By Linda
McLaughlin
Historical
Romance
His hostage...
In 1758 the Pennsylvania
frontier is wild, primitive and dangerous, where safety often lies at the end
of a gun. Mara Dupré's life crumbles when a French and Indian war party attacks
her cabin, kills her husband, and takes her captive. Marching through the
wilderness strengthens her resolve to flee, but she doesn't count on her captor
teaching her the meaning of courage and the tempting call of desire.
Her destiny...
French
lieutenant Jacques Corbeau's desire for his captive threatens what little honor
he has left. But when Mara desperately
offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, he finds the strength to
refuse and reclaims his lost self-respect. As the shadows of his past catch up
to him, Jacques realizes that Mara, despite the odds, is the one true key to
reclaiming his soul and banishing his past misdeeds forever.
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Sighing, she moved to stand next to one of Jacques’s
precious cannon. The view from the ramparts was magnificent. Under a leaden
sky, the green of bushes and grasses seemed more intense than ever. The
turbulent waters of the river tumbled past the fort, frothing over the rocks
along the shore.
She glanced toward the hills on the other side of the
Monongahela. The heavily forested slopes were dappled by drifts of gossamer
mist, but not thickly enough to obscure the colors of autumn. Among the green
shone clusters of gold and orange. Occasional patches of red were visible, as
if stained by the blood of the men who had died trying to possess this cursed
spot.
Lord, but she was morbid today. Her mood was due to a
combination of weather and circumstance and surely would be temporary. She
glanced at the view again, wishing Emile were here to see it. He would have
been enchanted by the vista.
The fragrance of autumn, clear, crisp, and tangy, wafted on
the air. Soon, very soon, winter’s frost would snuff out autumn’s fire, leaving
the landscape bleak and brown until the first snowfall came to shield it with a
pristine layer of white.
A flock of birds flew overhead, heading south for the
winter. Mara watched them with envy, wishing she, too, could soar over the
treetops. She would fly all the way back to Geneva, she thought, smiling at her
fancy.
A shout from the sentry drew her attention to the plain in
front of the fort. Her heart raced at the sight of the raiding party straggling
back. In the lead group, she spotted a tall officer in a blue and red uniform.
Jacques.
She hurried to the ladder and scurried swiftly but carefully
down the slippery rungs, then ran to the main gate, straight for him. When she
skidded to a stop about a foot from him, he grinned at her.
“What, so eager, madame? Can it be that you missed me?”
She felt her face flush, but refused to acknowledge the
truth of his words. “Do not flatter yourself, monsieur. It is merely that I am
bored. I have had no one to argue with for weeks now.”
You can find her online at her:
Twitter: @Lyndi Lamont
Thanks for hosting me today, Kris. Hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving!
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