The Fur Trader’s Lady (Ladies of the Wilderness #1)

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A n owl hooted in the distance, bringing Charlotte to her senses. She opened her eyes and blinked several times, staring at the stained white canvas hanging over her head. Her mouth felt like she’d been chewing wool, but her throat no longer hurt, and her head had stopped its incessant pounding.

Darkness shrouded the tent, and a chill pervaded the air. But she was neither too hot nor too cold. Had the worst passed?

She brought her left hand up to rub her eyes, which were heavy and gritty, but her elbow pinched where it was bandaged. Bits and pieces of the past few days came back to her, and she lowered her arm to her side.

Reid.

She turned her head and saw him lying on his back. Though it was dark, she could see him clearly. One arm was flung over his eyes, while his bare chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

In all her born days, she’d never looked upon a man without his shirt on. The sight did something strange within her stomach and created a quickening inside her chest. He was naught but muscles from waist to neck. Her gaze lingered on every rise and valley, marveling at the sheer beauty of the man before her.

If she’d had her canvas and charcoal, she’d draw a picture to capture the image forever. Instead, she’d have to commit his form to memory and draw it later, when she had the proper supplies.

But what would Stephen think if he found her drawing the image of a half-naked man she had slept beside in a tent—alone?

Her cheeks warmed and not from sickness this time.

Forcing herself to turn away from him, she lay there for several more minutes with no desire to sleep any longer. What time was it? How long had she been sick?

Her body was clammy with old sweat, and when she ran her hand through her curls, she found they were stiff from perspiring.

Oh, if only she could bathe.

But first, she needed to find the necessary.

Not wanting to wake Reid, she moved aside the blanket and sat up.

Her head spun for a few seconds as the cold air assailed her, and she began to shiver again. Her shoes were near the entry where she’d left them the last time Reid had helped her to the necessary in her delirium. She hadn’t been cognizant enough to feel embarrassed at the time, but the thought of him assisting her with such a personal need was both humbling and distressing. Thankfully, he’d only aided her in finding a spot, and then he’d left her alone while she took care of her needs.

Still, her cheeks burned to think of it, and she realized that he was right in warning her that this journey would strip her of all decorum.

Slipping on her shoes, she untied the flaps and stepped out of the tent.

A multitude of stars arched across the wide expanse of sky with a full moon dimming them only slightly. The pine trees reached toward the heavens, black silhouettes against the magnificent backdrop of sparkling lights. The moon was so bright it sent shadows stretching across the quiet camp.

The voyageurs’ campfires had dwindled with a small spiral of smoke drifting up from one closer to the water, but all else was silent.

Was Roger still across the river? She prayed he had moved on like Reid had hoped—yet a shiver of doubt overtook her. Was he watching her even now? Would he grab her if she wandered too far from camp?

Not wanting to find out, she took care of business as quickly as possible and then went to the water’s edge to wash her hands and face.

The river was as cold as ice, but it was refreshing. Since her hair was so short, she cupped the water and poured it over her head, washing behind her neck and ears, trying to scrub away any trace of illness. She marveled at how easy it was to wash her shorter hair—maybe the only benefit from cutting it.

“Charlie?” Reid called quietly from near their tent, concern tightening his voice.

She ran her hands through her curls quickly, rubbing off the excess water, and then stood and made her way back to the tent. The moon was bright enough for her to see him move away from their tent and toward the woods behind.

“Charlie?” he called again, his voice desperate.

“Here,” she said just as quietly, but urgently.

He turned and started moving toward her. He had not taken the time to put on his shirt, and the moon illuminated his bare torso, sending shadows over the dips and curves.

Her heart hammered at the sight.

Standing before her, in full motion, his muscles were even more glorious than when he was lying still. She had never imagined a man looked like that under his shirt. Did all men look this way? Or was it only Reid?

“Where have you been?” Fear and anger deepened his tone. “You should not leave the tent unattended, especially when you’re sick.”

“I had to—” He’d seen her at her worst, even helped her, so why could she not tell him what had pulled her from their tent? “I am feeling much better.”

“You’re wet.” He reached out and touched her hair, sending a spiral of heat coursing through her stomach.

Memories of her illness returned. Him—always near, his touch soft and gentle, his words tender and encouraging. She’d been in and out of consciousness, but whenever she’d been awake, he’d been by her side, helping her drink the bitter tea, adding extra blankets when she had the chills, and bleeding her several times. She hadn’t been so well cared for since she was a child.

“You’ll get sick again standing out here in the cold.” He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to their tent.

His touch was not only filled with concern, but it was also possessive—protective—and she liked it. Liked the way his hand felt against her back. Gooseflesh raced up her arms, but it wasn’t from the cold. It felt good to have someone other than herself care about her welfare. It made her want to nestle beside him, sheltered under his muscular arm.

She chastised herself for such foolish thoughts. He was her protector—but only until they reached Grand Portage, and then she would never see Reid McCoy again.

Was it wrong to enjoy his attention while it lasted?

“How long have I been sick?” she asked.

“We’ve been in camp four days.”

“Did Roger leave?”

“The XY men pulled out the first day you were sick.”

She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder.

“Dinna fash. Rutherford is several days ahead of us.”

“What if he stayed behind somewhere?”

Reid shook his head. “It would be unwise. His guide would not allow it.”

“He’s been foolish before.”

Reid’s hand was still resting on the small of her back, but he slipped it around her waist and drew her toward the tent. “We’ll trust God to protect you and guide your steps.”

Heat radiated up her side, and she could no longer focus on anything but his hand and how wonderful it felt when he touched her.

Guilt assailed her, and she forced herself to think about Stephen. He was her intended. He’d proposed, and she had come all this way to accept. He would be waiting for her at Grand Portage.

The sooner she could get to him the better.

Now that Charlotte was well enough to travel again, the brigade made up for lost time. Wind pushed against Reid as the canoes sliced through the Utawas, heading downriver. After four days of lying idle in camp, the voyageurs were anxious to paddle once again—and paddle they did, at a remarkable speed.

Pierre selected songs that matched the mood of the men. Impatient and determined. “ Bon Jour, Jolie Bergere ,” “ Brave Capitaine ,” “ Vin Blanc ,” and others.

Charlotte sat next to Reid in the canoe, dozing on and off, pale and weak. She’d insisted they leave camp, but he was still concerned that she’d relapse. Whenever they stopped to portage, he was adamant about carrying her things and even offered to carry her, when the others weren’t near—but she refused, and rightly so. No matter how much he wanted to protect her, he couldn’t coddle her or bring more attention to her than necessary.

Already the men were suspicious of the new clerk—and Calum couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Reid caught him watching her even now, and Calum simply grinned, tossing his voice into the voyageur song with abandon. Reid scowled at the younger man, a warning in his glare.

Up ahead, a series of rapids would require them to make three long portages, which would take them the rest of the day to accomplish. But at the end, they would be rewarded with the most majestic waterfall on their journey. It wasn’t on the Utawas but a short distance to the left on an offshoot that flowed south. Called the Rideau River, it meant curtain in French.

Reid always enjoyed watching the reaction of a first-season officer when they encountered the falls—but he was even more eager to see what Charlotte thought.

For the remainder of the day, Reid oversaw the transportation of the goods in his care, thankful his men were well rested for the rigors of their duties.

When they had finished their daunting task, Reid and Charlotte took their time crossing the rugged terrain, stopping several times to rest.

Finally, they arrived at their campsite and found the men had already set up their tent.

A small Algonquin Indian village sat nestled across the narrow river, and the arrival of a brigade had brought out several men, women, and children to trade. They mingled with Reid’s men, some sitting at the voyageurs’ campfires, others standing near the banks of the river, showcasing their wares.

Charlotte stopped beside Reid. “Indians.”

“Algonquin. They are closely related to the Chippewa, farther into the interior.”

“Are they peaceful?”

“Aye.”

Even though Reid rationed his men’s alcohol, some of them pooled their rations together to trade with the Indians along the way. Sometimes, it led to fights and other trouble he’d rather not deal with so soon after Charlotte’s illness. But he wouldn’t worry her.

