Page 67 of The Winter Husband
“Only two.”
He frowned. All three men were dead, he was sure. He’d shot the first one through the window. He’d battled hand-to-hand with Fortin and Landry until both had ended up motionless at his feet. He’d confirmed it before he raised his head to check on Marie, who’d been standing on the porch…holding the flintlock.
“Wait.” Spit hit the back of his throat. “You—”
“Turns out I’m a good shot,” she interrupted. “I hit what I aimed at. In this case, I aimed at Landry.”
His ribs tightened against a rush of feeling. He should have protected her better. It was a great burden to take a man’s life, even the life of an enemy. She didn’t deserve that burden…yet, at the same time, pride flooded through him. Marie hadn’t hesitated. She hadn’t flinched. She’d saved him, and herself.
A soldier’s daughter.
A soldier’s wife.
She said, “Do you think I should confess my crime to Talon? Then he’d throw me in jail right here with you.”
“Don’t.” He gripped the bars of his cage. “Don’t put your head in a noose, Marie. Bad enough that mine is in one.”
“No judge in Quebec would convict you, Lucas. It was self-defense.”
He hoped she was right. He didn’t relish the prospect of a trial. Or being away from her for so long.
“Why are we talking about this, anyway?” Her chin puckered in that stubborn way he loved. “The only reason Talon locked you up was because he found out you planned to ship me back to France.”
Lucas closed his eyes. Talon had spies everywhere.
“So I’m here to tell you my own news.” She paced in a circle in the hall beyond the bars, begging for him to take a long look at the way the deerskin pulled across her plump backside. “I’ve decided I’m not sailing back to France, no matter what.”
Relief hollowed him out.
“I’m staying in Quebec with Etta. If you think you can force me onto a ship, I’ll remind you that you’ll have no say in the matter once we get an annulment.”
The word was like a mule-kick to the gut. How could he have ever thought of separating from her?
“And if wedoget an annulment,” she persisted, “then I’ll remain here until a fine young man takes a liking to me—”
“Like hell you will.”
The words cut clean through him.
“Then stop me.” Her smile turned wicked. “Forget the annulment. Promise you’ll keep me as your wife. Then Talon will release you, and we’ll be together.”
Lucas pressed closer to the bars, wanting to breathe in her scent instead of the prison-wall damp and tang of the wet iron bars between them. He ached to reach through, seize her, and kiss her senseless, but he hadn’t yet given her a reason to think he had changed his mind. He wanted to be her husband, now and forever, but they still had one matter of unfinished business.
Dropping his voice, he said, “You shouldn’t have done it, Marie.”
“Bargain for your freedom with Talon?” She flipped her hair back. “Or threaten to marry another man?”
“You shouldn’t have risked the river.”
She stilled, swaying back. So Philippe hadn’t told her he’d shared the story, or at least enough of the story to jog Lucas’s memory.
“I’m more than twice your weight, wife. How the hell did you get me out of that bed, out of the cabin, into the canoe?”
She frowned, hesitated, and then shrugged. “I forced you to walk, though you were half-asleep.”
“Forced me?”
“I nudged you awake, urged you out of bed. You fell to your knees a couple of times. I had to brace you upright most of the way.”
