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

19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

R ain spattered against the roof of the row house. Charlotte sat in the living quarters alone, eating the rubbaboo she had prepared over the fire. Heat from the hearth warmed her, but the chill of not knowing when Reid would return sent a shiver up her spine. Jacques had told her that Reid had gone to the XY post, but that was his only information.

There was still a hint of daylight in the sky, though the clouds made the day darker than usual. Charlotte couldn’t stomach the stew, so she pushed it away. She needed to do something to keep occupied as she waited.

She walked across the room, her shoulders tense, wondering what had taken Reid away. What if he’d been hurt—or worse? If she could look through the oiled paper windows, she’d glance outside to see if Reid approached, but that was useless. She’d have to open the door to check, and that would let the heat out and the cold, wet air in—a prospect she didn’t welcome.

Her paper and charcoaled pencils beckoned her, but it was hard to be creative when she was worried. Maybe there was work to be done in the storage room. She took a candle and went down the hall to the room at the end.

It was cold and dark, and the candle gave only a scant light. A pile of fur needed to be counted, and she had planned to rearrange some of the trade items, but the thought of starting a project so late in the day didn’t appeal to her either.

She was too restless to concentrate.

Sighing, she started to leave the room when her eye caught on an exquisite gown hung on a peg in the corner. It was a trade item like the dress Reid had given to Daanis the first time he’d visited Curly Head’s village. She walked across the room and lifted the candle to look at it closer. She’d admired it many times over the past couple of weeks but had forced herself not to dwell on the rich blue fabric or the delicate stitches.

Tonight, she didn’t have the same self-control. Running her hands along the soft muslin fabric. How she longed to wear a gown like this one again—to feel like a woman, even if just for a few minutes. The binding she had worn almost constantly these many months suddenly pinched and dug into her skin.

Nibbling her bottom lip, she touched the silk ribbon just under the bust of the empire-style waist. What would it feel like to try on the gown?

Reid would probably not return for some time. If Charlotte brought the gown to her room and tried it on there, she might enjoy a few stolen moments to bask in the female delights once again.

Without giving it a second thought, she slipped the dress off the hook, left the storage room and went down the hall into her bedchamber. She didn’t have the proper undergarments to wear with the gown, but she could do without a corset and petticoats this once.

Closing her door, she listened for Reid a moment, then set the candle on the small side table next to her bed.

Excitement made her tremble as she began to undress. She couldn’t deny the freedom of trousers—but she missed being feminine.

After her pants, suit coat, and shirt were removed, she stood in her long underpants and tight linen binding. She’d only removed it momentarily a few times in the past few months. Now, she untucked the edge and unwound the material, letting out a long sigh as the last of it slipped loose and the cool air sent gooseflesh racing across her bare skin.

Not wasting a moment, she lifted the gown and slipped it on over her head. She wiggled the dress down the length of her body and smiled when it fell into place. The dress fit like it was made for her, the material soft and luxurious against her skin.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she did a little twirl. The skirt of the gown was not wide, but straight, coming down from the high waist tucked up under her breasts. She worked on the buttons and was able to get them fastened, and then she tied the bow in the back.

Oh, how she longed for a mirror!

She let out her queue, and her hair touched her shoulders. She ran her hands through the curls to soften them. If only she had a ribbon to tie around the crown of her head—but that was an impractical thought, much like wearing this gown.

Impractical or not, she had not felt this beautiful or feminine in many months. Pinching her cheeks for extra effect, she laughed at being so frivolous.

If only she had a ball to attend or a friend to visit. She walked across her room and took a seat. She ran her hands over the exquisite blue material and shook her head in awe. How had she ever taken such a simple thing as a gown for granted?

“Charlotte?” Reid’s voice filled the living quarters unexpectedly.

She jumped from the chair, her heart pounding wildly. What would he think if he saw her playing dress-up?

She tugged at the buttons at the back of her neck and tried to get them undone, sweat gathering under the material as she turned in circles.

“Charlotte?” Reid’s voice was closer—in the hallway—concern tightening the sound. “Are you in your room?”

