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

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

C harlotte paced in front of the fireplace as she waited for Reid to return. Since there had been no visitors, she had closed the trading room and stoked the fire several times in the living quarters, but there was little else to do. She wasn’t hungry, but she began to prepare a simple meal of rubbaboo. She boiled water, added the pemmican, allowed it to break down, and then added some root vegetables and flour to thicken it into a stew. The smell wafting from the pot should have made her stomach growl but turned it, instead.

With a sigh, she moved the stew out of the flames and set a cover over the pot before she began to pace again.

Finally, the door opened, and Reid stepped into the row house.

Charlotte stopped pacing and stared at him as he closed the door. She moved forward, but her breath stilled at the sight of him. Dried blood covered his lips, his chin, and the front of his coat. A bruise darkened the side of his face, and a cut on his eyebrow swelled. Snowflakes covered his back, shoulders, and bare head.

She went to the medicine chest, but he stopped her with his low, dark voice. “Dinna.” He limped to the chest, holding his ribs with his right hand. “I’ll see to my own wounds.”

“Let me help.” She opened the chest.

He slammed the lid closed and she jumped back.

“I said no.” He lifted the chest in his left hand and cringed as he walked to the door leading to the hallway.

He opened the door and walked through, slamming it shut with his foot.

Silence filled the living quarters, and Charlotte was left alone once again.

Despite his anger, he would need help, even if he didn’t want it. But would he turn her out if she offered? She hated that she had lied to him—and hated even more that he was angry and hurt because of her.

She walked into the hall, not giving him a choice. Opening his door, she found him with his shirt off trying to wrap binding around his ribs. It slipped off and he growled.

“Leave me,” he said.

“You need help.”

“I’d rather not have your help right now.”

Charlotte walked across the short space to where he stood by his bed. “I know you’re angry with me, but don’t let your stubbornness cause you more pain.” She took the binding from his hands and started to wind it around his chest. “Besides, I know a thing or two about doing this.”

He let out his breath and gritted his teeth, but he allowed her to help him.

She walked around him, pulling the fabric tight, glancing up at his face at each pass. He held his arms high to allow her to move freely.

Even with bruises, his chest was just as magnificent as it had been those weeks they’d slept in the same tent.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

He kept his face free from emotion or reaction and did not respond.

When she finished with the binding, she went to his trunk and found a clean shirt. She helped him pull it over his head. “Did you hurt him?”

“Not as much as I had hoped.”

Slowly, she buttoned the top half of the shirt, her knuckles brushing against his chest. He tensed each time she grazed his body—but not from pain, she was certain.

“Sit and I’ll tend to your wounds.” She finished the last button and nodded at the chair.

He sat and she went to the living quarters to get some fresh water and rags.

When she returned to Reid, he watched her cross the room, his brow furrowed. “Though I’ve been guilty of it myself, I canna abide lying, Charlotte.”

She closed her eyes at the sting in his words, then dipped the rag into the water to clean the blood from his face. “Daanis knows I’m a woman. If I had told you who shot me, she would have told everyone my secret.”

He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “If I accuse Lachlan, Daanis will reveal the truth about you?”

She nodded.

“You did it to protect me?”

Again, she nodded.

He didn’t speak or move for several moments. “I canna beat him.” He took the rag and wiped his lips and chin.

When he was done, he handed her the rag and she rinsed it, then cleaned a spot on his chin that he missed. She took out the witch hazel and drenched a piece of lint to dab at his cuts.

She stood between his knees and placed her left hand on his shoulder as she used her right one to work on his face.

He exhaled another deep breath and set one hand on her hip.

She briefly closed her eyes at his touch, feeling the weight of his hand all the way to her heart.

“I ken you’re sorry—and I apologize for reacting the way I did.” His thumb rubbed the front of her belly. “My anger was mostly for Lachlan, but I never suspected that you would lie for him.”

“I didn’t want to lie for him, but I didn’t have much choice.”

He nodded and put his other hand on her right hip, pulling her slightly toward him.

She dropped her hand away from his face and set it on his shoulder. She should have known that being this close to Reid would lead to more intimacy. How could it not? They were drawn to one another like a wave to the shore.

Reid set his forehead against her stomach and wrapped his arms around her. “Charlotte, I find myself leaning on you in every way. What did I do before you were a part of my life? Who did I turn to in times of trouble?”

“I’ve caused you even more trouble since the day we met.”

