Although loosely based on the television series, "La Femme Nikita" owned by Warner Brothers, and on another television series from the province of Quebec that starred Roy Dupuis, called "Les Filles de Caleb", I feel that I've contributed just enough of my own imagination to the following story so that it qualifies as an original. As some of you may or may not know, Peta Wilson's background includes an Irish grandmother. These facts and the facts of Canadian history listed in the story, where the Irish immigrated to Montreal in the 1840-50's and other parts of New France form the basis for this "wee tale." The French of this era welcomed Irish Roman Catholics, whether sick or well to their shores with open arms in true Christian charity. As I have Michel say in the story "We remember'and we know what it is to have no one to help you'so we help."Sadly, our history proclaims this to be true.

This story then, was inspired by my "need" to see at least one story for M&N fan fiction that centers on Roy's and my native land. He is of course, a Quebecois, while I am of English descent. I admire and respect Roy and all of his work, as well as what he is presently accomplishing via his celebrity. To this end, I have tried to portray Quebec of the 1850's, to the best of my abilities, although my historical knowledge of that "distinct society" is thin at best. For example, the town of "St. Cecile" is totally fictitious, as is, to my knowledge,"Notre Dame d'Anges--Our Lady of Angels Cathedral." Also, I have never been to Montreal myself, and so I have no idea if the street"La Rue de Francis de saint"exists either. All three then, are "poetic license". I'm not Roman Catholic either, I'm Baptist, and so my one attempt at Latin in this story is the result of fondly remembered and yet long ago classes in high school on the subject.

To any other Quebecois who may read this, please keep these things in mind, knowing that your neighbour from Ontario 'your fellow Canadian'researched this as much as she was able to! If I have made any errors in the French I used, I do apologize, but I do not speak the language as much as I would like to. Instead, I relied upon a website that translates one language to another. I realize that tenses can be a problem in direct translations, and so again'. to my Quebecois family members'. I'm sorry if my attempts at your language are imperfect.

To our friends of other nationalities'I hope that you will be inspired to learn a little more about your neighbour of the north by perusing the websites I've listed at the end of my story! We are like you'. and yet, as the Quebecois are so correct in saying'"distinct"!! Enjoy my friends!

Teaser

Sixteen-year-old Nikita O'Hara stood, head bowed over the rail of the ship that was taking her and her family to New France. A violent gust of wind caught her waist-length, pale blond tresses and whipped them wildly about her anguished face.

Nikita swayed and clung tightly to the railing, feeling unwell, but knew she was healthier than the rest of her family; her remaining family, she mentally amended.

Her fourteen-year old sister, Karen, had died the night before and her body had been consigned to the sea, with no priest to confess her, or pronounce the last rites. At the thought of her sweet sister's body slipping into the cold, damp arms of the deep, Nikita sobbed aloud, allowing her tears to fall unheeded down her face.

Dark-haired and lovely like their mother, yet frail and sickly like their father, Karen had been both Nikita's sister and best friend. More than that though, Karen had been a sweet soul that she would miss dearly. Perhaps it had been a miracle that she had survived as long as she did, but nevertheless, Nikita was sure her sister was in Heaven with their Papa. Despite the teachings of the Church, surely it wouldn't matter to God whether words had been said or not.

Nikita's Papa, Adam O'Hara had been another sweet soul. He had died before they had left Ireland. A weak heart, the local doctor had said. Nikita resembled her Papa, who'd been a true Nordic blond, but she had her Mama's strength. The sisters at the convent had always teased her about being so pale and she hated feeling so plain and washed out. If only she could have resembled Karen and her Mama, who were both dark-haired, dark eyed beauties; almost Spanish in their good looks. Nikita was proud of how lovely they were. Mama wasn't very beautiful right now though. When Nikita left her a little while ago, she had been sleeping and her face had been tear-stained and swollen.

Enough,' Nikita stubbornly decided. She willed herself to calm down and stay on deck until her tears dried before going below to face her mother.

What had Papa always said? Don't dwell on the past. The present is all you havejust be thankful for what you can get.' Mama would remember that in time, Nikita thought. Perhaps right now she just needed some more time to console Nikita's brother Seymour, who at twelve years old was not dealing with all their losses as yet.

First they had lost Papa, then their farm in Ireland and now Karen.

English landlords had effectively impoverished everyone in Ireland, leaving Nikita's father with broken health and a broken heart. High taxes, and thievery had taken the O'Hara's from being a relatively wealthy family to the point where the newly widowed Belinda found it necessary to take what little money they had left and flee to New France.

As if being a widow wasn't bad enough, Belinda found herself an easy target for their snake of a landlord, Lord Ackerman. The disgusting Englishman had tried to demand more than the taxes that were owed to him from the lovely widow O'Hara.

Nikita shivered. Ackerman had even turned his vile attentions in Nikita's direction on several occasions! She was relieved that that particular monster was back in Ireland where he couldn't bother her or Mama again.

Chapter 1

Nikita glanced out to sea and turned her thoughts to New France and wondered what life there would be like.

Uncle Walter had left Ireland for the new world ten years ago, seeking to have a better life. Anywhere the hated English did not have authority over your fate seemed like a little slice of heaven.

Then Belinda wrote to Walter about losing her darling Adam. Walter, wisely knowing the rest of the situation and his sister-in-laws' pride, wrote back inviting her and her children to come and live with him and his bride in New France. They had lots of room in their rambling farmhouse and both he and his young French wife Simone would dearly love to have them live with them as long as they wished. Simone could always use help around the house, he'd said. They were so well off that they'd had to hire help and Walter was certain that the farm could support all of them.

According to Walter, farming in New France was based on a feudal system, like seigneurial system in France. One of the most important differences in the seigneurial system in New France was that the habitants effectively owned their plots and even had the right to will them to their children. Simone's family had left her a large and prosperous farm. She'd been an only child and although her family was not initially impressed with the gentle and teasing Irishman who'd stolen her heart, they came to love him as a son when they saw how much Simone adored him. Simone, Walter assured Belinda, would help them improve their convent school French and they in turn would help her improve her English and help with the housekeeping chores.

Nikita sighed. Now there'd be one less set of hands to help her Aunt Simone.

She hoped that life wouldn't be too lonely for them in this new world they were headed to; although she did remember that Uncle Walter mentioning there was a large family on the neighboring farm with girls and boys who Seymour would be attending school with. Nikita wouldn't be going to school though. At sixteen, her school days were over.

'Now what was their last name again? Samuelle?' Nikita pondered. She hoped they'd like Seymour. He was quite shy and didn't make friends easily.

Friends. Nikita realized with a start that with Karen gone, all her friends were back in Ireland. It made her hope that at least one member of the Samuelle family would befriend her.

Chapter 2

Two days later, a more hopeful Nikita leaned over the ship's railing once again gazed at the St Lawrence River, while she drank in the amazing view in front of her. This time her eyes danced with excitement! They'd finally arrived in New France--Montreal to be precise.

After three months of being cramped inside the miserably damp, wooden ship, Nikita was desperate to feel solid ground beneath her feet once again. She tapped her foot impatiently and wondered how long it would take for the ship to dock.

While Belinda and Seymour sat patiently behind her on their luggage waiting for the ship to dock, Nikita found it difficult to sit when they were so very close to their destination.

Montreal was huge from what she could see! Dozens of houses, both large and small, made of brick and stone along with churches, convents and fortress like walls stretched before her as far as the eye could see. It was a magnificent sight.

Uncle Walter had written to her mother describing the city as big, but this was far more than Nikita had expected.

