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

28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A nother sleepless night kept Reid on his feet praying while pacing across the length of his room. The snow continued to fall, even when the sun warmed the horizon and brought light to the gray day. He had hoped it would let up enough to depart for Crow Wing, but it would force him to stay at least one more day. What would people think if he didn’t attend Charlotte’s wedding? He could feign illness, but that felt like the coward’s way out. She had said it would be best if he stayed away, so would she be angry if he came?

The scent of fried bacon found its way to Reid’s room, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. His stomach growled and he realized he could never fake sickness when he was this hungry.

He dressed in his best clothing, taking time to shave, comb his hair, and brush his coat. If he attended breakfast, surely he’d be expected to witness the wedding, and if so, he wanted to look presentable. If not for Charlotte’s sake, then for his own pride.

There was little activity in the house, which was a surprise. With the wedding soon upon them, he expected to hear furniture moving, animated voices, and footsteps up and down the length of the room below him. But all was silent.

Reid left his room and walked down the hall, his gaze resting on Charlotte’s closed door. Was she in there now, preparing herself to be married? Would she wear the same green gown, or had someone found a different one for her? There were several mixed-blood women at the post, including Joseph’s own wife. Was someone helping her dress?

No sounds came from Charlotte’s room, either, but he wasn’t sure what he expected to hear. Girlish laughter? Shared confidences?

Assuming the meal would be served in the large room, he walked down the stairs and opened the door into the space.

The first thing he saw was the furniture. It was back in its original places, a seating arrangement near the fireplace, the large rugs spread out over the floor, a table in one corner.

The second thing he saw was the woman standing near the fireplace. She faced the crackling flames with her back to him. She wore the green gown again, the same ribbon secured around her head, the sash of her gown tied snug at her small waist.

Reid paused, his pulse racing at the sight of her. He hadn’t expected to find her alone—hadn’t expected to see her at all.

Charlotte turned, and when their eyes met in the light of day, he could do nothing but smile. By candlelight, she was stunning—but surreal. In the daylight, she was the same Charlotte he’d fallen in love with—only she was dressed as the bonnie lass she was meant to be.

Her lips lifted into a beautiful smile, and he was certain his chest would explode from the bittersweet pleasure it brought to his heart.

He didn’t move from his place near the door, uncertain if he should stay or leave. Was she waiting for Stephen?

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “For hours.”

“Me?”

“Aye,” she said with a Scottish brogue and a gleam in her brown eyes.

He closed the door and walked across the room to stand before her, anticipation filling his chest.

She inhaled, as if she was taking the first breath in a long while. And when she looked up at him and met his gaze, her eyes swam with a tenderness that made his knees weak.

“What are you about this fair morning, lass?” he asked, his own brogue thickening. “Is there not a wedding to plan and attend?”

Charlotte touched the cravat at his throat and repositioned one of the folds.

He wanted to take her hand in his and press it against his beating heart, hoping to somehow still the rhythm. But he didn’t touch her.

She lowered her hand and rested it by her side. “There is no wedding planned at the moment.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I called off the wedding.”

Instead of growing more still, his heart beat even harder. “Why?”

“Because Stephen is in love with another woman.” She looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes. “And because I’m in love with another man.”

He touched the curl at her temple and ran his finger down the side of her cheek, pleasure and relief and love filling his heart until he thought it might burst.

“And does he love you?” he asked.

She searched his gaze. “I believe he does. I hope he does.”

“Aye.” His voice caught, and he slipped his free hand around her waist, drawing her closer to him, feeling this moment was too good to be true but not caring. Her body pressed against his, and he lowered his lips to capture hers in a kiss unlike any other. Every desire and longing in his heart poured into the kiss, but it was the freedom in holding her, in not being ashamed or guilty for the pleasure he felt, that made the moment sweet. After he thoroughly kissed her, he ran his thumb over her swollen lips. “I love you more than life itself, lass.”

She rested her cheek against his chest. “What will we do?”

“Whatever we need to be together.”

“Are we being unrealistic?”

He pulled back, so she had to look into his eyes. “Charlotte, there is nothing on this side of heaven that I love or value more than you. It was unrealistic of me to think I could return to my former life and find any joy there without you.”

“I will give up Blissfield Manor and live in Montreal, so you don’t have to travel as far to see me when you have leave.”

He placed his hands on either side of her precious face. “I would never let you give up your home. If you’ll have me, I would love to see it for myself—to make it my own.”

She blinked several times. “You’d give up the fur trade for me?”

He kissed her forehead and then wrapped his arms around her. “I thought I had lost you, and I couldna imagine how I would live the rest of my life with you in England in the arms of another man.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest again as her arms encircle him.

“I’d give up everything for you.” He kissed the top of her head. “From this day until the one I die, I dinna want to leave your side ever again.”