He shook his head. “You have been a balm for my weary soul. What will I do without you?”

“We can’t think about the future,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Or the past.”

“That’s all I can think about. My future looks as bleak and barren as the winter without you by my side.”

He tugged her until she sat on his knee and then he put his hands on either side of her face and looked deeply into her eyes. “Marry me, lass. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

Pain and yearning warred within her chest, stealing her breath. “It would never work.” She knew, because she’d lain awake for hours over the past few months trying to find a way.

“I love you.” He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. This kiss was not breathless and passionate, like the others, but slow and sweet. It wasn’t longing that fueled his lips—but love, pure and honest.

Charlotte was the one to pull back, though she did not pull away from his hands.

“Say you love me, Charlotte, even if you canna marry me.” His hand was still on her cheek. “I see it in your eyes, but my heart aches to hear the words.”

Tears gathered in her eyes as the truth warmed her entire being. She did not need to be prodded to tell him. “I love you, Reid. I’ve loved you since the night we danced under the stars.”

His face softened, and he kissed her again. “Then marry me.”

“You know it would never work. You’re married to the fur trade.”

“I would give it all up for you.”

She could see in his eyes that he meant it.

“I could never ask you to do that.” He loved the fur trade—had devoted fifteen years of his life to it.

“You wouldna need to ask me. I’d do it because I love you and I never want to leave your side. There is nothing on this earth more important than you.”

“You would give up your dream and return to England with me?”

“I would go to the ends of the earth with you.”

“What about Lachlan?”

Sudden, unchecked rage passed over his face, and he stiffened.

“You can’t leave—not when you’re so close to your goal.” Charlotte knew it well. “And I need a husband now. I need to return to England as soon as possible and reclaim my inheritance.” She dropped her gaze and tried not to cry. “More importantly, I’ve made a promise to Stephen. I couldn’t break that promise in good conscience—and neither could you.”

“I hate Stephen,” Reid said quietly.

“You do not,” she chided him.

“I hate that he found you before I did.”

“You would have never found me if I hadn’t come looking for him.”

He didn’t respond.

“Stephen is a good man.” She tried to convince herself. “He will make a good husband.”

“Will he kiss you the way I do?” He captured her mouth again, this time with a fervency that both thrilled and frightened her—not because Reid scared her, but because she might never experience such passion again.

“No one will ever kiss me the way you do,” she said as she pulled away, breathless.

“And no one will ever love you like I do.” He removed the strap of fabric holding her hair back and ran his fingers through the curls.

Charlotte briefly closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, knowing that their time together could not last, but wanting to hold him close for as long as possible.

“When Stephen comes for you, I will try to convince him not to marry you,” he promised. “I will not hide my feelings from him. He will know I want you.”

She offered him a sad smile.

“But he willna listen,” Reid said. “Not when you are the prize, lass.”

Charlotte rose and placed her palm against his cheek. “Try to rest.”

He turned his head and kissed her palm.

“McCoy!” Loud pounding came from the front door. “Open up!”

Reid frowned as they both stood.

“Who is that?” she asked.

The front door slammed open, the shouts of several men filling the air.

Moving with surprising speed, given his tender state, Reid left his room. Charlotte followed, tying her hair back again.

Lachlan stood in the living quarters, a dozen of his men standing outside. The sun hung low in the sky, offering enough daylight to allow Charlotte to see the cuts and bruises on his face.

“Why have you come?” Reid demanded.

The men moved to the side, revealing a limp body in the center of the stockade yard.

“I am here for justice,” Lachlan said.

“Justice?” Reid’s lips curled in anger.

“I’m here to see that you hang for the death of Nicolas LeBlanc.” Lachlan’s eyes were narrowed, and his breath came fast.

“The death of who?” Reid’s confusion was swift.

“Nicolas LeBlanc, the man you killed at my post this afternoon.” Lachlan lifted his chin. “I have a dozen witnesses who saw you plunge your knife into his chest.”

“I did no such thing.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Jean-Paul pushed his way through the crowd, which now included some of Reid’s men. His alarmed gaze passed over the dead body.

“I’m here to charge Reid McCoy with the death of Nicolas LeBlanc.” Lachlan’s steely gaze never wavered from Reid’s.

Jean-Paul frowned and looked at Reid, a question in his eyes.

“I dinna ken what he’s talking about.” Concern deepened Reid’s brow.

Daanis pushed her way through the crowd and joined Lachlan, fear and uncertainty in her eyes as she looked at him.