Walter had explained that originally the city had been conceived as a center of evangelization for the Huron and Algonquin Indians on the Island of Montreal. The Jesuits and several other religious men, like Cardinal de Richelieu of the royal court in France, founded a society as early as 1636 with the view of gaining land there. The man who was recognized as being Montreal's founder, according to Uncle Walter, was a young retired career soldier named Samuel de Champlain. Apparently, this Champlain and his friends had risked great opposition on the project. Their opponents had even called founding Montreal an "insane enterprise"but they had pressed on, building their first "habitation" by 1642.

Nikita snorted. If this place was an "insane enterprise,"then the French sense of insanity was absolutely wonderful!

Returning her attention to her immediate surroundings, Nikita observed the people who had been their fellow passengers. They were an odd assortment of Roman Catholics and Protestants both English and Irish, young and old. Back home in Ireland, both religious groups kept to themselves most of the time. Onboard a ship, that was harder to do. The groups had mingled freely throughout the voyage, but not always unhappily.

She was glad there had been other Irish families on board like the Riley's and the O'Flannagan's and they had been kind, to be sure. She would miss them, especially the children. There had been a few boys her age, but she dismissed them in her mind as being course and unkempt.

At first, Nikita wasn't sure what to make of the few English passengers that had been aboard. In Nikita's experience, all of the English people she had ever met had been rich and cruel. These people, however, were just a poor as Nikita's family, and although they were Protestants, they had been kind to her and her family. Especially after Karen's death. The Englishwoman, Mrs. Jones had kindly hugged Mama and comforted Nikita and Seymour even though her stiffed necked husband seemed to disapprove. Their daughter, Amelia had been shy but very sweet to both Nikita and Karen. She'd even cried with Nikita when Karen died.

The other English ladies, Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Richardson had also been kind, and Nikita actually felt she would miss them. They, and the rest of the English families, were going on to a place named Kingston, further up the St. Lawrence River and it was unlikely Nikita would ever see them again.

Nikita turned from her thoughts and looked over her shoulder at her Mama.

"Mama, Uncle Walter is coming isn't he? He wrote he would, right?" Nikita queried for the fourth time.

"Aye, childhush. Be patient. He has a long drive to the city from the farm. He could even be there now although you're not seeing him yet,"

Seymour eased himself off their luggage and joined Nikita at the rail. He gazed over the city of Montreal and then turned back to Belinda, his eyes dancing as well.

"Mama, I never thought Montreal would be such a large place. I can see lots of large stone buildings and magnificent churches and so many people" he said breathlessly.

"Aye,. sure'n it is a grand sight. Belinda agreed, smiling at him indulgently.

Nikita beamed at both of them. It was good to see Mama smiling again.

Looking towards the dock, Nikita spotted an open wagon with two people seated in it. One was a young man dressed in simple clothes with a black cap perched backwards on his wavy shoulder length auburn hair. He was driving the wagon. The other was an older man with gray hair who was wearing a distinctively looking Irish hat.

'Papa had worn a hat like that ,' Nikita thought, looking closer. 'This man even looked a little like Papa. Could it be?' "Mama? Is that Uncle Walter?" Nikita pointed at the wagon excitedly.

Belinda got up from the luggage and strolled to the railing to join her children. She gazed in the direction Nikita was pointing and smiled.

"Well dear; it's been years, but yes, that's your Papa's brother Walter. I told you he'd be here." Belinda sighed with relief.

"Who is that with him, Mama?" Seymour asked.

"Sure'n it might be his hired hand come with him to help with all our bags me darlin' " Belinda surmised.

Chapter 3

Nikita took another look at the young man accompanying her uncle. The closer the ship approached the dock, the more intriguing he looked.

From what Nikita could make out, he was quite handsome, with a strong angular face and a full mouth that quirked at the corners as he talked animatedly with her uncle.

His thick wavy auburn hair was brushed backwards and tucked neatly behind his ears, grazing his broad shoulders. His body although tall, was muscular and compact.

He was wearing a faded blue shirt that opened slightly at his neck, and dark blue trousers with black suspenders. Though worn, the clothes looked clean and his black boots were highly polished.

Nikita guessed the young man to be slightly older than her and she smiled hopefully. It would be nice to finally know a young man her own age.

Nikita continued to watch as the young man spoke to her uncle. Whatever it was that he said made her uncle laugh. She was further intrigued and hoped he'd be making the return trip with them to the farm.

Finally, the O'Hara family disembarked the ship and found Walter in the crowd. He looked them over pensively and said, "I thought you had two girls, Belinda?"

Belinda looked at Walter sadly. Her lips trembled and her dark brown eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

"Karen died on the voyage here, Walter. Her heart was weak just like my poor Adam's was."

Walter paled visibly. "Oh Belinda, I'm so sorry. Come here, darlin'."

Finally, Walter released Belinda and looked at Nikita and Seymour.

Nikita stood by miserably while Walter hugged her mama. She noticed that the young man who'd come with her uncle was standing quietly aside, holding his cap in front of him with both his hands. He watched the proceedings with solemn green eyes, respectfully silent in the face of Belinda's grief.

~*~*~*~*~

Nineteen-year-old Michel Samuelle quietly stood watching his friend Walter, who was hugging his newly arrived sister-in-law.

The woman was a classic Spanish beauty, dark and somber in her black widow's garb. Michel thought she hardly seemed old enough to be the mother of the two children who stood at her side.

Glancing at the boy, Michel estimated his age to be about twelve, and noted his solid build, no doubt from laboring on his father's farm. The boy's young face was openly intelligent and sprinkled with a fair amount of freckles.

The boy nervously shifted from one foot to another and shoved a handful of straight, coppery hair under his cap and out of his blue eyes, before acknowledging Michel with a nod of his head.

Michel briefly acknowledged the nod with one of his own, and then turned his attention to the other sibling.

At first the spacious hood of her soft, dark green cape concealed the girl's face, but then an wayward gust of wind caught it back and Michel found himself transfixed. She was absolutely the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

'Une tres belle femme! Angelique!'

Michel was inwardly bemused at his involuntary description of the beauty in front of him. He had to admit, though, that her appearance certainly was angelic.

Michel chuckled inwardly at the irony of the situation. Earlier in the day, he'd visited his twin sister Marie at her convent. He'd laughed at Marie when she told him she had dreamed he'd meet and marry an angel.

Marie's ideas had amused him so much that he'd laughed out loud when he told Walter what she'd said, and then he commented that Marie had become a little too religious.

"C'etait ridicule-It's ridiculous," Michel had told Walter. "Convent life is changing Marie's way of thinking. I can't believe it! She's even more religious than she used to be."

It was amazing to think that Marie and he were twins. One major difference between them was their religious outlooks. While Marie had always focused heavily on spiritual things, Michel was extremely practical. This latest conversation with his sister only served to underline those differences.

Michel didn't believe that angels walked the earth. While he believed what the priests taught in church about angels, that was the extent of his belief in heavenly beings. Marriage too, was the last thing on his mind. To hear Marie link angels with him and marriage had been quite amusing. Just before he had burst out laughing, he realized that Marie had seen in his expression that he thought her dream was ridiculous. Michel shook his head slightly as he remembered that she had just smiled that irritatingly charming smile of hers and had gently patted his hand.

"You'll see Michel. Angels do exist in this life. I know you're going to meet one." Marie had said sweetly.

Michel snorted again in impatience. He didn't have time to waste on impractical things. Work on the farm in the spring, summer and fall kept him very busy. For the last four years too, he had industriously earned money in the winter while working in the woods as le courreur des bois --literally: runner of the woods, or fur trapper. Furs were very lucrative. The Hudson's Bay Company treated les courreur des bois fairly and Michel managed to save quite a tidy sum of money for his future. But marriage? He hadn't ever seriously considered it. The neighboring girls were nice enough, but none of them interested him as a potential wife.

