Heaven In His Arms by Lisa Ann Verge

Author:Lisa Ann Verge
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Canadian history, mail order bride, fur trade, road trip, colonial America, adventure, marriage of convenience
Publisher: Bay Street Press LLC
Published: 2016-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

He did not leave her behind on Allumette Island.

He had intended to. One of the Jesuits had approached him, concerned about the presence of a Frenchwoman among the men, and offered her sanctuary for the coming winter. But André had put the cleric off. He couldn’t think about the future. He couldn’t think about anything but the story she’d told him and the maelstrom of emotions it evoked—stupid anger and a strange sense of wonder and suspicion and humility—all at once, feelings tangled inside him like a fishnet knotted in the rapids.

So when the morning of their departure arrived and Genevieve came out of her tent banging her damn case against her knees, André couldn’t explain why he behaved as he did. Tiny gave him a gimlet eye as André wordlessly—still wordlessly—let his flushed, proud, determined wife settle atop a laden canoe.

Now, wielding the steering paddle as they slipped into the mouth of the French River, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the indentation of her lower back as she sat in front of him, as stiff as a schoolgirl.

“By the blessed milk of the Virgin Mary.” Tiny twisted to glare at Julien. “What are you doing, pork–eater, lying back like a whore on Sunday? We've entered the French River.”

Julien sighed and put aside his unlit pipe, a small carved vessel made of red pipestone that he had bought from the Nipissing Indians. André knew this, for he’d been watching him every moment of the day. Now the boy grabbed two handfuls of fringe to strip the shirt off his back. With a baleful glance at Genevieve, Julien stood up and dove into the black waters.

Genevieve watched Julien flounder for a few moments, drifting away from the canoe, and the concern on her face made André’s belly clench.

“I trust, Tiny,” she said, “that you aren't just going to leave him bobbing out there like a piece of dead wood.”

“Of course not.” Tiny dragged deep on his pipe, then exhaled the blue smoke.

“Tiny,” she persisted, “the water must be close to freezing.”

“Hear that, pork–eater? Blossom thinks you're cold.”

“The water's as warm as ale, O Mighty One.”

“Tiny.”

Tiny shrugged and waved his pipe in the sign of the cross. “Arise, boy! You've officially been baptized in the waters of the French River.”

André twisted his paddle to turn the canoe broadside to the boy, thinking that one look from his wife’s flashing green eyes and his men collapsed like marionettes whose strings had been cut. He wasn’t any better—at the end of one of the innumerable portages yesterday, André had found her curled on a rock, shivering like a wet dog, her hands wrapped in the ragged hem of her dirty petticoat. He’d given her an extra pair of his leggings to keep her legs warm, and when they reached the windswept waters of Lake Nipissing, he bought her a blanket from the Indian tribe that lived along the shores. Never once had she turned to him in thanks.

She was the ice princess

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.