught her holding hands with that vagrant, he had been shocked, but he had accepted the stranger’s explanation. Now doubt and anger roused him. Could it be she was no better than Yvette, after all? Why would she be sneaking out so early if not to meet another man?

  He had known Mara would not stay with him forever, but he had never expected her to run off with the first man who came along and offered her…What? What in heaven’s name had he offered her? Money? No, that was unthinkable. Marriage, perhaps. Respectability.

  Jacques sat up wearily, rubbing his hands over his face. His memory plagued him with every wrong he had done to her. He had taken her freedom, terrorized and humiliated her, and then seduced her. It was no wonder she had left him at the first opportunity.

  He climbed out of bed and dressed hurriedly. Stopping in her room, he noticed that her new dresses still hung in the armoire. Perhaps she had not intended to leave. At least not yet. But why else would she steal out early in the morning after promising him she would not go out alone? He was a fool to care, but he had to follow her.

  Pale mist from the river shrouded Lower Town, but it was easy to follow the imprint of her wooden shoes in the muddy streets. Jacques trailed her for half a mile to the Golden Lion, a waterfront tavern. She stopped, and a man stepped out of a doorway to meet her. It was the same fellow he’d caught her with yesterday.

  When she ran into the man’s embrace, it was all Jacques could do to stand and watch. Jealousy and resentment burned inside his breast. What an act she had put on! Always so prim and proper.

  Jacques took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising tide of anger inside. Who could that man be? Was it someone she knew, another captive from the English settlements? No, he had spoken fluent French. Like her brother… Jacques peered through the fog, trying to get a better look at the man. But, no, the idea of a British soldier in Quebec was absurd.

  They were arguing now. Jacques strained to listen, but could not distinguish the words. At last the man threw up his hands and
stalked off. To Jacques’s utter surprise, Mara turned and headed back to the inn, her shoulders slumped.

  What the devil?

  *

  Jacques was waiting for Mara when she returned to her room in the tavern.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded. He stood with arms folded across his chest, and the tenseness of his jaw betrayed his anger.

  “I, uh…” She tried to think of an explanation. “I could not sleep so I went for a walk.”

  “To the Golden Lion.”

  “You followed me.” Dear Lord, had he been watching as she bade farewell to Gideon? What would he have done had she tried to leave the city? She moved to the other side of the bed in an attempt to put some distance between them.

  Jacques followed her. “What happened? Did your farmer send you away? Or are you meeting him again later?”

  A sob caught in her throat as she said, “I do not know when I will see him again.”

  Jacques swore softly. “So you do care for him.”

  She made no denial, just stood mutely staring at the floor.

  “Have you enjoyed making a fool of me, madame?”

  “Oh, Jacques, no!” She looked at him and realized that he was more hurt than angry. He had every right to feel betrayed, but she had dared not tell him the truth for Gideon’s sake. Not until he was safely away from Quebec.

  Jacques moved closer to her, until he was towering over her. “I never thought you would betray me. If someone had told me you would even consider running off with the first vagrant who came along…”

  “You don’t understand.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I understand all too well. Fool that I was, I believed that you were different than the other women I’ve known. Always the little Puritan. So good, so virtuous. You are quite the actress, Mara. You should go on the stage.”

  “No, it’s not like that at all.”

  “Then explain it to me. I am ready for the next act. Is this when you tell me that he means nothing to you? How far will you go to convince me?” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did he promise you? Money? Security?”