He knew that Elena Lapierre who lived on the next farm wanted to marry him. She was beautiful and would inherit her father's farm, but she was a little too forward for him. She claimed to love him, but Michel was unaffected by her charms. He found it curious that she couldn't see that he had no romantic feelings towards her at all and that she continued to delude herself that he returned her feelings. Her overt displays of affection only made him wish to avoid her altogether. She was also 'une femme autoritaire' -bossy, was what Walter called her. Michel briefly shut his eyes and shuddered to think what his life would be like married to Elena.

Michel swiftly returned his thoughts to the young Irish woman standing in front of him and opened his eyes again. He was finding it increasingly difficult not to stare at her.

'This Irish girl is so beautiful,' he thought. 'Is it possible? Was Marie right? Was this the 'angel' that her dream had foretold?'

Chapter 4

While Michel was not quite sure yet if he believed in dreams, he was sure he believed that all things worked together for a good reason. It couldn't just be co-incidence that first Marie had told him that he'd meet an "angel" and now he was looking at a girl who certainly could be described as one!

Michel's eyes caressed her face as he tried to determine her age. She was tall and had exquisite features. He finally decided that she might be about sixteen or seventeen. Perfect.

Michel examined this "angel" further. Her figure was definitely enticing; but that wasn't what made her appear to be an angel. It was her hair. He'd never seen hair that colour before. It was such a fair shade of blond that it was almost white. Now that her hood had fallen off her face, Michel could see that her hair, like the brightest sunshine flowed in thick, soft, gleaming waves down the sides of her beautiful heart shaped face; reaching her waist.

And those eyes! They were large, expressive, and as blue as the sky on a bright summer day. Michel was sure he could happily drown in those eyes. Looking closer, he saw that they were fringed with long, thick dark lashes and framed by beautifully arched, blond brows.

She was blessed with milk-white skin, blushed with the palest of pink roses across her cheeks and a full, soft looking pink mouth that begged to be kissed.

Suddenly, Michel realized that he wanted to kiss her in the worst way. He realized something else too. There was no turning back, even if he wanted to. and he didn't want to. Michel shook his head in silent amazement. The feelings he felt bursting to life within himself were beyond belief! He hadn't even spoken to this girl yet, but after only a few moments in her company, he was already hopelessly and completely smitten.

Nver again would he doubt his sister's dreams. He was about to meet an "angel" and he knew instantly that he had to make her his bride. Whatever it took.

Chapter 5

Michel shook himself from his thoughts as he heard Walter say, "This must be Nikita and this is Seymour, right?"

Addressing Seymour first Walter said, "Give your old Uncle Walter a hug, me lad."

Then he turned to Nikita and said, "Sugar, give this old man a hug. Sure'n you remind me of my little brother; may God rest his soul."

Then remembering his manners, Walter turned to the young man behind him and said, "This is my neighbour, Michel Samuelle. Michel, this is my brother's widow Belinda and her daughter Nikita and her son Seymour. Michel had business in Montreal earlier today and graciously offered to come with me to give a hand with all your luggage."

Nikita watched the young man before her and was again struck by how handsome he was, with his curling auburn hair and beautiful green eyes. Thick, dark brows framed those eyes and now that he was close, Nikita saw that he had a full, soft looking mouth set in a rugged, angular looking face. He was about her height, she guessed, and he had broad muscular looking shoulders and strong looking arms. His torso tapered to a flat waist, and even through his dark blue trousers, she could tell that he had powerfully built legs.

As Michel greeted her mother, Nikita watched the beautiful young man in front of her from beneath shuttered lashes. The physical power of the man became even more apparent, as Nikita watched him move towards her mother with an almost cat-like grace. Michel was clearly a man who worked with his hands and worked hard. However, when he bowed over her mother's hand, and brushed his lips softly against it, he no longer appeared to be a farmer, but rather almost aristocratic in his bearing. Nikita listened intently to see what he would say to her Mama.

"Bonjour Madame O'Hara. Bienvenue a Montreal, he said softly in French, and then repeated in English, "Welcome to Montreal, Mrs. O'Hara. I am very sorry for your loss."

Belinda quietly murmured her thanks, and then Michel turned his attention to Nikita. As he had with her mother, he gently raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed it.

Nikita. What an exotic name! It suits her,' he decided as he gazed intently into her cerulean eyes.

"Enchante Mademoiselle Nikita et bienvenue a Montreal aussi." Michel greeted her softly.

Nikita shivered at the way he pronounced her name. Her heart was thumping so loudly, she was sure that everyone present could hear it. Michel's soft, sensuous but fully masculine voice caressed each syllable of her name and made it sound like "Ni-keet-tah". She felt like her knees were liquefied and as she looked into the greenest pair of eyes she'd ever seen and found herself blushing furiously.

Pulling herself together, Nikita looked straight into his eyes and softly responded, "Merci Monsieur Samuelle. C'tait tres gentil de vous venir a Montreal avec Walter d'Oncle pour nous aider." As she spoke, she hoped her convent school learned French had conveyed her message clearly--It was very kind of Michel to accompany her Uncle Walter to Montreal and help her and her family.

Michel blinked and then he rewarded her with a smile that was so dazzling that it took her breath away. She managed to regain her composure and returned his smile demurely. She was trembling all over from his touch, but she did manage to register that she'd taken him by surprise. He obviously hadn't expected her to be able to speak French. The nuns would be so proud of her!

Chapter 6

Michel felt her trembling as he briefly continued to hold her hand and was pleased that he wasn't the only one so affected. She's the one. I just know it. Does she feel it too? Is that why she's trembling like that?' he thought.

Remembering his own manners, Michel reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the woman who had so quickly and unknowingly captured his heart. Turning towards her brother Seymour, Michel said, "Salut. I mean, hello Seymour. Perhaps you can help me begin to load the wagon with your luggage."

"Hello Mr. Samuelle. Pleased to meet you. Sure, I'll be glad to help." Seymour said shaking Michel's hand quickly and then both of them quietly turned to the task at hand.

Soon Michel and Seymour had all their possessions in Walter's wagon and Michel gallantly helped Belinda up into the front of the wagon next to Walter. He then carefully assisted Nikita into the back seat of the wagon and then gracefully jumped up to sit next to her, and Seymour sat on her other side.

Just the touch of her hand on his as he assisted her into the wagon almost was his undoing.

'I want her to be my angel-my wife!' he thought.

Michel shuddered and closed his eyes, amazed at his own thoughts.

'This isn't logical-what is wrong with me? I've just met the girl!'

Nikita was afraid she'd stare if she looked at Michel, so she tried to occupy her mind with other things. She wasn't having much success though and kept stealing furtive glances at him while arguing with herself.

'Michel is Uncle Walter's neighbor? I hope that means I'll get to see more of him! He's so handsome! Stop it, Nikita! It's not proper to stare at the man! You just met him! What will he think of you! Think about something else.'

Thankfully, she realized that her Uncle Walter liked to talk and settled in to listen as he described what it had been like for the Irish who arrived, like him, ten years ago to live in New France.

