Rogue's Hostage by Linda McLaughlin

Rogue's
Hostage





By
Linda McLaughlin





Historical
Romance





 





4 ½ stars and a Top Pick from Romantic Times!





Romantic
Times Nominee—Best Small Press Romance of 2003!





2nd
Place - Lorie Awards - Best 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.





 





(Previously
published by Amber Quill Press)





 





Buy
links:





Amazon:
http://amzn.com/B00BJO26OY





B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1005663623






Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/291719




Excerpt from Rogue’s Hostage:





Holding the towel to his shoulder, he walked over and stood by the bed to
check on the woman, who was still in a faint. Despite her pallor, he noted that
her skin was fine, her nose straight and thin. She had a lower lip just full
enough to entice a man to taste it, and a stubborn chin that dared him to try.
Under different circumstances…





She was perhaps not as lovely as he’d thought when he first saw her standing
in the clearing—her hair, the color of corn silk, shining in the sunlight.
Still, she was tall and fair, with slender curves and shapely ankles visible
beneath the short skirts of a farm wife.





And now she was a widow. He stared down at the woman and silently vowed to
see that no more innocents died today.





The woman gave a soft moan and opened her eyes. When she spotted him, she
shrank back against the wall, arms folded defensively across her breast. His
gut tightened. He didn’t enjoy terrifying women, but fear should make her
easier to control. She had already proven unpredictable.





Terror, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. "Who are you?"





"My name is Jacques Corbeau, lieutenant in the army of France. And you
are my captive."






* * *




Mara inhaled sharply, panic building inside her. This couldn’t be real. It
was all a bad dream. She would wake up soon and tell Emile about it, and they
would laugh. And laugh and laugh and…. She swallowed the hysteria engulfing
her.





"Madame, are you listening to me?"





The Frenchman’s voice, sharp and insistent, demanded her attention.
"There is not much time. My companions are not patient men. We must leave
soon, but first I want you to bind my shoulder. Where do you keep
bandages?"





Her mouth and throat were dry when she swallowed, but she choked out an
answer. "The trunk. Under the bed."





He squatted beside the bed, pulled out the trunk and rummaged through it.
She watched his every move, unable to take her eyes off him, alarmed by the
physical threat he represented.





He was a tall man who dominated the cabin as Emile never had, and his state
of undress revealed nearly every inch of his lean and powerful form. Not only
was he bare to the waist, but his breechclout and leggings failed to completely
cover his thighs and buttocks. He had a wide-shouldered, rangy body and long,
sinewy legs. He looked strong, virile, and infinitely dangerous.





A cold knot formed in Mara’s stomach. The French had killed her father and
now her husband. What would they do to her?





She wrapped her arms around her waist. Her grandfather would say whatever
happened was God’s will, but she rejected that idea. What kind of God allowed
such awful things to happen?





Fearfully, she watched as the Frenchman shoved the trunk back under the bed
and stood. He held out the bandages, and she froze. She couldn’t touch him, she
just couldn’t.





The man’s heavy black brows drew together in a fierce frown, but his voice
was without emotion. "Madame, I am all that stands between you and the men
who killed your husband. I can be persuaded to act as your protector. It is to
your advantage to do what I command."





He dropped the bandages beside her on the bed, then reached out to touch her
hair. "Must I remind you, in my companion’s eyes, scalps are more valuable
than live captives?"





Horror sliced through her fear. "Emile!" She shot off the bed and
bolted for the door. The Frenchman caught her around the waist before she could
reach it.





"It is too late, madame," he said in a hushed voice. "It is
done."





"No," she moaned, as she fought to banish the image of a bloody
scalp, raw flesh.





The Frenchman turned her toward him, holding her by the shoulders, and spoke
in an insistent voice. "Listen to me and be sensible. You must be strong
now. We have a long journey ahead of us."





Dazed, she stared at him. "A journey? To where?"





"Fort Duquesne."





Mara gasped. The dreaded enemy stronghold deep in the wilderness. She
struggled to get free, clawing at his powerful arms.





He gripped her tighter, grimacing as he did. "Stop it! What chance do
you think you have against three men? Do as I say and you will live. Refuse
and…" He let the implication hang in the air between them.





Live. Yes, that was what she must do. She must bide her time and stay
alive. Her brother would find her and exact revenge. But for now, she was on
her own.





She straightened her spine and stared into the Frenchman’s eyes. "How
do I know I can trust you, monsieur?"





He met her gaze, but a shadow darkened his eyes. "You have my word of
honor."





Bitterness filled her. "The word of a Frenchman? What is that
worth?"





"For the moment, madame, your life."






My
thanks to Tonya for hosting me today. Hope you are enjoying the Egg-cerpt
Exchange.





 





Linda






 





Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of history fostered by
her paternal grandmother and an incurable case of wanderlust inherited from her
father. She has traveled extensively within the United States and has visited
Mexico, Canada, & Australia. A lifelong dream came true with a trip to
England where she was able to combine sightseeing and theater with research for
her novels. A native of Pittsburgh, she now lives in Southern California with
her husband.





 





Her first book was Worth The Risk by Lyn O'Farrell.
Now Linda writes historical and Regency romance. She loves transporting her
readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life,
love is the sweetest reward.





 





She also writes sexy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi
Lamont.





 





Website:
http://www.lindamclaughlin.com/





Blog:
http://flightsafancy.blogspot.com/





Twitter:
https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont