Rogue's Hostage (17 page)

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 fresh 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, then 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, 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 any more."

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 burrowed closer to his warmth, suddenly aware of how chilled she was. "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.

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 to 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 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?
he wondered.

* * *

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?"

She could take his accusations no longer. All her life, she had tried so hard to do what was right. She pushed at his chest, struggling to free herself.

"You want to know what he promised me?" she almost shrieked. "Freedom! He promised me freedom."

Abruptly, he let her go, and they stood, staring at each other, the only sound his harsh breathing.

She held out a hand toward him. "I never betrayed you. Oh, Jacques, I would never leave you without saying good-bye." Not even for Gideon, she added silently. "Please believe me."

"I want to, Mara, but it has been my experience that women are not to be trusted." His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "Especially beautiful women."

"Thank you, I think," she shot back. "We are a pair. You do not trust women, and I have no faith in men. What must I do to make you believe me?"

"Tell me the truth. Who was that man?" he asked tersely. "Why did you go to meet him in the first place?"

She drew in a deep breath. "It was Gideon," she whispered.

"Gideon?" He stared at her, disbelief written on his face. "Are you telling me that was your brother?"

She nodded. "Now you see why I could not say anything until he left the city. You would have been honor bound to turn him in to the authorities."

He sank down on the bed. "I should report it, even now. It is my duty to do so."

"I understand."

He shook his head, still appearing stunned by her news. "What did you argue about?"

"He wanted me to go with him, but I refused."

Jacques let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. She had stayed with him. She had chosen him over her brother. A warm tide of relief and elation rose in him, but he tamped it down. He had often wondered what would happen if she ever had to choose between the two of them, but had never expected this outcome.

"Why?" he asked, suddenly needing to know the answer.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly seeming unsure of herself. "Because I could not leave you without any explanation. And if I had left you a note, Gideon might have been caught and hung as a spy." She looked at him, silently pleading with him to understand.

And he did. His joy was replaced with cold hard reality. Staying was the only way she could see to protect her brother. The final decision was still to come. What would she do next time?

"Some day, Mara," he said slowly, "you will have to choose between us."

No, she protested silently. There were only two people in all the world she loved and who loved her in return. She did not want to have to choose between them. It wasn’t fair, but when had life ever treated her fairly?

Still, deep down, she clung to a spark of hope that such a decision would not be required. No matter what she did, it would be like tearing out a piece of her heart.

* * *

"Thank God, I thought you weren’t coming!"

Gideon joined Ned Barham in their stolen bateau. "Let’s get out of here."

"Where have you been?" Ned asked in a sharp tone. "What happened with your sister?"

Gideon just shrugged. He had no desire to talk about it; his pain was so raw. Though part of him was glad she was safe and well, her refusal to leave Corbeau angered him. But that was nothing compared to the cold fury he’d felt at the proprietary way the man looked at her. It had taken every ounce of control Gideon possessed to keep from slamming his fist into the Frenchman’s sneering mouth.

But Ned deserved an answer. His life was at stake here, too, and he wasn’t happy that Gideon had endangered their mission for personal reasons.

This time, Ned’s voice was sharp and demanding. "Did she show up?"

Gideon ran a hand over his eyes. Lord, but he was weary. "She came to say good-bye."

"Alone?"

Gideon turned to glare at his companion. "Of course she was alone. She would never betray me."

But she had. Oh, she would keep his secret, but this other, deeper betrayal hurt worse than he could have imagined. Because he was not the only one she’d betrayed. No, Mara had turned her back on her family, her heritage. All for the pleasures of a man’s bed.

As the
bateau
floated downstream, Gideon watched Quebec fade into the mist. He had come here with such hopes, only to see them dashed as waves against a rock.

A stab of guilt hit him, and he realized it was partly his fault. He had been too late. A rush of bitterness filled him as he recalled her words.

I waited and waited for you, but you never came.

He had failed her, as he failed the others he cared about. His grandparents who never got over their disappointment in him. Emile, his best friend, who might still be alive if Gideon had not assured him he was safe.