She yawned and placed her hand up to cover her mouth, her cheeks turning pink. “Excuse me.”

“You’ll be wanting to sleep, then,” he said.

“I’ve been eager to find my cot all day.”

Disappointment cut through him. “Do you think you could travel a short distance? I’ve something to show you.”

“A short distance?” She frowned as they found their tent and he placed their things inside.

“’Tis not far. Just on the other side of those rocks.” He pointed to the offshoot, less than a hundred yards away.

Curiosity lit her eyes, and she nodded. “I suppose I could.”

He felt like a child again, wanting to grab her hand and run off to show her his surprise. Instead, they walked leisurely to the Rideau. As they drew closer, the sound of the falls filled the air with a distinct rumble.

“A waterfall?” Charlotte’s eyebrows lifted in question, but he just smiled, certain she’d never seen another like it before.

Tiny blades of green grass sprouted up on the forest floor, and little blue flowers spread out like a carpet. Birds sang to one another, and squirrels jumped from branch to branch. Despite the late-season snowfall they’d had in Montreal, spring had finally arrived, and it was his favorite time of the year.

Before they reached the offshoot, he directed her down a path which would require them to do a bit of rock climbing. The men had remained at camp, and it was just the two of them, so he went ahead of her and reached out to wrap his hands around her waist to help her over a ledge.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to assist her.

Her small waist felt supple beneath his hands, awakening a desire within him that came on so suddenly he paused after he lowered her to her feet. He allowed his hands to linger a bit longer than necessary, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she looked up at him, uncertainty in the depths of her beautiful brown eyes.

Reid forced himself to step away from her—but took her hand into his. It was small and soft in his large one.

They descended the rocky ledges carefully, the sound of the waterfall drowning out all other noises in the awakening wilderness. Small buds gave way to tiny leaves just starting to turn the woods green and fragrant.

When they finally reached the falls, Reid stopped Charlotte.

He stood close to her, so she could hear. “Close your eyes.”

She didn’t question him but lowered her eyelids until her lashes rested on her smooth cheeks and allowed him to lead her the last few feet to the waterfall.

“May I open them?”

He turned her to face the falls, a spray of water misting over them. “Now.”

She blinked several times, and then her mouth slipped open in wonder.

The majestic falls dropped over a straight ledge forty feet above the river, causing the water to fall in one sheet like a shimmering curtain. Sunshine sparkled off the top of the falls, making it appear as though the light dripped over the edge. Craggy rocks framed the falls on both sides, with trees growing out from the cracks.

Charlotte stared at the waterfall. “I’ve never seen something so . . . magnificent.”

Reid had fully intended to admire the waterfall, since he only saw it every three years when he passed by, but he could not take his eyes off Charlotte. He thought of all the other things he treasured and wondered how much more he’d enjoy them if he could show them to her.

She walked to the water’s edge and stooped down to dip her hand in the clear river.

Reid joined her and found her staring at her reflection.

There was little emotion on her face as she reached up and touched one of the curls that had slipped out of her queue. “I look like a stranger. So gaunt and homely.”

He crouched beside her, looking at their reflections. His skin was darkened by the sun and exposure to the outdoors, while hers was light and delicate. His hair was almost black, while hers was almost copper in the sunshine. Their eyes were similar in color, but hers were wide and trusting, while his were hooded by years of hard living. Even crouched like they were, he towered over her slight frame, a reminder that she was at his mercy and under his care.

“You’re one of the bonniest lasses I’ve ever seen.” And he meant it—more than he intended. Throughout her illness, he’d felt strangely protective. In the past, he’d cared for sick voyageurs, but he’d never worried like he had the four days Charlotte was ill. When it was evident that she would recover, his relief had made him weak. He admired her more than any other woman before her, and it only added to her beauty.

“You must not come across many women, then.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Their gazes caught in the water’s reflection, and her face became serious. “But I thank you.”

“Come.” He took her hand and led her back to the path, not wanting to dwell long on his attraction to her. “You need to eat and get some rest.”

He didn’t let her hand go until just before they reached the path—and even then, it was harder than he expected when he did.