"After we fled the potato famine, thousands of us Irish arrived here in New France crammed into coffin ships, either dead or dying. Many ended up at the quarantine station on Grosse Isle-that's it over there." Walter said pointing to what appeared to be an island behind them in the St. Lawrence River. "In 1847, there was an Irish priest, called Father McGauran, who was assigned to Grosse Isle by the Bishop of Montreal to comfort the famine victims dying of typhus and cholera. Even though that was ten years ago, it was so bad; we still call it the "Summer of Sorrows." When it finally ended, we found that between 6,000 and 15,000 Irish had died. Entire families were wiped out. It's my opinion that Father McGauran's rescue effort would have been impossible in Ireland. The French were wonderful in their support of him. Also, many French families adopted Irish orphans and allowed them to keep their Irish names as a sign of respect to their parents. Father McGauran headed up a bunch of other religious men on Grosse Isle, both English and French, rich and poor. He worked tirelessly and fell ill with typhus himself. He's recovered since then and now the good Father is talking about opening a refuge for the Irish elderly, orphans and the destitute."

Nikita shuddered . 'Fifteen thousand people? Entire families died? I'm so thankful that something like that didn't happened on the ship we were on! Karen dying had been bad enough. At least I still have Seymour and Mama.'

Michel felt her shudder and spoke up softly, his gentle voice calming her once again. "My people helped the good Father because we understand poverty and exile."

He went on to explain that almost one hundred years earlier, when the English forces led by General James Wolfe defeated General Le Marquis du Montcalm at the Plains of Abraham, many French families were burned out or forcibly removed from their homes and sent to the United States.

"The English moved into their homes and took everything they owned." He gestured eloquently, and then added, "We rememberand we know what it is to have no one to help you. so we help." He looked over at Nikita and smiled warmly. "As I said before, you are most welcome here."

'She's watching me. but she doesn't think I see her doing it. I wonder what she's thinking?' Michel marveled. I wonder what she'd do if I caught her doing it.' He decided to find out.

Chapter 7

The next time Nikita glanced at Michel, she found him gazing at her with what could almost be called a hunger in his forest green eyes. She felt her cheeks grow warm again and she modestly adverted hers.

'She's acting as skittish as a colt! Could she be interested in me too?' Michel wondered. Oh yes God, please! I just know she's the one I've been waiting for. I have to talk to Walter as soon as I can. I'd better not stare at her anymore, I can't risk scaring her. What I need to do is relax and just try to enjoy her company. Maybe then she won't be so nervous.'

Walter continued to point out various points of interest as they continued their journey out of Montreal. Churches, shops and historical landmarks all came under his scrutiny.

The remainder of the day found Michel, Nikita and Seymour talking together companionably in both English and French all the way back to Uncle Walter's farm.

Nikita found Michel to be a charming companion, who laughed easily and smiled a lot. She was amazed to see shy Seymour responding to Michel as openly as he had with their cousins back home in Ireland. Seymour, it seemed, had found a friend.

Michel informed Seymour that his younger brothers and sisters would be attending school with him. Michel assured Seymour that he would meet many people his age there.

Nikita was relieved as she thought, If the other members of the Samuelle family are as kind as Michel, Seymour will soon have lots of friends.'

Walter talked quietly to Belinda until she drifted off to sleep, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Soon Walter found that he was contenting himself with listening to the young people talk. He was amazed that the normally quiet Michel was being so animated and expressive. He glanced back over his shoulder at Michel and noted that the young man was completely taken up by his niece.

'She is a beauty' he thought. 'No wonder Michel's acting this way.' Walter sighed and as he turned back to his driving, and wondered how many young men he'd have to scare off. Maybe, Michel would solve that problem for him.

And why not,' Walter wondered. Perhaps Michel could be persuaded..?'

Chapter 8

After they arrived at Walter and Simone's farm, Michel helped Seymour and Walter unload the wagon and take the luggage upstairs in the house. While they waited for the men, Aunt Simone and Belinda talked together in the parlor and Nikita wandered into the kitchen, where she introduced herself to Aunt Simone's cook, Madame Desrosiers. Nikita watched the older French woman as she made dinner, talking to her in French and gradually doing little things to help. Madame Desrosiers just smiled at her and allowed her to continue.

A good girl, this one. So sweetand so beautiful. She's old enough to have a husband and a family of her own. Someone like young Michel Samuelle,' Madame Desrosiers thought. She'd seen him arrive with her employer and his Irish relatives. She'd known the young man all his life and liked him very much. Her son Henri and Michel's papa Paul had gone to school together. Michel's a good boy. but he's lonely I think. He doesn't bother with any of the young women around here. What he needs is a wife-and babies. Perhaps this girl will be the one he'll marry.' Madame Desrosiers thought. She decided to pray for both young people as she continued with her dinner preparations.

The men came downstairs and were standing in the front hallway just outside the parlor, just as Nikita approached the hallway from the back of the house to let the family know that dinner would be ready in one hour. She was about to push the door open to deliver her message when she heard her aunt inquire

"You'll stay for dinner Michel, oui ?"

"I really should be getting home, Simone. Maman and Papa are probably expecting me." Michel said.

"Nonsense lad, it's almost dusk. Stay for supper and you can go home tomorrow morning. It's summer. You'll be comfortable in the barn loft overnight." Walter interjected.

"D'accord.very well Simone. Merci , Walter. I will stay." Michel politely responded.

Although she was tired from her long journey, Nikita was deliriously happy that Michel was going to be staying for supper. She knew it would be inappropriate to let that emotion be seen though, so she paused to collect herself just before opening the door to speak to her aunt. At that moment, Nikita heard Simone speak to Michel again.

"Michel, how is Marie? You did see her when you were in Montreal, oui ?"

Nikita felt her heart stop. Marie? Who was that? Was Michel courting someone? Did he have a fiancee?' Nikita moaned. Of course he did. Someone as breathtakingly beautiful as this man would surely have a woman in his life.' Tears of misery welled up in her eyes and she felt a sharp pain of despair in her chest.

Chapter 9

At that moment, Nikita knew that she was in love with Michel Samuelle. So much in love that the very idea of him being with someone else made her heart break. She felt ill. However, the next words she heard felt like a reprieve from disaster.

"My sister is well, thank you. Convent life agrees with her. She sends her warmest regards."

Nikita's heart leapt for joy. His sister? He'd gone to visit his sister at her convent in Montreal? That had been his "business" there?' Nikita sighed in relief. Then her mind turned to grimmer possibilities again.

'So, he'd been to visit his sister. That didn't mean there wasn't a "special someone" in the area.' Her heart sank again.

There probably is someone in the area that he's interested in; I don't have a prayer of him being interested in me. Why would someone as handsome as him be interested in someone as plain as me?' She thought miserably. A man as handsome as him can probably get any girl he wants--and he'd probably want a beauty like Karen had been. Oh God! I know I'm asking for the impossible, but oh, how I wish he would be interested in me!'

Nikita quickly wiped her eyes on the backs of her hands and quietly opened the door she'd been lurking behind. Demurely she cleared her throat to gain attention and glanced underneath her lashes at Michel. Although she didn't realize it, she blushed charmingly too. Then, remembering her errand, she turned to speak to her aunt.

Walter, Simone and Michel turned at the sound behind them. Nikita was standing there, blushing slightly and looking demurely in Michel's direction from under her long dark lashes. Simone noticed with some amusement that neither man could take their eyes off her young niece. Walter was gazing at her with a fond smile on his face, but Michel's gaze fairly scorched the blond beauty before them.

Mon Dieu! She is so beautiful!' Michel thought. I have to make her mine!'

Walter was sadly remembering his younger brother as he turned from looking at his niece towards Michel. Nikita looks so much like Adam,' he thought. As he turned to speak to Michel, he looked at the young man's face and saw Michel's reaction to Nikita.

Immediately Walter knew he had to take action! He needed to talk to Michel right away! This needed to be controlled or contained at the very least!

"Aunt Simone?" Nikita said softly, not noticing the looks on either man's face and the reaction her uncle had just experienced. "Madame Desrosiers said to tell you that dinner would be ready in one hour."

