Chapter
16
Angelique flattened herself against the wall of Lavinia’s room, not daring to look in the mirror to see the finished product—the effect of the hours of labor Lavinia had spent that afternoon preparing her for the dance. Instead she placed a hand over her mouth and kneaded her rolling stomach.
She was going to be sick.
How could she possibly step outside the door and face the world looking like this? Her gown cascaded about her in wave after wave of filmy silk. She slid her fingers upward over the finest, smoothest material she’d ever touched, until her fingers came to the high embroidered waistline that hugged her bosom.
She drew in a scandalized breath as she had every time she’d noted the starkly rounded curves that the drawstring of the bodice and the stays beneath had thrust upward until her bosom was fairly bursting from the broad, square neckline. She didn’t want to think about how much her gown resembled those her mother had once worn, but the thought came unbidden anyway.
With shaking fingers she tugged the bodice higher. Even though it wasn’t as revealing as the neckline of Lavinia’s beautiful golden gown, it was much too immodest for her.
After the years of wearing the shapeless high-collared clothes Ebenezer had required her to don, she felt almost naked.
“I can’t go out there like this,” she whispered to the empty room, to the discarded clothes strewn about among the ribbons, pins, and assortment of toiletries Lavinia had used to prepare them both.
If only she’d had the courage to tell Lavinia no. But over the past several weeks, as Lavinia had planned the dance and had the gown tailored just for her, Angelique had let the woman have her way. She’d gone along with the dance lessons, the instructions on how to hold herself like a lady, how to walk gracefully, how to eat properly, how to greet others, and even how to hold a fan.
Angelique hadn’t believed the day of the dance would actually arrive. She’d hoped the Americans would come first and put an end to the British presence on the island once and for all—in spite of Pierre’s reservations.
But no one had spotted even the slightest trace of the American forces. After nearly a month of preparing and laying up stores for a siege, both the British and the islanders had started to relax. As the hot days of July came to a close, some of the islanders had even begun to put aside the idea of an attack altogether. The summer would be ending all too soon on Michilimackinac. Why would the Americans attempt to take over the island and then leave themselves so little time to prepare for the long northern winter?
In fact, the mood at the fort that whole day had been festive, as if the British were already celebrating a victory. And Lavinia had been a flutter of excitement, declaring the dance to be the first civilized event of the summer. Even Ebenezer had been invited and had allowed Angelique to leave her duties early so she could ready herself for the dance at the fort with Lavinia.
Angelique lifted her hand to the curls next to her ears. Her head was bare of a cap, and Lavinia had piled Angelique’s hair on top of her head, leaving a few loose curls dangling. “To tease the men,” she’d said.
What would Ebenezer say when she showed up at the government house looking like a loose woman? Would he force her to return to the inn? Or would he bide his time and punish her later, when Lavinia left at the summer’s end, when he no longer had the pressure of trying to keep her from complaining to her father?
Pierre had followed through on his promise to talk with Ebenezer and had warned him that neither he, Lavinia, nor the colonel would tolerate any more cruelty. But what would happen when they were all gone? Who would protect her from Ebenezer’s anger then?
Angelique expelled a pent-up breath.
Why hadn’t she just married Pierre when he’d asked? She had mentally slapped herself a thousand times since the day she’d turned down his proposal. Maybe he’d been right not to worry about the details of the future. If they were married, surely they’d figure out a way to work things out so that both of them would be happy.
But he hadn’t brought up marriage again. Instead he seemed to be going out of his way to treat her like a friend. And she’d done her best to resume their friendly way of relating, especially since he’d obviously put thoughts of marrying her out of his mind. The ease with which he could do that startled her, even hurt just a little.
A soft rap on the door made Angelique jump. She reached for the gloves Lavinia had left for her on the bed and pushed a hand through the tight satin, wrestling the glove upward until it reached her elbow. With the short puffy sleeves of the gown, there was still too much skin on her arms showing. But what could she do about that now?
“Miss McDouall is waiting in the sitting room” came the voice of the girl who had been assisting them with their preparations. “She’d like you to join her so that you can walk over to the dance.”
“Thank you. Please let Miss McDouall know I’ll be right there.” Angelique’s fingers trembled as she worked the other glove over the stickiness of her palm.