“Reid!” Charlotte’s voice was higher than usual. “I-I’m here.”

“Are you well?”

“I’m fine.” She tugged at a button and sidestepped, bumping into the chair. It fell with a crash.

Reid stood outside Charlotte’s door, his pulse picking up speed when he heard the crash within her room. Was she being attacked? Memories flashed of Calum’s body pressed against her, and his anger flared. He turned the doorknob and slammed the door open.

But his feet faltered, and he stumbled to a stop.

Charlotte remained perfectly still, standing in a beautiful blue gown, her arm reaching behind her neck.

She swallowed as she dropped her arm to her side and then remained still.

His pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now. The dress transformed her in every possible way, accentuating her small waist and her feminine curves. Not since the morning she’d stood in his home in Montreal had he seen her in such fine form—and not even then, since everything had been hidden beneath Mrs. Mallarme’s modest nightgown.

But now? Every inch of her well-formed body was presented to him in the most becoming way he could imagine.

His eyes traveled from her face down to her hem and back up again. For the first time, he noticed her hair was no longer pulled back, but hanging loose. It softened her face and made her brown eyes luminous.

“Charlotte.” His mouth was dry, and the word got stuck in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes were filled with remorse as she finally moved forward. “I only meant to try it on—I was going to return it before you came back—but I couldn’t get the buttons undone.”

“You dinna need to be sorry.” His voice was gravelly as he forced his feet to move forward. The candlelight flickered, sending shadows dancing along the walls and over the planes of her beautiful face. “You are stunning.”

He couldn’t stop himself from drawing closer to her—and she didn’t move away. It was dangerous, this attraction he had to her. It overwhelmed his every thought, coursed through every muscle and sinew in his body, and made him forget everything and everyone else. It was easier to ignore when she was dressed like a man—but now, seeing her this way, it reminded him that she was very much a woman, and he was very much a man.

She breathed deeply and her chest rose and fell, pressing against the fabric of her bodice. It was evident that she did not have on a corset. Her binding did a good job hiding her figure, but her binding was no longer in place.

“Charlotte.” He said her name again. “I—”

He didn’t finish his words, capturing her mouth against his.

She came to him willingly and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. The pressure of her body against his made him lose all reason, and he deepened the kiss, allowing his hands to slip up her back and into her hair. The curls were soft under his touch.

Charlotte responded to his kiss as she put her hands on his face and let her fingers splay over his ears, the tips dipping into his hairline.

Pleasure coiled tight in his belly and spread out through his limbs. He lowered his hands and encircled her waist, drawing her upwards, pressing her tighter to him. He found himself moving toward the bed—and it was at that moment that his reason returned, and he pulled back, stepping several feet away from her.

Her eyelids were heavy, and she blinked several times before her gaze focused. Lifting her hands, she placed them on her bright red cheeks, her eyes growing wide.

“I’m sorry.” Shame covered her face. “I should have never put on this dress.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she wiped at them in frustration.

“Och, lass.” Reid ran his hands through his hair. He knew how he felt about her—knew that he could not have her—but had almost done the unthinkable because he was weak and foolish. “’Tis not your fault. You’re a woman and you belong in a dress.” He turned the chair upright and took a seat, putting his face in his hands. “I had no right to kiss you simply because you look so bonnie.”

“But if I hadn’t put on this dress—”

“’Tis not just because you’re bonnie, Charlotte. You ken that well.” He looked up at her, wanting to tell her he loved her because she was brave and kind and good—but he could never say what was on his heart. “I canna deny that I’m attracted to you—but ’tis not only because of the way you look.”

She wiped the tears away and took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Reid.” She lifted the hem and let it fall to the ground in a silent cascade of fabric. “I just wanted to feel feminine again.”

“You felt very feminine to me.” Heat washed over his skin at the thought of her female curves pressed against him.

“I think it would be best for me to change back into my other clothes,” she whispered.

He couldn’t agree more—though he longed to see her remain in that dress for good.

“Aye.” He pushed his hands against the armrests and forced himself to stand and move to the door. He turned around one last time and took a full look at her again.

Without another word, he stepped out of the room and closed the door soundly.