Page 2 of The Winter Husband
“In my eyes, lawlessness adds to your appeal. You’ve become famous in Quebec, did you know? In taverns, many speak your name. They’ve even given you a nickname.”
Her throat tightened. She’d been called many names in the past year. To think, as a child, she used to ride a rope swing behind her father’s lovely house without a care in the world. To think she’d once been innocent and happy in a convent orphanage, before all this mortification.
Fortin persisted despite her silence. “Usually, these nicknames are spoken in a vulgar local tongue. These settlers live so much among the tribes, my dear, they know their many languages. Would you like to know your nickname?”
No.
“Chepewéssin.” The word tripped on his tongue. “It means ‘The Northeast Wind.’”
Goodness.
Was that all?
“It’s the kind of wind that blows hard in winter, my dear. Because your temperament is so cold.”
She made a mask of her face. What kind of man thought malice was a form of wooing?
“Cousin, look at that blush.” Landry took a step back, as if she were a painting he’d just nailed to the wall. “Look at the curve of that jaw, that lush black hair. A man could lose his hands in such a mane. Surely there’ll be no better choice for my wife. Such studied restraint, such pure blood, and such good breeding—”
“Enough.” She set her cup on the table hard enough to make it slosh up against her palm. “Whenever I hear talk of ‘good breeding,’ I am overwhelmed by the stink of manure.”
“Ah.” He cocked his head. “The lady has spirit.”
“Sirs, I will not marry—”
“Yes, yes, so you say, but the choice is not entirely your own, is it? Your jailers may decide to make that choice for you.” Fortin paused as a sudden disturbance in the room drew his attention. “What the devil is going on?”
Murmuring rippled through the crowd as a newcomer stepped up to the parlor doorway, tilting his head under the lintel to enter. Marie glimpsed epaulets, a military sash, and a squared-jawed face of supreme authority. A soldier of some rank, she assumed, from the reaction he’d caused. She was grateful for the interruption, as she was about to cause her own disruption by tossing the dregs of her wine into the face of Mr. Landry. Now, peeling her fingers off the rim of the cup, she watched the newcomer exchange a few words with Madame Bourdon. A lock of sun-streaked hair fell across his forehead as he bent to listen, and then straightened to make a visual sweep of the salon.
His perusal stopped on her.
Startled, she took a step back. The soldier strode through the parted crowd in her direction, only to be stopped by the milky-eyed cousin who bit off a curse as he stepped in front of her.
“You. And you.” The soldier’s face darkened. “Madame Bourdon should not have let in either of you.”
“We’re to be landholders.” Mr. Landry gestured to her. “And we’ve already chosen a proper aristocrat for a bride.”
“You have no land to offer.” The newcomer’s deep bass voice shook the timbers. “The government has made a choice. The land you hoped for has been assigned to me.”
“Nonsense.” Landry drew himself up on his red heels. “I have been told by respectable men on good authority—”
“And I have been told by Jean Talon, the Intendant of New France himself.” The giant’s nostrils flared. “It is done.”
“So you say.” Mr. Landry frowned. “I have no knowledge of this.”
“Ask him yourself.” The soldier leaned forward. “Talon would never grant a landholding to men who, only a year ago, were sitting in a Montreal jail.”
Jail?
Between the men, the air sizzled. Marie flattened herself against the wall. Whatever the conflict was among them, she wanted no part of it, especially considering all the knives in the room and the sword at the soldier’s side. If only the floor would open up and swallow her.
Mr. Landry dropped his voice. “This is neither the time nor place for this discussion. Talon will settle the matter.” He swiveled toward her. “My intent is clear, is it not, Mademoiselle?”
A nod would send him away, so she offered it. He turned and tugged his cousin toward the door. The newcomer remained, his attention as blinding as a sunbeam.
She dropped her gaze to stare at the third button on his military coat. It seemed the safest option.
“Some advice,” he said. “Avoid those men, and their false promises.” The giant twisted to watch the men retreat across the room. “I’ve seen how they treat their Huron wives. They’ll make you miserable.”