Simone turned back to look at Nikita. "Thank you dear," she said smiling at her niece. Then she turned to Walter and said, "Walter dear, where did Seymour go?"

Walter spoke up. "He said he was going to the barn. Nikita, if you wish, you could join him there for a while. Our mare just had a foal. Perhaps you'd like to go and see her."

Nikita looked at her Uncle Walter with some confusion. She knew what he really meant . Perhaps? If I wish? Those aren't suggestions; they're a subtle way of saying "Go child and don't argue." What is going on here? I'm not a child. The foal is an excuse of some kind-to get me out of the house, but why? Why is Uncle Walter ushering me outside away from their conversation?'

Recognizing that it wasn't likely that she'd get an answer, she reluctantly nodded and obediently turned to go outside.

After Nikita left, Walter turned to Michel and beckoned him into his study on the other side of the hallway. With a puzzled look on his face, Michel nodded and then followed him inside, turning to watch Walter shut the double doors behind him.

Simone smiled at their retreating backs. She had seen the way Michel looked at Nikita and she was delighted.

Chapter 10

Simone had grown up helping Madeleine care for Marie, Michel and all of the Samuelle children when they'd been mere babies. The Samuelles' were wonderful people. She'd always liked Michel as if he were her own little brother. Simone knew him very well, and felt the young man needed to settle down.

Simone wondered how Belinda would take what she was sure was coming next. She smirked as she turned towards the parlor where Belinda sat waiting for her to return. It was time to extol the charms of Monsieur Samuelle to an obviously exhausted Irish mother. It would be an extremely pleasant task.

********************************************

In the meantime, behind the closed doors of Walter's study, there was a strange confrontation brewing. Walter circled Michel while the younger man stood in front of Walter's ledger filled desk with his hands clasping his cap sedately in front of him.

"Okay Michel, out with it." Walter demanded. "I saw how you looked at Nikita. I've known you for too long not to know when we need to talk."

"Well," said Michel, clearing his throat nervously. "Actually, I did want to talk to you. And it is about your niece, Nikita."

"I'm not surprised." The Irishman said. "You practically devoured her with your eyes out there."

Michel's face flushed to the roots of his wavy auburn hair. "What do you mean? Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, son. Now out with it." Walter said, with some amusement, as he turned to sit in the dark green leather chair that was behind his large oak desk.

"Since her Papa is dead, I must ask you." Michel said softly, adverting his eyes to the floor.

"Ask me what Michel?" Walter knew what was coming. He had no intention of refusing Michel's request, but he was enjoying this new game immensely.

"Do I have your permission, as her eldest male relative, to court your niece Nikita?" Michel asked with a certain amount of fear in his voice. "I want to marry her, if she'll have me."

"Well Michel, I'm not sure about this. This is sudden, isn't it? Aren't you the one who was laughing just earlier today about Marie's dreams of matrimony for you?" Walter teased gently. "Found your 'angel', have you?"

Walter saw the young man turn pale, and gestured at a nearby chair, indicating that Michel should sit down.

Michel dropped listlessly into the chair. His mind was reeling.

Is Walter going to refuse me permission to court Nikita? Why would he object? Walter's known me practically all my life! I've never asked him for anything before. Surely he wouldn't be so cruel that he would deny me this chance to court Nikita? I have to make her my wife!'

"Yes, Walter, I believe I have. Please." Michel managed to choke out. His distress felt almost physical.

Poor Michel--He looks like he's going to pass out. I guess he doesn't need the persuasion I thought he might need before. He's in love!' Walter thought in amusement.

He could understand how a young woman of Nikita's beauty could affect Michel in this way. Walter knew just how Michel felt. Simone was his 'angel'. If anything were to happen to heror if anyone were to keep them apart, Walter just knew he'd act just the way Michel was acting now.

Walter was a little concerned, so he got up from his desk and went to the bookcase behind his chair. He kept a small emergency cache of liquor on the middle shelf. He reached for it and poured a small glass of Irish whiskey for each of them. Then he reached over his desk, handed one of those glasses to Michel.

"Here lad, drink this," Walter ordered. "You need to calm down a little."

Michel took the glass and obeyed, choking the amber liquor down and sputtering a little afterwards. Then he leaned forward and put his empty glass on Walter's desk. After a minute or two, Walter noted with some satisfaction that some color seemed to be coming back to Michel's face, and that his breathing seemed better.

Walter sat down again behind his desk with his glass and grinned mischievously at Michel.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Michel. Of course you have my permission to court Nikita. I wish you every success. You'll have to convince her Mama, of course. Tell her your intentions are honorable and assure her you're not a pauper." Walter teased gently, taking pity on him.

"No, Walter, I'm not a pauper." Michel said adjusting his position in the chair as he took his twisted cap and tucked it into his waistband under his left suspender. "In fact, I am just the opposite. I would prefer if you would keep what I'm about to tell you between the two of us. If you would, please convince Nikita's Mama of my character and good intentions. You'll understand when I tell you about what else I learned during my visit with Marie today."

"What do you mean?" Walter asked, intrigued.

"Please understand that I'm telling you this so that you will know that I am serious about wanting to marry Nikita and that I will be able to provide quite well for her." Michel said. "My mother's brother, Etienne Bouchard, died recently and left me half of his personal wealth in his will, plus several hundred shares in The Hudson's Bay Company. I'm sure you're aware of the person I mean. He was the shipbuilder who lived on La Rue de Francis de saint in Montreal. He left the other half of his personal wealth to his two daughters, Antoinette and Marie-Claire."

"I have spoken to my cousins, and they will not contest this. The business will remain theirs and their husbands' and they will continue to run it just as they have since Uncle Etienne became ill four years ago. My Uncle Etienne's brother, Philippe, gave me this news today. My Uncle Philippe is Father Bouchard; the priest at Marie's convent; Notre Dame d'Anges --Our Lady of Angels."

"Uncle Philippe told me this news and that he was the executor of his brother's estate. He is a good man and he has already made sure that the shares are in a safety deposit box and this money is in an account for me in a certain bank in Montreal. This is the key for that box."

Michel opened the top two buttons of his shirt to reveal a key hanging on a chain around his neck. He noted with some satisfaction that Walter was listening intently and that the look on his face was very serious. He could tell that the older man was fascinated with the information he was telling him.

Michel continued, "I have always thought that la famille de Bouchard felt that Maman married beneath her social standing when she married Papa." Michel snorted in disgust at such a ridiculous notion. Perhaps that is why we did not see all that much of them over the years. Social standing is a fool's notion, n'est pas ? Isn't it more important to marry for love than for status in society? I know Maman married Papa for love and I thank her for being wise enough to do so. Je sais que notre famille a toujours le feutre qui aime ils partagent -- I know our family has always felt that love they share. As far as I know she had always been happy with him, even though they are not wealthy."

Walter noted with some amusement that Michel was jumping back and forth from English to French. The young man always did that when he was passionately discussing something. This was fascinating. Walter listened as Michel was revealed a side of himself that Walter had never seen before, and he kept quiet, as he didn't want to stem this fascinating oration.

"I did not know my Uncle Etienne that well, but it seems this is his way of showing that he did not agree with la decision de Bouchard de grand-pere contre le mariage de la Maman-- grandfather Bouchard's decision against Maman's marriage. I would be a fool not to accept what has been denied to Maman because of her choice of a husband."

"I too, intend to marry for love. I know I've just met her Walter, but I love your niece Nikita. How could I not love her? She is a wonderful, lovely young lady and I just know she is 'the one' for me. I won't rush her, but I do hope that in time, she will come to love me too. The money I've been given will help Nikita and I have a good life and I intend to see that my entire family is looked after with that money as well."

