Free Rogue's Hostage by Linda McLaughlin Page B

at her and swore under his breath. Would he have to protect her from the entire garrison? Not that there were very many of them. The fort seemed almost deserted. "Just a moment, private." Corbeau held up a hand to stop a soldier. "Where is everyone?"
    The man saluted. "They left a week ago to attack the English. The rosbif are building a new fort only a few days’ march from here." The soldier’s gaze kept sliding to Mara, his interest poorly concealed.
    "Is Lieutenant Gauthier with them?" Jacques asked.
    "Yes, sir," the man replied.
    After he dismissed the soldier, Mara asked, "Who is Lieutenant Gauthier?"
    "A friend," he replied as he led Mara across the drawbridge and through the main gate. Inside, he pointed out the commandant’s quarters to their right and the trading post directly ahead. Then he gestured with pride to the southeast bastion with its large cannons atop gun platforms.
    "That is why you need not worry," he said. "My guns command the approach to the fort. The English will have a hard time getting past them."
    When she made no response, Jacques led her to a building on the north side of the fort. "You will be safe here," he said, opening the door.
    She refused to look at him. "Safe, but not free," she muttered.
    * * *
    Mara found herself in a small room with a packed dirt floor and two bunks built into the walls. In front of the fireplace, a crude wooden table and two benches provided the only other furniture. Clothes hung from pegs on the walls. It was much like her cabin, only smaller.
    Corbeau pushed the table to one side of the hearth and built up the fire. He then left her alone, promising to return in a few minutes. When he came back, he was followed by two soldiers carrying a wooden tub, which they placed in front of the fire.
    The men carried in buckets of water from the rain barrels outside. Some they poured into the tub, others into a large kettle hanging over the fire.
    After they left, Jacques pulled off his shirt. "Make yourself at home. I need to wash and change before reporting in, then it will be your turn."
    "These are your quarters?" she asked in alarm. "You cannot expect me to stay here. With you?"
    His lips curled in a slow smile that carved grooves in his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The rogue found the situation amusing.
    "That is precisely what I expect, madame. At least until Alain Gauthier returns. He normally shares the room with me. His absence will give me time to make other arrangements for you."
    "But everyone will think…"
    "That you are my woman. Yes."
    Mara stiffened in outrage. "That’s intolerable. I will not stay here." She marched toward the door, but was stopped by his words.
    "Where will you go?" he asked in a silky voice. "To Gray Wolf?"
    She stopped and fought for control of her temper. He was right, she had nowhere else to go.
    "Am I so repulsive to you?"
    Mara dropped her gaze to the floor. It was a question she dared not answer.
    "Relax, madame," he said as he poured hot water into the tub. "It is better if the men think you are mine. I did not like the way they looked at you. And the sooner I report in, the sooner Captain de Ligneris can decide what is to be done with you."
    She turned to face him and tried not to stare. He had stripped down to nothing but a breechclout. When he crouched down to rummage in a trunk she watched the play of powerful muscles in his thighs. His body was strong, sleek, and utterly beautiful, like the drawings she had seen of pagan statues in one of Emile’s books. But unlike the statues, Corbeau was made of warm flesh, not cold marble.
    He pulled several towels, a bar of soap, and a razor from the trunk. Standing up, he walked nonchalantly toward the tub.
    Was he planning to bathe right in front of her? "What…what are you doing?" she stammered.
    "Making myself presentable again," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I apologize for the lack of privacy, madame, but what other choice is there?"
    "The river?"
    He gave a Gallic