She took in several deep breaths of the sugary-sweet perfume in the air and recalled the words Miriam had spoken many times over the past couple of years whenever her circumstances had grown unbearable. “‘He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved.’”
Angelique wanted to believe God was as solid as a rock, as reliable as the limestone bluffs that hedged the island, and that He was a fortress as safe and secure as Fort George up on the highest hill. But after she’d been forsaken so many times in her life, how could she trust that He wouldn’t leave her eventually too?
With a final tug on each glove, she spun to face the door, opened it before she could change her mind, and stepped into the hallway.
Voices and laughter came from one of the rooms down the long hallway that ran through the center of the officers’ building.
Her heart quavered, but she forced one foot in front of the other until finally she reached the open doorway of the sitting room.
Lavinia, in all her golden glory, was perched on the edge of the settee. She smiled at Lieutenant Steele, who sat on one of the wing chairs next to her. He was dressed in his best uniform, his white pantaloons spotless, the buttons on his red jacket gleaming, the felt of his black hat brushed until it shone.
Another man stood on the other side of the settee with his back to the door. A navy tailcoat stretched taut across his wide shoulders, its long tails falling over gray pantaloons. His dark wavy hair had been combed into submission, although a curl here and there had revolted.
Pierre?
As if she’d spoken his name aloud, he turned. His ebony eyes rounded with first surprise, then wonder.
She smiled at him shyly.
At the sight of her, Lavinia stopped speaking mid-sentence and smiled. “There you are, Miss MacKenzie. I was beginning to think I would have to come after you myself.”
Lieutenant Steele rose but gave her only the briefest of glances before he held out a hand to Lavinia.
“Does she not look wonderful?” Lavinia asked as she accepted the quartermaster’s assistance to her feet.
“No one can compare with you tonight,” Lieutenant Steele replied. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to take my eyes off you to look at anyone else.”
Lavinia’s laughter tinkled through the elegant room, her delight in his compliment bringing a flush to her cheeks.
“You must at least look at Miss MacKenzie,” she insisted. “Especially after all my hard work and the weeks of grueling effort to transform her into a lady.”
The lieutenant glanced at Angelique and made a show of perusing her before turning his attention back to Lavinia. “You’ve outdone yourself, Miss McDouall. I do believe you’ve effectively erased all trace of the fish lass, even the smell.”
Lavinia gave another laugh. “Pierre, what do you think of all my hard work in transforming Miss MacKenzie?”
Pierre’s attention hadn’t budged from Angelique. A silky white cravat tied about his neck couldn’t hide the motion of his hard swallow. “She’s stunning.”
Angelique’s lips trembled into what she hoped was a semblance of a grateful smile.
“I knew it.” Lavinia clapped her hands together and stared at Angelique as if she were a masterpiece she’d finished painting. “I just knew I could do it.”
“She’s as beautiful as always,” Pierre said, finally seeming to find his voice. “I don’t think you’ve transformed her, Lavinia. You’ve only helped to uncover the beauty that’s been there all along.”
Lavinia’s lips turned into a playful pout. “Why, Pierre, you are always the charmer, aren’t you?”
The sourness in Angelique’s stomach welled up. She’d known she was only a summer project for Lavinia, one of her many charity efforts. Is this what she was to face all evening? Would everyone see her only as Lavinia’s project and offer compliments on Lavinia’s behalf while secretly harboring pity?
She started to back into the hallway. How could she endure the dance? It was all wrong. She was all wrong. She didn’t belong in the gown, in the gloves, with her hair sitting atop her head like a jeweled crown. It was all just one step down the hill to becoming too much like her mother.
At her movement Pierre started toward her with quick steps. “You’re right, Lavinia. I can be a charmer when I want to be. But I’m always honest. I never say anything I don’t mean.”
His eyes beckoned Angelique to stay. In his gentleman’s attire he was more dashing than she’d ever seen him. And yet, even though he was clean-shaven and wearing the latest fashion, an air of ruggedness hovered about him that he couldn’t shed. It was the same dark wildness that she’d always loved about him.
Her footsteps faltered.
“The truth is I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as Angelique.” He continued toward her. “And she’s even lovelier on the inside.”
His words were as powerful as the adoration brimming from his eyes. They reached across the distance and soothed her. The sweetness of them overpowered the uncertainty roiling inside. He was a good and loyal friend, and she was grateful for him.
