The Pelican Bride Read Online Free Page A

we could simply walk the rest of the way to the fort?”
    She chuckled. “Not unless you have a mind to emulate Saint Peter and walk on water.”
    “And we know how well that ended,” he said drolly. “Massacre Island, they call it. I can’t help wondering how it got that terrible name.”
    “I’d rather not think about it.” Geneviève made out three vessels bobbing in the water. They looked alarmingly small. “Are we all going to fit on those little boats?”
    “We made it this far, my dear. The good God will surely see us to our final destination.”
    Geneviève nodded, reflecting not for the first time that God’swill could be a capricious thing. Several of their original party had perished at sea, and there was no guarantee the rest of them would reach the settlement without further incident.
    Perhaps she was being unduly cynical. Perhaps her faith was weak. But she couldn’t seem to control the questions that assailed her in unguarded moments.
    She squared her shoulders and smiled at the priest. “And thus far the journey has been . . . interesting, has it not? What do you think of Monsieur Lanier?”
    Following last night’s uncomfortable dinner conversation, Tristan Lanier had abruptly left the dining hall just as his handsome younger brother entered. Acquainting himself with each of the young women and the chaperones, Marc-Antoine bowed deeply, his engaging laughter ringing out loudly and often. He had remained talking to Father Mathieu when the women excused themselves to their quarters for the night.
    “He seems a man of strong appetites,” Father Mathieu replied dryly. “You would be wise to keep your little sister out of his sights.”
    “Why? Do you think he would . . .” Geneviève couldn’t finish the sentence. Had they escaped France only to thrust themselves into a worse predicament?
    Father Mathieu shook his head. “It is not the young captain’s behavior which bears watching, my dear, so much as that of our little Aimée.”
    So, he’d meant Marc-Antoine, not Tristan. Geneviève bit her lip, absurdly relieved. “I agree Aimée is too forward, but only because she is so innocent.”
    “Perhaps it’s time she learned what you and Jean Cavalier have done for her. It was he who broke you out of prison, and when he told me how you were treated there—”
    “And you , Father. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been willing to listen to Jean.”
    “Pssh. Child, I wouldn’t sleep at night knowing I’d left twoorphans behind to face that nightmare in the Cévennes—and all of it in the name of religion. It’s my hope to create a climate here where all Christians, whether Catholic or Reformed or something in between, will be free to worship together.” His voice rose above the roar of the surf, and he sounded stronger than she’d heard him in days.
    “A noble dream, Father.” She patted the trembling hand on her arm. “But I would not speak it within the hearing of Captain Lanier—nor anyone else in authority. We are yet a Catholic state, as long as Louis is on the throne.”
    “His Majesty thinks to keep the faith pure.” Father Mathieu shook his head. “But such excesses of materialism—and downright barbarism—I have never seen. How can it be right to murder one’s countrymen just because their interpretation of Scripture does not line up with that of the Pope? And how is it right to live in gilded halls which house at least one mistress and numbers of illegitimate children, when innocents like you and your sister are deprived of parents and driven out of their homes?”
    “Please, Father, have a care!” Geneviève stopped, clutching the priest’s arm. They had reached the shore and were within earshot of soldiers and sailors milling about, hoisting kegs and boxes and trunks onto their shoulders, splashing toward the boats.
    He gave her a sheepish smile. “You are right, of course. Besides, the sermon is wasted on the righteous. I shall save it for the audience