Walter was astonished. Even though he'd entertained thoughts of Michel falling in love with Nikita, Michel's actual declaration of love for his niece was stunning. Michel was not a person who talked about his feelings normally. Add to this the fact that he was now a very wealthy man was astounding for someone who was just nineteen-years-old! Walter was also surprised to realize that even though he had known Michel for a long time, he hadn't been aware of the connection between the Bouchard and Samuelle families. This last fact alone was an amazing revelation.

Over the years he'd gathered enough reliable sources of society gossip to know for a fact that Etienne Bouchard had been the wealthiest man in Montreal. Even half of the man's personal fortune would be more money than Walter could even imagine, never mind the shares in the largest and most profitable fur trading company in all of New France! If Walter remembered correctly, there were even rumors to the effect that the Bouchard family was related to what remained of the royal court in France! If Nikita were to marry Michel, that meant she would become part of a very illustrious family indeed!

Michel observed the look on Walter's face and pleaded, "Please, can we keep all of this between us? I want Nikita to know these things, but not until I know she wants me, not my money or some "social standing" my relatives might have. Don't tell her mother or anyone else, either."

Walter silently nodded; he could understand why Michel would make such a request. It would be much better if everyone just thought that Michel was an ordinary farmer's son. All the fortune seekers in the area would surely be after Michel if they or their mothers learned the truth.

Chapter 11

By the time Nikita reached the barn, Seymour had tired of watching the newborn foal. He told her he'd see her later at the house for dinner and left to explore their new surroundings.

Nikita looked at the little foal with a practiced eye. Her Papa had raised horses, and she knew good stock when she saw it. This one wasn't the best she had seen, but it wasn't bad either. She wearily sat down on a bale of hay and examined the animal closely, while letting her mind wander. The events of the day finally came crashing in on her and she must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing she knew she felt a hand touch her forehead lightly and she jolted awake. Nikita looked up to see that Michel was leaning over her, smiling as he spoke softly.

"Wake up Nikita, we have to go into the house for dinner."

Michel's heart constricted at sight of the beauty curled up on top of the bale of hay before him. Her silky looking fair hair was tousled from sleep, and her partly opened eyes were a burst of blue in her slightly flushed face. There was a small, sleepy smile gracing her soft looking, pink lips and he wondered at its' cause.

If I'm very lucky' , he thought, perhaps I'll get to see her wake up from sleep like this every day for the rest of my life.' He loved her so much already but he was afraid she'd turn down the request he was about to make.

Nikita opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at the glorious sight of Michel bending over her.

Michel,' she sighed inwardly. He's so very handsome. I'm either dreaming or I'm in Heaven,' she thought dreamily.

Quickly, Nikita became aware that she was neither in Heaven, nor was she still dreaming. Quickly she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, fussing inwardly. I fell asleep on a bale of hay!! Goodness!! What must he think of me?' she thought. Are we alone here in the barn? Oh my!! This isn't proper. I'd better get up quickly and get back to the house.'

Yet part of her wanted to stay right there. Nikita felt conflicted. She blushed, and kept her eyes downcast, while trying to smooth her hair.

"Very well." Nikita said, sitting up quickly. "Sure'n I must look a sight," she sighed, blushing nervously, as her hands continued to pluck straw from her hair and try to smooth it down.

Yes ,' Michel thought, drinking in the glorious sight in front of him, 'an extremely beautiful one .'

Michel offered her his hand and assisted her to her feet. He patiently waited while she brushed the hay off her dark blue dress and then he took both of her hands in his and stood there looking down at her.

Nikita was confused. 'Why is he keeping us here in the barn? We should go into the house with everyone else.' Although she was thrilled that he was holding her hands and standing next to her, she was conflicted once more. She didn't really mind being here with Michel, but's urely he realizes that we shouldn't be alone here!!' she worried.

Michel felt the tension in her stance and misinterpreted it as fear, and his heart sank.

If she's afraid of me, I won't have a chance with her even before I've begun. This can't happen!'

He knew he had to reassure her.

"Nikita, I promise I won't hurt you, please don't be afraid. Your Uncle Walter said it would be all right for us to talk alone for a few minutes here in the barn before we go in for dinner. He and I had a talk earlier and now there is something very important I want to talk to you about." Michel paused and then softly added, "At least it's important to me."

Nikita relaxed and looked into Michel's moss green eyes, while quietly waiting to hear what he would say. He was even more handsome close up like this and she felt her pulse pounding erratically.

She couldn't imagine why something he and Uncle Walter had talked about would be shared with her.

"I know you won't hurt me Michel. What did you want to talk about?" she said shyly, lowering her eyes again.

Michel breathed a sigh of relief and lifted one of his hands to her cheek and brushed the back of his fingers against it gently.

Mon Dieu!! She's even softer than I'd imagined!' He found himself wondering what it would feel like to touch her other in places. More intimate places. He groaned inwardly. Steeling himself to be calm, he began to speak.

"I asked his permission to be your suitor. Hopefully, your only suitor. I'd like that very much, and I hope you'll be agreeable to that . Je t'aime Nikita.' I love you, Nikita. I think I did the moment I saw you. 'Je veux vous epouser.' I want to marry you. I know we've just met, and this must sound insane, but I had to tell you! I don't want to risk losing you to someone else. I couldn't bear it. I hope in time, that you'll come to love me too." Michel said and then he held his breath.

What she said next would affect his entire life.

Nikita felt Michel's touch against her cheek and gasped at the gentleness of his caress. She rubbed her cheek into his work roughened hand and raised her eyes to his, staring into them lovingly.

Was she hearing him correctly? Michel wanted to court her! To marry her! Michel said he loved her. Her?

She blinked in confusion. This must be a dream. It couldn't be real. This gorgeous man was interested in her!!' She felt her heart soar with joy. Oh yes God, thank you!'

"Oui, Michel," she whispered softly. "I'd like that very much. I believe I love you too." To be sure he understood, she repeated what she had just said in French.

"Je crois que je t'aime aussi." But are you sure? I mean, I'm just plain ol' Nikita. I'm nothing special. I don't even have a dowry. There must be many other girls around here who are beautiful and could bring you a large dowry too."

Now it was Michel who gasped.

She said she loves me too!' He couldn't believe it. Could it be true? Could I be that lucky?' Michel felt his heart melt. She is so beautiful,' he thought as she gently pressed her soft face into his hand and Michel was thrilled to see that she was looking at him adoringly with her bright blue eyes.

Michel briefly allowed himself the luxury of savoring this sweet moment, and then he grasped both of her hands gently in his.

Focus,' he admonished himself or this moment will be lost forever. I have to be coherent enough to win her over. Nothing else matters.

What was it that she'd just said? 'Other girls who were more beautiful?' Impossible!

Dowries?' She saw herself as unworthy, because of lack of a dowry? Ridiculous!

Plain?' There wasn't anything 'plain' about this woman's looks. How could she not know that she was incredibly beautiful?

The men in Ireland must be both blind and idiots,' he thought. Merci Le Bon Dieu that they were.' Michel thought, breathing a silent prayer of thanks.

Michel groaned and struggled to speak coherently.

"Tu es si beau mon petit celui. Tu ne savez pas beau tu es? Il y a personne qui est plus beau me que tu es. Personne jamais sera."

He knew she spoke French, but she was looking at him as if she didn't quite comprehend what he'd said. Michel realized he'd better repeat his comment in English just to be sure that she wouldn't fail to understand.

"You are so beautiful my little one. Don't you know how beautiful you are? There is no one who is more beautiful to me than you are. No one ever will be."

