Free Rogue's Hostage by Linda McLaughlin Page A

Blessed Virgin at the Beautiful River."
    The four travelers stood on a ridge overlooking the place where two rivers met to form a third. On either side of the sparkling waterways, heavily forested hills stood against the blue sky. A green meadow stretched below to the point of land where the fort was situated.
    "It is lovely," Mara whispered, her voice filled with awe.
    Jacques stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder and, with the other, pointed to the river flowing from the northeast. "That is the north fork of La Belle Riviere, what the English call the Allegheny."
    When she nodded, he pointed to the left. "The Monongahela flows north from Virginia."
    "And then they meet to form the Ohio," Mara said dutifully.
    He smiled at her response. He had explained it all to her last evening, and she had actually listened to him. After two weeks of traveling through the wilderness, she seemed more resigned to her captivity. Or was it his imagination?
    "Yes, and the Ohio is the real prize," Jacques said. "Whoever commands the river controls the gateway to the interior. That is why Fort Duquesne must not fall to the English."
    "It looks strong to me," Mara said, shrugging off his hand and moving away.
    He let his arm drop to his side. She tolerated his touch now, but just barely. After all, she was grateful. At least she hadn’t called him a savage or a murderer recently. She had seemed to know instinctively that attacking his honor hurt far more than her knife would have.
    Thank God the journey was almost over. It was past time to concentrate on military matters, he reminded himself.
    Jacques turned his attention to the fort, surveying the site with a critical eye. Though Duquesne was more sturdily built than the simple wooden forts of the English, it had been thrown up in a hurry. The two walls facing the rivers consisted only of massive wood pickets, more than a foot in diameter. But the other two walls were constructed of crib-like timberwork, filled with earth to a thickness of twelve feet and designed to withstand cannon fire from the landward side. Surrounding the whole was an outer stockade fence inside which a number of outbuildings had been added—barracks, storehouses and, on the south side, a hospital and magazine. To an untrained eye, it might appear invulnerable, but Jacques knew better.
    "Come!" Gray Wolf said abruptly. "We are almost there." He and Crazy Badger set off down the path to the flood plain.
    Jacques turned to Mara. For a moment, neither said anything, though anticipation hovered in the air between them. "Well, madame, we have finally arrived. Shall we proceed?"
    Mara held back, seemingly reluctant to reach the end of her journey, and Jacques thought he knew why. As long as they had stayed in the mountains, she had hopes of being rescued. Vain, unrealistic hopes, though he didn’t tell her that. But once inside the fort, all chance of escape would be gone.
    "Is something wrong?" he asked, reaching out to touch her arm.
    "No," she said. "It’s just that the journey took so long I didn’t believe we would ever get here. Now that we have, I don’t know what to expect."
    "We talked about that, back at the cave. Don’t you remember?"
    "Yes, of course." He had promised to find her some kind of work when they reached the fort, something respectable. It was a promise he meant to keep.
    Jacques started down the path the Indians had taken. "Come along, madame."
    Mara trailed behind, stopping as they approached the fort. "It’s huge," she murmured, staring.
    "The walls are fourteen feet high," Jacques told her. "We enter over there," he said, pointing. A wide, deep ditch ran along the walls, requiring the use of a drawbridge at the entrance to the main gate. Inside, every man stopped what he was doing to stare at the new arrivals. Mara stepped closer to Jacques.
    He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Don’t worry, madame. I will take care of you."
    Corbeau glared at the handful of men who were openly leering