“Reid would never do such a thing,” Jean-Paul said.

“Look at him.” Lachlan pointed at Reid. “He’s clearly been in a brawl.”

“With you,” Reid snarled.

Jacques was the next to push his way into the living quarters. He stood beside Reid and glared at Lachlan.

“Leave this post immediately,” Jean-Paul said to Lachlan with authority. “Reid is innocent.”

“You believe him innocent?” Lachlan asked.

“As innocent as myself.” Jean-Paul lifted his chin. “I’ve never known Reid to lie. He’s the most honest man I know.”

“If he’s so honest”—Lachlan’s gaze turned to Charlotte—“then why has he kept his mistress a secret from everyone for these many months?”

Charlotte’s mouth slipped open, and her heart rate escalated while Reid took a protective step toward her.

“His what?” Jean-Paul turned to see who Lachlan was looking at—and his gaze collided with Charlotte’s.

“Mr. Crawford is not who you think he—she is.” Lachlan walked across the room and rounded Charlotte. “She is his lover.”

“I am not.” Charlotte’s indignation rose, but even as she denied Lachlan’s claim, guilt and shame burned her cheeks as she remembered the stolen moments she and Reid had shared.

Jean-Paul moved closer to Charlotte, looking at her with new eyes. “You’re a woman?”

Charlotte met Reid’s troubled gaze. There was no way to keep the truth hidden any longer. Despite her best efforts, everyone would know that they had been lying.

She couldn’t look at Reid any longer. “Yes.”

Jean-Paul’s face grew pale. A hush fell over the crowd as every eye turned to Charlotte.

“You knew this?” Jean-Paul asked Reid.

Reid’s jaw clenched, causing his cheek muscles to jump. “Aye—but ’tis not what you think. She is not my mistress. She came to find her fiancé.”

“Apprehend them both!” Lachlan cried. “And turn them over to your superiors.”

Lachlan’s men yelled out their agreement, while Charlotte’s legs grew weak and Daanis grabbed Lachlan’s arm, shaking her head frantically.

Within seconds, Charlotte was in the custody of several dozen angry voyageurs who now knew she was a woman.

The days and nights were arduous and freezing as they traveled by canoe from Crow Wing to Fond du Lac, at the far western tip of Lake Superior. The journey that had taken them seven weeks in the middle of summer only took a week when traveling without cargo or dozens of men. There were no packages to haul over portages, no need to stop for illnesses or injuries, and no mosquitoes to contend with.

Charlotte was kept away from Reid and forced to sleep in a tent with Daanis, who had been ordered, along with Lachlan, to be a witness at Reid’s hearing. They were also separated into two canoes. In Reid’s canoe, Lachlan and Jean-Paul kept him under guard with four voyageurs to paddle. In Charlotte’s canoe, she was guarded by Jacques and Daanis, along with three other voyageurs who paddled the twelve-hour days.

Though it was cold and had already snowed, the lakes and rivers were still open and navigable, though there were fringes of ice along the edges of most of them.

They had left at first light the morning after Reid had been accused of murder. Charlotte and Reid had been allowed to bring along their own possessions, but all she had were her drawings and three pairs of clothes. When Jean-Paul had asked her if she’d like to change into a dress, she chose to travel in her suit, which was warmer and more conducive to canoeing.

At night when they stopped to camp, Daanis prepared their meals, and the thirteen of them sat in utter silence. Reid’s and Lachlan’s bruises had turned from a deep purple to a greenish, yellow color. Though he was healing, Reid’s ribs still bothered him, and he often winced when he got in and out of his canoe, or when he had to sit or rise from the ground. Charlotte wanted to ease his pain, but she was completely helpless. The best she could offer was a smile now and again, but even that was not enough to lighten his dark mood.

On the afternoon of their seventh day, the fort at Fond du Lac appeared on the edge of the St. Louis River Bay, which emptied out of Lake Superior. Charlotte had seen it before, when they had left Grand Portage and entered the deep interior. But shrouded in snow, with stormy gray clouds hanging low overhead, it looked inhospitable—especially because she and Reid would have to face harsh charges once they stepped inside those stockade walls.

Charlotte shivered in her wool coat as the canoe glided to a stop at the pier positioned at the base of the fort. It was four times as large as their post at Crow Wing and housed the region’s manager, Mr. Joseph McDonnell. It was one of the largest inland depots, besides Grand Portage, and was at the head of the Folle Avoine District.