Michel couldn't restrain himself any longer. He was shuddering from the stress of reigning in the desire he felt for this beautiful woman next to him. He had to kiss her. Slowly, and still chastely holding both of her hands in his, he bent his head towards hers and did just that.

It was a sweet, gentle kiss, and Michel could tell that this was a new experience for her. Her full pink lips were soft and Michel loved the taste of them.

Mon Dieu!!' he thought . How will I ever get enough of this woman? She tastes like honey, cinnamon and cream and what is that fragrance? Lilac scented soap?'

He deepened the kiss gently, parting her lips gently and invaded her sweet mouth with his tongue and was delighted when hers thrust back invading his as well.

Michel groaned in the back of this throat as quietly as he could. The desire he was feeling for this sweet woman was astounding in its' intensity, but he didn't want to overwhelm or frighten her. He could feel her quivering slightly and he relished this wonderful feeling. Finally, they both had to come up for air.

Michel's lips parted from Nikita's and he raised his one hand up to hold her smooth cheek in his hand once more, gazing lovingly into her brilliant blue eyes. Clearly, the men from Nikita's area of Ireland had overlooked a rare treasure. How, he couldn't imagine, but Michel was eternally grateful that they had.

"But I don't have a dowry Michel." Nikita repeated sadly, gazing back at him as her breathing returned to normal.

Michel briefly closed his eyes, overwhelmed.

How had this treasure ever come to him?'

He sighed and opened his eyes again, leaning towards Nikita until his forehead rested softly against hers. Holding her tenderly in this new embrace, he quietly replied to her concern.

"A dowry isn't important to me, ma petit. I want you, not a dowry ." Michel said, his voice becoming huskier and his accent even more pronounced than usual, as he stared intently into her beautiful eyes.

"Come, Nikita. We have to go into the house now. Your family is waiting for us." He raised his head slightly then to softly kiss her again, this time on her forehead. "We'll talk again after dinner."

And with that, he reluctantly broke their embrace, taking her hand gently in his and leading her slowly towards the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Tu es si beau mon petit celui. Tu ne savez pas beau tu es? Il y a personne qui est plus beau me que tu es. Personne jamais sera." Michel softly intoned.

Michel thinks I'm beautiful?' Nikita repeated wonderingly to herself. She was speechless. Then she was vaguely aware that he repeated his words in English as well. Oh dear LordI can't believe this. this is too perfect-too unbelievablethis gorgeous, beautiful man thinks I'M beautiful? Nikita was in shock.

'I never dreamed he would feel this way towards me! No one back in Ireland had ever said things like that to her. They'd probably been too afraid of Papa. None of them would have dared to brave his disapproving scowls to approach me like this,' she realized. She doubted that Michel would have been afraid of her Papa though.

This beautiful, green-eyed Frenchman overwhelmed her senses. He stepped closer to her holding both of her hands and then she saw that his eyes were partially closed and his head was coming closer to hers. He's going to kiss me' she thought. Oh Lord, what do I do? No one's ever kissed me before!!' she thought as his lips descended on hers.

Michel's kiss was soft and sweet and altogether wonderful. When his tongue entered her mouth she thought she'd die of delight and she eagerly responded to this new sensation. His kiss was so wonderful that Nikita hoped it would never end. When it did, she was breathless and her head was spinning.

"But I don't have a dowry, Michel" she heard herself say.

Oh Lord, what a childish thing to worry about at a time like this. He's going to regret kissing me. in fact; he's going to regret everything he's said since he woke me up. Nikita you've ruined everything,' she admonished herself.

Amazingly, Michel didn't seem to feel that way. He gazed into her eyes so intently and with such love, that she was sure she'd melt right through the barn floor.

She heard him calm her fears and reassure her and the more she listened, the stronger the new love she felt for this beautiful man grew. He was absolutely wonderful and then he gently took her by the hand and led her, adoring him madly, into the house for dinner.

Chapter 12

Dinner was a simple but happy affair and a pleasant mixture of Irish and French cultures, too. Madame Desrosiers had made a delicious Irish stew of fresh lamb, potatoes and carrots with sweet garden peas tossed in. There was also fresh baguette --French bread--and newly churned butter, a wonderful salad that consisted of coarsely chopped raw garden vegetables in red wine vinaigrette. There was a fine red wine to drink, and for dessert un torte charmant de fraise et caf'e au lait --strawberry torte and coffee with milk.

The family and their guest all sat in Simone's elegant dining room for dinner as it was the first night for the new Irish relatives here in New France. Everyone with the exception of Seymour and Madame Desrosiers knew by now that Michel wanted to court Nikita and that Nikita had accepted his suit. Walter waited until after dinner to voice his conditions to his and Michel's earlier talk.

"Michel, about that talk we had earlier. I have something else to say to you about that."

Michel stopped talking with Seymour and turned to Walter with a question in his eyes.

"Yes, Walter? What is it?"

Inwardly, Michel was terrified that Walter had changed his mind about giving him permission to court Nikita. He'd been so happy all through dinner, smiling at Nikita and holding her hand under the table. The thought that his joy might all be snatched away from him made him look up at Walter in dismay.

"Don't worry, I'm not changing my mind, lad. I've talked to Belinda here and we both approve of your pursuit of Nikita. I've convinced her that you're a gentleman and that you won't tarnish our Sugar's reputation. "

Michel looked across the table at Belinda and Simone. He felt Nikita's hand squeeze his where they rested together on his knee under the table and he returned the pressure. Belinda smiled at him encouragingly. Simone winked at him.

Don't lose heart,' Simone silently seemed to say to him.

Michel relaxed and waited for whatever Walter might say next.

"We both feel that you two need to get to know each other better. Would a year of courtship be too much? I know you must have a lot to prepare. Your family will want to at least meet their future daughter-in-law, yes?"

Seymour spoke up in shock. "Courtship? Future daughter-in-law? You mean you want to marry my sister Mr. Samuelle?"

Madame Desrosiers was clearing the table and she smiled in delight. Le Bon Dieu has answered my prayer already it seems!' Smiling broadly, she scurried to finish her task.

Michel turned in his chair to face his new friend, Seymour. "Yes, Seymour, I do. Do you object to that? I know you don't know me very well. I know I don't know Nikita very well either, but I feel somehow like I've been waiting all my life for her to come to me. I know that probably doesn't make that much sense to you. To be honest, before today, it wouldn't have made sense to me, either."

Seymour looked Michel in the eye, and saw the sincerity there.

Michel continued, "I have sisters, and I'm not sure how I'd feel if someone were to say this to me this quickly about one of them. Can you give me a chance to prove to youto all of you that I'm worthy of this beautiful lady here?"

"Yes, sir, I will give you a chance. I love my sister and looking in your eyes, I believe you do too." Seymour said offering Michel his hand to shake.

Michel shook Seymour's hand and then quickly hugged him as well and said, "I do Seymour. Merci, mon ami . I will not disappoint you."

Michel turned back to look at Nikita and saw such love written all over her face for him that he was truly humbled. He gently lifted her hand from her lap and kissed it while looking deeply into her eyes. Then he looked up at Walter and over the table at Belinda and Simone and sighed.

"A year is a long time, oui . You're right though, there is a lot to do to prepare. Maman and Papa will want to meet Nikita, but I have no doubt they will adore her. The first thing I am going to do after presenting her to them is begin building a house for us." Michel turned again to Nikita with tenderness written all over his face. "My grandfather Samuelle left me some land when I was fifteen. Until today, I have never had any interest in using it. My wife will have her own home and it will be as beautiful as she is. This, I promise you."

My wife' . Nikita blushed to the roots of her hair. Nikita Samuelle.' The thought of being married to this handsome Frenchman made her head swim. A year seemed far too long to her, even though she knew it was not. Michel was right. There was a lot to prepare.