Lavinia glanced between her and Pierre. “You are rather savage and uncivilized yourself, Pierre,” she said with a forced laugh. “With your breeding and background, we certainly cannot rely on you to be the expert in beauty.”
Pierre came to a stop only inches away from Angelique. “I know real beauty when I see it.”
“Thank you, Pierre,” she whispered, drawing hope from his kindness. Even if he was a charmer and had said the same thing to a hundred other young women, at least he was doing his best to ease her discomfort. And she loved him for it.
She loved him.
The truth sank deep inside like a precious gemstone.
Yes, she truly loved Pierre. And not just for his kindness at that moment, but for everything. She loved everything about him.
Her chest swelled with the knowledge, and it brought a smile to her lips. The love rolled around, warming her insides. She’d let herself fall in love with him that summer even though she’d warned herself to guard her heart.
Or maybe she had always loved him but had just been too afraid to admit it.
But she couldn’t deny it any longer. She could only stare up at him, sure that he could see the glow of her love. How could she hide it? Did she even want to?
“Well, gentlemen,” Lavinia said, starting across the plush rug at the center of the sitting room, “shall we depart?”
“I’m ready.” Pierre’s eyes warmed to the color of coffee, and his attention shifted to Angelique’s lips.
“Lieutenant Steele, you may escort me to the dance.” Lavinia’s voice contained a petulance that Angelique hadn’t heard there before. “I am apparently not beautiful enough for Pierre.”
Pierre tossed a grin over his shoulder at the young woman. “Since I’m such an uncivilized savage, Lieutenant Steele is the better choice anyway.”
Lavinia gave him a coy sideways look as she slipped her hand into the crook of Lieutenant Steele’s arm.
The lieutenant’s brows had furrowed together in a dark line, and he glanced at Pierre as if he were a pesky fly he’d like to squash.
Pierre bowed with an exaggerated flourish and waved for the couple to precede him into the hallway. Then he offered his arm to Angelique.
She slipped her gloved hand into the curve of his muscles. His solidness seeped into her and gave her fresh courage. With him at her side, maybe she could find the strength to survive the night.
Their clipped footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. The normally busy house was silent of the usual commotion, as most of the servants and officers were already at the dance. As they stepped out of the officers’ quarters and into the warm summer evening, the peacefulness of the fort made Angelique almost forget they were at war.
There were still plenty of soldiers lounging around the soldiers’ barracks, the unlucky men who hadn’t been invited to the dance. Several groups were playing cards and stopped to stare as Lieutenant Steele escorted Lavinia past the center green toward the South Sally Port.
Angelique followed behind the couple with Pierre, who tucked her closer so that her arm brushed against his. He leaned in to her. “You’re so beautiful you take my breath away.”
His voice was husky near her ear. It unleashed a flutter in her stomach like waves lapping against a beach. “Lavinia’s right. I’m sure you say that to all the women.”
He pulled her to a stop, heedless of Lavinia and Lieutenant Steele strolling ahead.
The warmth left over from the summer day chased away the chill on her bare skin. Overhead, only the wisps of a few clouds tinged the clear blue sky. It was a perfect summer evening, and whether she was at the dance or not, she knew she needed to savor the all-too-fleeting beauty.
“I don’t say that to all the women, ma cherie,” he said softly, earnestness tightening the strong lines in his face.
“Well, maybe not all,” she said.
“The way I feel with you . . .” he started, leaning even closer. “I’ve tried to deny my feelings over the past few weeks, tried to just be friends with you, but I can’t. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”
Her breath caught in her throat. His confession was everything she’d secretly wanted to hear but never thought possible. “I think you just like seeing me half unclothed.”
His gaze dropped to the exposed skin above the neckline of her bodice, then to her neck and down to one of her arms. “I admit. I like seeing you in something other than the bag-like apparel Ebenezer forces on you. But it doesn’t matter to me what you wear. You’re always beautiful.”
She couldn’t keep from thinking back to that day he’d proposed to her, how sincere he’d been. Like now . . .
And once again she wanted to cry out at herself for turning him down. If he really cared about her, if his feelings for her were growing like hers, then why couldn’t they make a marriage work?