Jacques jumped out and offered his hand to Charlotte and then to Daanis. Just behind them, Jean-Paul held the other canoe to allow Reid and Lachlan to disembark. Since Reid had not resisted his arrest, they did not wield any weapons to keep him or Charlotte in line, so they both walked up to the fort’s gates of their own free will.

Reid drew up beside her. “Dinna fash, lass.” His face was without emotion as they continued up the banks of the river. “I willna go down without a fight.”

That was what worried her. She knew Reid was innocent—but he had no witnesses to speak on his behalf, and the only people who could speak for his character would also have to admit that he had hidden a woman among his men all these months. He would have to fight for his life if he hoped to go free.

If he was found guilty, he could face imprisonment in Montreal—or the gallows at Fort Fond du Lac. It would be at the discretion of Mr. McDonnell.

Over a hundred people called Fond du Lac home, and an island just off the shores of Lake Superior, within sight of the fort, was home to a large village of Chippewa Indians. The two groups intermingled, which meant several dozen women and children were also at the fort that day.

Their arrival did not stir up much interest, though Mr. McDonnell was summoned by a voyageur. When he exited his two-story home, a smile of greeting lit his face, which told Charlotte that he had no idea why they had come. But how could he?

“Mr. McDonnell?” Lachlan broke apart from the group and approached the fort commander.

“Aye?” Mr. McDonnell extended his hand. “And you are?”

“Lachlan McCoy of the XY Company post at Crow Wing.” He did not take Mr. McDonnell’s hand. “I am here with Reid McCoy as my prisoner.”

Mr. McDonnell’s smile disappeared, and he looked sharply at Reid. “What is this about?”

Reid took a step forward, but Jean-Paul put his hand on Reid’s arm.

“Can we speak somewhere privately?” Lachlan asked Mr. McDonnell.

“Of course.” Mr. McDonnell motioned for the group to enter his home.

The voyageurs in their company stayed outside, except for Jean-Paul, so it was just Reid, Lachlan, Daanis, Charlotte, and the guide who entered McDonnell’s home.

The front room was wide and long and contained several pieces of furniture. Plank floors ran from one end to the other, and large rag rugs were situated around the room, giving it a surprisingly comfortable feel—though Charlotte felt anything but comfort at the moment. An enormous fireplace dominated the end of the room with a fire crackling within.

“What is going on, Reid?” Mr. McDonnell’s gaze slipped over the group assembled and landed on Charlotte. A question flashed within his eyes before he looked back at Reid.

“This man forced his way into my post seven days past,” Lachlan said to Mr. McDonnell, “with the sole intention to attack me.”

“Is that true, Reid?” Mr. McDonnell asked.

Reid stood with his feet spread apart, his eyes hard. “Aye.”

“Why?”

“We have had better success with the trade,” Lachlan said, “and he was angry.”

“That is not why I attacked you.” Reid almost spat out the words. “I was there to confront you about shooting my clerk.”

“’Tis a lie,” Lachlan said. “He is jealous and wanted a reason to attack me.”

Mr. McDonnell took a seat and told the others to sit as well. “Why have you arrested him?” he asked Lachlan.

“While he was at my post, his anger was directed at several of my men.” Lachlan stopped and swallowed, as if it was hard to speak. “He stabbed one of my voyageurs, Nicolas LeBlanc, who later died from his wounds.”

“It isna true,” Reid said, his jaw tight. “I did not touch anyone but Lachlan—and I dinna have my knife that day. I dinna ken where he got my knife.”

Daanis dropped her gaze, and Charlotte suddenly knew where the knife had come from. Daanis had come into Reid’s post that long ago morning before Charlotte had been shot. She’d probably taken it then as part of Lachlan’s plans to frame Reid.

“I am here with three of my men who all witnessed the event,” Lachlan said.

Mr. McDonnell’s eyes were sharp and squinted. “You expect me to believe that one of my most trusted men killed an XY voyageur—based solely on your word? I’ve known Reid for over a decade and have never seen him hurt anyone. There isna anyone I trust more than him.”

Lachlan shook his head, as if all of them were daft. “Then how do you explain the woman he’s kept as his mistress this year?”

Every eye in the room turned to Charlotte—except Reid’s and Daanis’s. Even Mr. McDonnell seemed to know exactly who to look at—as if he already suspected as much.

“Is it true?” Mr. McDonnell asked Charlotte.