***************************************************

Belinda watched her daughter with quiet pleasure. This felt so right. She'd never seen her sweet Nikita look so happy and her first impressions of this young man had been greatly re-enforced by Walter and Simone. Walter had known Michel since he was nine years old, and Simone had grown up with him and his sister Marie. Both of them assured Belinda that there wasn't a finer young man in the entire parish.

At first, she had been hesitant because of his good looks. It was her experience that good-looking young men had a lot of experience with women and they were not to be trusted. They weren't very good providers either. Simone and Walter both assured her that Michel had never been romantically attached to anyone and had always been a hard worker.

There had never been any stories told linking him with any young woman in the area and apparently he was always polite and a perfect gentleman. Belinda found this amazing.

According to Walter, Michel was a good man who went out of his way to help those who were in need and that he was completely devoted to his family. With that in mind, both Walter and Simone thought that Michel would make an excellent husband and father.

They went on to explain that his uncle was a priest in Montreal and his twin sister was presently in a convent there, they assured Belinda that Michel always attended Mass and even did chores for the local priest.

In fact, both Walter and Simone spoke highly of the entire Samuelle family.

However, according to both Simone and Walter, there was a neighboring girl who was pursuing him. Neither Simone nor Walter had too much that was nice to say about Elena Lapierre. She sounded like an extremely demanding and forward young lady.

How distasteful for him!' Belinda thought.

Then she realized that the fact that Michel had ignored Elena's advances spoke highly of him.

Belinda briefly wondered if she should be the one to warn Nikita about this Elena and the displeasure she'd be sure to show when it became known that Michel wanted to marry her.

****************************************************

That evening found Nikita and Michel sitting together on a small settee on the front porch of Walter and Simone's house. Simone and Walter had retired for the evening an hour before, and Seymour and Belinda had left to go to bed just a few minutes earlier. They both knew they couldn't sit there together very long with no chaperone, but they were enjoying every second. Michel had his arms wrapped around Nikita and she was snuggled up to him spoon fashion, sitting sideways. His cheek was laid on top of her soft hair and they were just enjoying each other's presence.

"Michel?" Nikita said quietly.

"Oui, mon coeur?"

Oh, what this man did to her insides!' She melted just a little more against him and his arms tightened around her further.

"Michel, do you really think your family will like me?" Nikita said, looking over her shoulder at his handsome face.

"What's not to love about you? They'll adore you." Michel said. He moved his face towards hers so that their cheeks were touching and then he turned his head slightly to softly kiss her there.

Nikita shivered with delight, and tried to concentrate on what she needed to know.

"But how can you be so sure, Michel? The truth is that we barely know each other!" Nikita said.

"Having second thoughts ma petit ? I have none. Le Bon Dieu sent you to me. My sister Marie told me I'd meet you." Michel stated with certainty in his voice.

"No, no second thoughts. What do you mean about God sending me to you? And how would your sister know we'd meet?"

Michel then told her about the visit he had earlier in the day with his sister Marie and what she had said. Nikita blushed when he told her what Marie's dream had been about.

"Michel, I'm not an angel. I'm just a person, and I have faults just like everyone does. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed in me when you realize that." Nikita said sadly looking away. She leaned forward slightly, breaking their embrace.

"Nikita, turn around and look at me, please." Michel said quietly. She did immediately.

Michel gently took Nikita's hands in his and then looked directly in her eyes and stated, "I'm not delusional, and I'm not being 'religious' when I say you're my angel. I laughed at Marie and the concept of me marrying an angel right up until the minute I met you. That's when I knew her dream was true."

"You're beautiful, yes, but there are many beautiful girls around here. However, not one of them has ever appealed to me like you do. Now I know why. I meant what I said to Seymour earlier. I do feel like I've been waiting my entire life for you. I knew you were the one for me from the minute I first held your hand and looked into your eyes, mon ange," he said softly, brushing one his hands tenderly against her cheek.

"Think about it. The fact we've even met is a miracle. I mean, you were in Ireland until just a few months ago, and I was here. That's what I meant when I said God sent you to me. We're supposed to be together--a whole, you and I, just like husbands and wives should be. I'm sure you have faults, as I do. We'll discover them together, ma belle . For the rest of our lives, if you still want me."

Nikita melted again. Michel was right. She had known that he was the one for her too the minute she had seen him.' She decided to tell him so.

"Yes, Michel I understand what you mean," Nikita said reaching up and gently cupping his face with her free hand. "I feel the same way about you too. I think I knew you were the one for me the minute I saw you. And of course, I want you. Waiting a whole year to become your wife is going to be very difficult."

Michel smiled and then leaned forward and chastely kissed her.

"Nikita, I know this has all been very sudden, but will you do something for me?" Michel asked her seriously.

"What is it Michel?" she responded.

"Will you come with me early Sunday morning to meet Father Dupree and become my betrothed?" Michel asked, holding his breath as he hoped she'd say yes. "I'm not usually this impulsive, but I want to make things as official as possible between us before we're wed. I also want to make it very clear to all the other young men around here that you're mine. I don't know what I'd do if they thought they could take you from me. I love you so much."

"Oui , Michel. I love you too." Nikita sighed. "Becoming your betrothed would make me very happy. No one will take me from you, I promise, Michel."

"Bon ." Michel said, grinning as he leaned towards her and softly kissed her again. Then he reluctantly stood up. "You'd better go inside now, ma belle, before Walter comes back down here and drags you in there. I'm going to the barn now. I'll see you in the morning. I need to speak to your mother again before I leave. Bonne nuit mon amour."

Michel turned towards the barn, acutely aware that sleep would not be easy for him tonight. He'd slept in haylofts before, but he knew the real problem was going to be how his body was reacting right now.

If this is what love does to a man' he thought, then this next year was going to be more 'difficult' than Nikita, in her innocence, could ever possibly understand.'

****************************************************

Nikita watched Michel walk towards the barn, admiring his broad shoulders and strong stride. This certainly had been a memorable day. She knew she'd just met him, but Michel had already taken up a huge spot in her heart. He was so handsome; so sweet and so gentle. She absolutely knew that she loved him and was amazed that he loved her in return.

Turning with a sigh, Nikita made her way into the house where she quickly lit a single candle that Aunt Simone had left for her on the vestibule table. Nikita quietly crept up the stairs; easily finding the room her aunt had told her earlier would be hers. The full moon was shining brightly, and she silently debated putting the candle out, but decided against it. Instead she set the holder down on the night table next to her bed and watched the candle continue glowing for a minute. Then she began to undress before she put on the nightdress that her Mama had left on her bed for her. Since it was summer, and it was still very humid, she took all of her clothes off before she put on the light cotton garment. For a brief moment then, she was completely naked in front of the open window. In her innocence, she was unaware that the curtain had lifted open in the gentle evening breeze, and that her window faced the barn.

Michel was leaning against the doorway of the barn, admiring the view presented to him. The bright light of the moon allowed Michel to see his beloved very clearly, and the flickering candlelight shining in the window above intensified the view even more.

Merde,' he thought. He could feel his already aching erection spring even further to life. He had never wanted a woman so much before in his entire life.

Is she trying to tempt me-or kill me?' No,' he decided , she's too much of an innocent to even be aware of what she's doing right now. She is gorgeous. I can't wait until she is really mine.. .the waiting might kill me, but for a prize like her, I'll learn to be patient.'

The light in the upstairs window went out then and Michel turned into the barn. Taking the quilt that Simone had left on the side of the first horse stall, Michel climbed up into the loft to find a spot in the hayloft to try to rest on for the night.