And Mara, how many ways had he failed her? How many times was he absent when she needed him? He would not fail again, he vowed. He still had the ransom, and he would bet every penny of it that Corbeau would happily trade Mara for the money.

Then she would finally know what kind of man he was.

* * *

Mara sighed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was eight o’clock in the evening and the sun was just starting to set. Her day’s work done, she had come upstairs to her lonely bedchamber. In the month since Gideon’s disruptive visit, she’d seen little of Jacques and missed him more than she’d thought possible.

By his orders, Mara stayed close to the tavern, worrying about Jacques, about Gideon, and about the future.

Gideon’s visit had changed everything. Instead of rejoicing in their reunion, she had been fearful for his safety, and he had been disappointed, both by her decision to stay and her admission that she and Jacques were lovers, something Gideon never would understand. She was not sure she understood herself, but there was no denying her feelings for Jacques.

Gideon’s visit had changed their relationship, too. Jacques had not come to her bed since, and occasionally she caught him looking at her with an anxious frown. She wished there were something she could say to reassure him, but she was afraid to mention Gideon’s name.

She unpinned her hair and began to brush it, wondering when Jacques would be home. As the June days grew longer, he had spent more time on duty, occupied with the building of a battery in Lower Town. When it grew too dark to work, he would come back to the tavern, gulp down some food, and then retire to his room, no doubt to fall into an exhausted sleep. And while she admired his attention to duty, she missed his kisses, his lovemaking.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her heart began to pound as she turned to see Jacques standing in the doorway, dressed only in a cotton robe. "Are you finally finished working for the day?" she asked.

He sighed wearily. "The days grow longer, and time grows shorter. I fear it will soon be very hot."

"It is summer," she said, turning back toward the mirror.

He walked up behind her and played with a lock of her hair. The touch of his hand on her neck sent shivers down her spine. It had been so long since he had touched her with tenderness.

"That is not what I mean. One of Montcalm’s aides came by today to ask if I know how to heat shot. Apparently he can find no one in the colony who can."

She frowned. "I do not understand."

"If we could fire heated shot at the British ships, we could set them aflame. It is bad enough that they have reached the Ile d’Orleans, but if they manage to sail past the city…"

Mara’s eyes grew wide. She had seen the English ships moored at the island only a few miles from the town where the river widened on its way to the sea. "Then there will be a battle soon."

He put his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. His voice rumbled pleasantly in her ear, though his words were chilling. "If the British have their way, there will be a siege. We may be trapped here. I never would have brought you had I known."

She turned to face him. "You must not blame yourself. I chose to stay with you, remember?"

"A decision you may live to regret." He hesitated, his expression unsure. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you."

She smiled, trying to reassure him. "What is that?"

He stepped back and took her hand in both of his. "Will you marry me?"

Mara sucked in a deep breath. For one brief, mad moment, she wanted to fling herself into his arms and shout
Yes, I’ll marry you!
But it was impossible. He had said that one day she would have to choose between him and Gideon, but she was not ready to do so. Still, the thought that he loved her enough to propose filled her heart with joy. Perhaps one day…

"I do not know what to say," she replied, slowly drawing her hand out of his. "You have taken me by surprise. I was not expecting…"

"It was Etienne’s idea, actually," he admitted, a sheepish look on his face.

She frowned to hide her disappointment. It had been his brother’s idea. What a fool she was to even think he could love her. "Whatever gave Etienne the idea we should marry?"

"I told him I felt responsible for you, because of all that has happened, and that I wished to provide for you."

She tapped her foot on the floor. This appeared to be worse than she’d originally thought. "What are you talking about now, Jacques?"

"My will. I have named you as my only heir," he explained, his expression earnest. "I do not have much, of course, but there is the tavern. And if we married, you would receive a widow’s pension if something happened to me."

A chill swept through her at the idea, and her voice sounded sharper than she’d intended. "Do not even think of such a thing! I have already lost one husband." Dear Lord, she could not bear to think of losing Jacques, too.