Page 35 of The Autumn Wife
“Sister Martha told me she’d send one of the laborers.”
A tendril of suspicion curled in him, tightening as he looked across the wide, lush field of grass and saw not a single soul moving—no one but the two of them, alone on the bank at dawn. His ribs tightened. The Reverend Mother hadn’t said anyone would be joining him on the canoe trip east…but the nun tended to let things work themselves out.
With a jump of his pulse, he asked, “Where, precisely, are you going?”
“To the Girards’.”
The name hit him like one of Jules’s left hooks. “Captain Girard.”
She nodded. “My friend Marie’s husband.”
“They’ve got aseigneuriedownstream, on the left bank.”
“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “You met Marie in Montreal yesterday.”
“She’s having a baby.” He planted his hands on his hips as the pieces came together. “And her husband wants me to advise him about building a church in stone on his land.”
Her face paled to the same white as the rabbit fur edging the hood of her cloak. Her head swiveled as she glanced up and down the empty bank, in search of another canoe to contradict his conclusion. Irritation was his first feeling, annoyance at the Reverend Mother’s carelessness—or ignorance—in throwing them together like this. But that discomfort faded fast.
Now they would have more stolen time.
Suddenly he felt like a ship long languishing in the sea just as a fresh wind filled its sails.
“Come on board, Cecile.” He turned back to the canoe to hide a rush of enthusiasm. “It’s a long ride.”
Sitting in the birchbark vessel, her satchel at her feet, Cecile pulled the furred edges of her cloak around her. She was thankful that Theosatbehindher, dragging the paddle through the black water. That way he couldn’t see how emotional she’d become in his presence, remembering the way he’d looked at her when he’d saidEvery moment with you feels like stolen time.
Sitting in silence, but for the paddle gurgling through the water, felt like one endless moment, swelling with longing.
“About Captain Girard,” came Theo’s voice, suddenly, from behind her. “What can you tell me about him?”
It was a nonsense question, but she supposed he’d been trying to think up a neutral topic of conversation. The query brought her back into herself, her booted feet on the floor of the canoe, the river current rippling under the birchbark, the world outside her dreams.
“Lucas was a soldier of the Carignan-Salières Regiment several years ago. Before that, he fought in Flanders.” When she thought of Captain Girard, the first thing that came to mind was how powerfully, and intimately, he looked at Marie when he believed no one was watching. She wasn’t about to tell Theo that. “When the captain came back from his post in the wilderness, he was granted a large landholding, but only if he agreed to marry first.”
“Marry a King’s Girl. Your friend.”
“Yes.”
When Marie had told her the details of the courtship, Cecile had been left gaping. Marie’s captain had wanted the land, but he hadn’t been keen aboutforcing a King’s Girl into the hard life of a settler. So, he’d made a deal with Marie, who hadn’t wanted to marry either. The captain promised if she spent a winter with him as his wife, until the landholding was secured, then in the spring, he’d give her what she had wanted most—passage back to Paris.
For an entire Quebec winter, Captain Girard hadn’t touched Marie—until she desperately wanted him to.
“He has a lovely stone cabin,” she added, wincing once again at all the love she would never have. “It’s the only stone cabin I know of, this far west of Quebec.”
“Odd that he didn’t build in wood. But smart, considering the risk of fire.”
“I suppose.” What silliness were they talking about? Cecile glanced up at the sky, scudding with gray-bottomed clouds. It seemed blasphemous, almost, to waste this stolen time on useless chatter. “Theo, what will you do first, once you’re free?”
The paddle hit the surface of the water with a gentle splash.
“I’ve saved up some beaver pelts over the years, doing odd jobs on the days I was sent to Montreal. I suppose the first thing I’ll do is trade them in for a better shirt and a new pair of boots.”
She nodded, understanding the urge. Once Eduard had been out of her and Etienne’s life, and before the creditors had caught up with her, she’d gone on a little splurge with the jar money longforbidden to her. It had felt good to put a proper waistcoat on Etienne’s back, and slip herself into a lace-edged cambric chemise unstained by the blood of her wounds.
“And after the new boots?” Her heart squeezed. “What’s next? Will you get blind drunk in some tavern?”
“Is that what you’ll do if Talon discovers that you are, indeed, a widow?”