Intense longing wrestled with reality, just as it had over the past weeks whenever she’d thought about him. Standing with him now, dressed in their finest, with his dark eyes glimmering with something she didn’t understand but that sent shivers to her belly, she wanted to throw caution away. She wanted to turn back the time and pretend they were in Miriam’s kitchen again, with him down on one knee in front of her.
“Pierre . . . I . . .” She couldn’t just blurt out that she’d changed her mind about marrying him. What if he hadn’t really meant it? Or what if he’d decided it was a stupid idea after all?
He waited, watching her face.
What if it was still a bad idea like it had been before?
“Miss Mackenzie and Mr. Durant,” Lavinia called from near the arched entrance of the fort. “You mustn’t lag. Everyone will be waiting for our arrival.”
“Are you sure you want to go to the dance?” Pierre asked without moving forward.
From the fort’s position on the bluffs, the lake stretched out as far as the eye could see. She drew in a breath of air that hinted at the cooler days that would soon be upon them. “Where would we go instead?”
“Fishing?” The beginning of a grin played at his lips. “We still haven’t had that contest to see who is really the master fisher.”
“Fishing? Dressed like this?”
“True. You’d probably have an unfair advantage. When the fish see how pretty you look, they’ll jump into your net just to be with you.”
She laughed. “You can’t admit I’d beat you fair and square, can you?”
His grin broke free.
“Miss MacKenzie,” Lavinia said again more sharply, next to the sentinel on duty. “I really must insist that you stop dawdling.”
Angelique wavered. Part of her longed to run off with Pierre. The very thought of being alone with him sent tingles all over her skin. But another part of her warned her against such rashness. Lavinia had gone to a great deal of trouble to prepare her for the event. She didn’t want to think about the problems she might bring upon herself and Pierre if she defied the young woman.
Pierre cocked an eyebrow.
“I have to go to the dance,” she said. “Besides, after spending the past two weeks learning how to waltz, I’d like to dance with you since you look so dashing.”
“I do look dashing tonight, don’t I?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late for that,” he said, starting forward down the dirt path with more spring to his step.
She wouldn’t tell him she thought he was handsome all the time, or that the real reason she wanted to dance with him wasn’t because of how he looked. The real reason was because she wanted him to pull her close. She wanted to be in his arms, to feel his tender touch, and to hear the soft rasp of his breath near her ear. Such thoughts shamed her, yet she couldn’t deny them.
They exited the fort through the front gate and made their way down the steep path cut into the side of the bluff until they reached the bottom, where the government building was located. The big brick house sat on the edge of town, surrounded by the vegetable gardens the British Army had planted with hopes of providing fresh food to the troops.
The double doors stood wide open, the numerous windows as well. The spacious first-floor room was already crowded. All the furniture had been removed, except for a few chairs along the side and a long table laden with refreshments. A group of soldiers with a variety of instruments had formed a makeshift orchestra at one end of the room.
Angelique wanted to hide in a corner, especially when she saw Ebenezer filling a cup with spiced cider. Of course he hadn’t allowed Betty to participate in “the lewdness,” his description of the dance. He never let the girl go anywhere, especially now that she needed to take care of the son she’d borne him.
Lavinia pulled her away from Pierre and circled around the room with Angelique in tow, apparently determined to show her off to everyone. Angelique tried to ignore the openmouthed astonishment of many of the islanders who’d always scoffed at her. And she forced herself not to shiver when Lavinia paraded her in front of the officers, including the colonel.
The interest and lust that flared in the eyes of some of the men reminded her too much of the way men had looked at her mother. Her mother, however, had flaunted her beauty, enjoyed the attention of the men, and hadn’t been able to resist the flattery. Surely Angelique would never sink so low. At least that was what she told herself as she tried to ignore the warning bells that sounded in the back of her mind.
Angelique was grateful when Pierre came over to her, linked his hand with hers, and glared at any man who stared at her too long.
She began to despair that Lavinia would never tire of the praise for her charitable efforts. Then when the orchestra started to play, Lavinia finally left her in peace. Angelique stumbled through the first waltz with Pierre, feeling exposed and awkward, aware of all the attention upon her. It came as no surprise to discover that Pierre was a graceful dancer, and he was good about smoothing over her mistakes.
Ebenezer stood next to the refreshment table talking with the island doctor. Although he kept himself busy tasting the delicacies on the table, she could sense his disapproval.
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.”
“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 twitched 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 shuffled 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?