“And I’ve made up my mind about us. I believe we would be a good fit.”
“Mr. Fraser, I am—”
“My faither and stepmaither still reside in Montreal and they would be honored to have ye in their home. My stepmaither is also a lady, and she often told me to marry a member of the peerage, if the opportunity allowed.”
“Mr. Fraser”—Eleanor was growing quite uncomfortable—“you must know, I am already engaged.”
“I had heard.”
“I could not, nor do I intend to, break my engagement to Mr. MacLean.”
Chait frowned. “He’s a fugitive.”
“He is innocent.”
“He is facing murder charges—could possibly be tried and sentenced already. I thought ye’d cast him aside after what he did in Assiniboia.”
“What he did?” Eleanor swallowed the anger that swelled at his words. “He saw his own men massacred at his side.”
“Yet he somehow survived.”
“I do not like what you imply.”
“It matters not what happened in Assiniboia.” His voice was growing impatient and irritated. “I want to marry ye.”
Eleanor tried to remember her manners as she said, “I’m honored by your proposal, but my answer is no.”
Chait did not speak for a moment as he stared at her, his face incredulous. “We are a good match, and ye are a lady. Ye deserve to be with a man of exceptional taste and family connections. MacLean is nothing.”
If he thought to convince her, he was failing miserably. “Arran MacLean is an honorable, courageous, and brilliant man. He is my fiancé, and I will not dishonor him by continuing this conversation. Good day, Mr. Fraser.”
Eleanor turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.
Her heart thumped hard. “Unhand me!”
He immediately let her go. “Pardon me.” He lifted his chin. “But I have not concluded our conversation.”
“I have.” She smoothed the sleeve of her gown where he’d grabbed her. “Now, please, do not seek me out again.” She turned, and this time, she was able to remove herself from his presence.
Her entire body shook from the force of her emotions.
“I will not leave Jack River House until I have yer consent to marry me,” Chait called out. “I never change my mind and I always get what I want.”
She continued toward her tent as if she had not heard him—but his words stayed with her. Something about Chait Fraser’s proposal did not sit well with her, and she had no wish to find out what it might be. She prayed, with all her heart, that Arran would send word soon.
Fort William, NWC
Northern Lake Superior
August 17, 1816
A cold, steady rain fell against Arran’s shoulders as he silently pushed the light canoe away from the banks of the Kaministiquia River. Though the rain made his task more difficult and uncomfortable, it also aided in his escape. There were few men willing to venture out of their warm beds on a night such as this, and fewer still who might notice a lone figure fighting the current in the profound darkness. He had snuck out of the small window in their room, skirting the stockade wall until he reached the western gate, closing it behind him. There, he had stolen a small canoe and set out to warn Lord Selkirk.
It was near two in the morning, but Arran was not tired. His nerves were so taut and full of awareness, he couldn’t have slept even if he had wanted to. His friends were in imminent danger and so was Selkirk. Not only was Selkirk a friend and employer, he was also Eleanor’s relation and the founder of the colony Arran had worked tirelessly to build.
In the two months Arran had been away from Assiniboia, he had missed it more than he imagined. Though he’d been devastated in the days immediately following the massacre, he couldn’t deny that the colony still held his heart. It was the dream and hope of a colony for his fellow Scotsmen that had propelled him, and the goal of one day owning his own land. Assiniboia would always be a part of him, and no matter how many times he was defeated, he would always keep fighting for it. A flicker of hope burned in his heart for what he knew it could be—even if he didn’t live to see it.
That hope propelled him against the choppy waters of the Kaministiquia. Not only did he fight against the current, but also the wind, which seemed to push him back each time he moved the canoe forward.