“I am not his mistress,” Charlotte said evenly, prepared to defend herself and Reid. “I am Lady Charlotte Fairfax, and I sought Mr. McCoy in Montreal to help me find my fiancé, Stephen Corning.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Reid owed Stephen a debt for saving his life. He agreed to take me as far as Grand Portage, where I was supposed to meet with Stephen, but Stephen had been ill and remained at the Upper Red River fort.”

“And where is Mr. Corning now?”

Charlotte shrugged. “He was supposed to come for me at Crow Wing, but he has not arrived.” She leaned forward, trying to beseech the man. “Reid was not keen on taking me, but I gave him little choice. If anyone is to blame, it is me.”

Mr. McDonnell let out a long, weary sigh. “Reid, you ken the rules.”

“Aye,” Reid agreed. “But I also ken she was in grave danger if I dinna take her along.”

“Danger?” Mr. McDonnell asked.

“From my guardian,” Charlotte offered. “I was forced to flee my home in England where he kept me a prisoner.”

Mr. McDonnell frowned, the lines between his eyebrows deep and unforgiving. “I’ve been entertaining an English gentleman for several weeks. When he first arrived, he was so ill, I advised him not to go looking for you.”

Alarm hammered in Charlotte’s heart as she held her breath.

“But he’s well now and would very much like to learn you’re here.” Mr. McDonnell crossed his arms. “He’s come a long way to find you. He’s concerned for your safety, lass. The fur trade is no place for a lady. You belong back in England under his watchful care.”

So, Roger had charmed Mr. McDonnell into believing his lies. Anger and panic brought her to her feet. “He doesn’t care about me—only about my inheritance.” Charlotte swallowed the fear racing up her throat.

Mr. McDonnell stood and strode to a doorway leading into the next room. “Mr. Rutherford?”

Roger had been in the next room the whole time?

Charlotte’s legs shook as she started to move toward the front door. Her desire to flee was fierce—but Lachlan stepped into her path and stopped her.

Roger appeared, a look of hatred and triumph mingling on his arrogant face. He started toward Charlotte, but Reid sprang from his chair and grabbed Roger by the lapels of his expensive coat. He pushed Roger against the wall, and Charlotte screamed.

Jean-Paul and Mr. McDonnell leapt to action and pulled Reid away from Roger.

“Stay away from her,” Reid warned Roger.

Roger straightened his lapels and stretched his neck. “I’ve come too far and withstood more than my fair share of hardship to leave her here.” He continued toward Charlotte. “You are a spoiled, vain child, and you will return with me to Blissfield Manor immediately. I have employed several guides who will take us to Montreal, posthaste. We will return home and be married by the Church of England.”

“No.” Charlotte shook her head. “I will not go with you.”

“You don’t have a choice, Charlotte. I am your legal guardian, and until you are twenty-one, I oversee your affairs.” He smiled, his mustache twitching with delight. “The law is on my side—and these men cannot do anything to stop me.”

Reid tried to pull away from Jean-Paul and Mr. McDonnell, but they held him tight. His face pinched with pain, and she wanted to beg him to stop trying—to stop hurting himself—but she also wanted his help.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Roger said to Mr. McDonnell. “But I plan to leave in the morning with Lady Charlotte.”

“Is that what you desire, Lady Charlotte?” Mr. McDonnell asked, concern on his face.

Before she could speak, Roger stepped between her and the fort commander. “She has no say in the matter.”

“I will marry her,” Reid said, trying to pull free.

“You have other things to worry about right now,” Mr. McDonnell said, resolve replacing his concern. “Mr. Rutherford must take Lady Charlotte home where she belongs.”

“What will you do with Reid?” Lachlan asked Mr. McDonnell.

The older man sighed and looked toward Reid. “Perhaps you did help Lady Charlotte out of obligation to your debt—but a rule is a rule, and you have broken it. I have no choice but to apprehend you and charge you with two crimes—both of which require a trial.” He looked disappointed and saddened. “You are charged with bringing a European woman into the interior without consent, and you are accused of the murder of an XY Company voyageur. Both charges will strip you of your job with the North West Company, and one will hold the penalty of death or imprisonment, if proven true.”

Charlotte wanted to scream or cry, to throw herself on the mercy of Mr. McDonnell—but there was nothing she could do to change Reid’s fate. Jean-Paul, Mr. McDonnell—and even Daanis—looked like they were just as upset as Charlotte. It was only Lachlan and Roger who were triumphant.