Rogue's Hostage by Linda McLaughlin Read Free Book Online Page B

Americans."
    His lip curled into a knowing sneer as he spat out the words. "The golden-haired Englishman? The one you embraced?"
    A chill went through her. "How long were you spying on us?"
    "Long enough," Jacques said as his lingering doubts about her virtue returned. Perhaps her relationship with the rosbif was not so innocent after all. "Your husband was either weak or very understanding. Not every man would be so cordial to his wife’s lover."
    "Lover?" She threw back her head and laughed.
    "Do I amuse you, madame?"
    She tried to hide her laughter behind one hand. "Oh, monsieur, you are quite mistaken. Gideon was my husband’s best friend, and mine as well. But I cannot expect a Frenchman to understand that."
    Stung by her barb, Jacques glared at her. She seemed to hold him in contempt because of his nationality. "I made a natural assumption. We French are romantic by nature."
    "Decadent and immoral, you mean."
    Her comment struck him like a blow to the gut. His hand automatically touched the scar on his side. What would she think of a man who had seduced another man’s betrothed? If he told her that sordid tale, she would despise him more than she already did.
    However, he refused to back down. "You may think that you and this Gideon are friends, but I suspect he loves you."
    "Yes, he does," she replied in a low tone, taut with emotion. "He is the only person left in this world who cares about me, thanks to you and your savage friends. He loves me so much that he will come after me, and he will have his revenge."
    The knot inside Jacques’s stomach tightened. Let the redcoat come, he would welcome the challenge. No one would take this woman away from him.
    Bon Dieu, what was wrong with him? he wondered. He should be happy to have her off his hands. She had been nothing but trouble, and it had only been two days. The sooner he got her to the fort and out of his keeping, the better off he’d be.
    Though he did not trust her, he admired her spirit. Despite her fragile appearance, she had proven herself a worthy adversary. Few men had the courage to challenge him, but she had faced him without flinching. She was far stronger and more cunning than he’d thought, and he wanted her. Badly. Even though, a few short hours ago, she had tried to kill him.
    He was a fool, indeed.
    * * *
    Mara awoke feeling like she’d been trampled by a plow horse. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and she ached all over, especially her wrist. Groaning, she sat up and stretched. Taking a deep breath, she drank in the clean new scent of early morn.
    "Good, you’re awake." Corbeau’s voice rumbled from the other side of the clearing. "Let’s get going. We have a long way to travel today."
    Mara stared at him, her pleasure in the new day gone. He was dressed and ready to travel, her clothing draped over his arm.
    She stood, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders against the chill in the air, then grabbed the bundle from him and turned toward the forest.
    "No need for modesty," he muttered. "Put on your skirt and pack the rest."
    Gritting her teeth, Mara did as he ordered, struggling to fasten the waistband with her sore wrist. Throwing him a glare of defiance she shrugged into her bodice as well, but lacing it was an ordeal. She winced every time she had to tighten the ties.
    "Let me see that."
    Corbeau took her hand in his and probed her wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
    "It’s not broken," he said, "just sprained." Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a linen bandage and wrapped it around her wrist. "This should help support and protect it."
    "Thank you," she whispered, disconcerted by his unexpected kindness. But she could not forget the danger of this man, or how he and his friends had shattered her life. She backed up and began tying her bodice again.
    "Let me do it for you." He pushed her hands away and expertly threaded the laces through the holes.
    To her annoyance, she felt herself