“What about becoming a shareholder?” She looked up at him and frowned. “It’s what you’ve wanted for years.”

“I wanted retaliation and vengeance.” He sighed. “And now that I have it, I feel numb toward the fur trade and numb toward my faither.”

“Do you know where your father lives?”

“Aye.” Reid hated to admit the truth. “He lives near Grand Portage.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “And you didn’t go to see him when you were there?”

“He’s lived in the same spot for the past fifteen years, and not once did I go to see him.”

She stepped out of his embrace. “You need to go.”

He reached for her again, grasping a bit of fabric on her dress. “I dinna want to see him.”

“I think you should.” She took his hands in hers and brought them to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “Will you introduce me to him?”

He frowned, never contemplating such a thing. “Would you truly like to meet him?”

“I would.” She rubbed the tops of his hands with her thumbs. “And I think you might enjoy seeing him too.”

“It means I would have to meet his country wife.”

“I know.”

She was right, even if he wasn’t ready to admit the truth. He needed to see his father, at least one more time. There were things they needed to say to one another before he left for England.

Letting go of Reid, Charlotte stepped back and clasped her hands together. She stood before him, a smile on her lips. “Well?”

He wanted to hold her again but stayed where he stood. “Well, what?” he asked with a smile.

“Is there something you need to ask me?”

There were a great many things he wanted to ask her, but only one thing that mattered in this moment.

“Aye, there is.” He put his hands behind his back and offered a slight bow. “I’ve heard there is a priest who is coming to the post today to perform a wedding.”

She nodded.

“I’ve also heard there is a bonnie young woman who is dressed in a pretty gown, waiting to be married.” He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “But more importantly, there is a man who canna wait another moment to take a bride.”

Her brown eyes sparkled.

“I love you, lass.” He lowered her hands. “Will you marry me?”

Her smile was brighter and more beautiful than any he’d ever seen.

“Aye. I thought you’d never ask.”

Standing outside the great room on Joseph McDonnell’s arm, waiting to join Reid, Charlotte felt so many things, yet peace was foremost. She had many questions, but there was no doubt in her mind that she was meant to be Reid’s wife. Her entire journey, from escaping her bedroom at Blissfield Manor until this moment, each step had been orchestrated by a God who loved her and wanted her best, even if her best came through hardship and trials.

“Are you ready, lass?” Joseph asked.

Charlotte met his happy gaze and nodded.

“You’re a bonnie bride—the first European lady to marry in the northwest wilderness.”

An honor, indeed.

Joseph’s wife, Nicolette, opened the door, and Joseph led Charlotte into the great room. Two dozen guests had gathered, but Charlotte hardly knew them. The only person in the room who mattered stood near the fireplace beside the French priest, wearing his best mauve-colored tailcoat and the brightest smile she’d ever seen.

She returned the smile, hoping her face was as bright and just as full of hope.

The green dress she’d borrowed from Nicolette felt as if it had been tailored for her. It fit snug across her bosom and was cinched just below her chest with a sash. The skirt was straight and had a matching ribbon along the hem. She had taken a bath and used Nicolette’s lavender-scented soap and hoped Reid liked the smell. She hadn’t felt this beautiful since before her parents had died—and it was all because of the man who waited for her near the crackling fire. Even at her worst, he had made her feel lovely—but now, standing before him, she felt as if no one in the world was as desirable or attractive as her.

When they arrived at the fireplace, Reid extended his hand, and Joseph gave her to the fur trader.

He took her to his side, wrapping his arm around hers, and pulled their clasped hands near his heart. He’d also bathed and smelled of wood smoke and sandalwood as he stood tall and proud beside her.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest began in French. His words faded away as Charlotte gazed up at Reid. She tried to listen to the priest, wanted to hear the words he was speaking, but Reid’s eyes were communicating in such a way she could hear nothing above the sound of his love.

“Do you, Lady Charlotte Fairfax, take Mr. Reid McCoy to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him and honor him, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Mr. Reid McCoy, take Lady Charlotte Fairfax to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her and honor her, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

The longing in Reid’s eyes made Charlotte’s cheeks burn with anticipation.

“Aye,” he said. “I do.”

“Do you have rings?” the priest asked.

Reid slipped his fingers into his vest pocket and removed a simple gold band. “It was my grandmither’s ring,” he said to Charlotte. “I hope it doesna disappoint ye.”

How could it disappoint, when it represented his love and commitment? “I’m very glad to wear her ring.”

The priest smiled. “Please say after me—with this ring, I thee wed.”

Reid put the ring on her fourth finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

It was still warm from his pocket, and it slipped on easily.

“I also have an old Celtic vow of my own I’d like to speak,” he told the priest.

When the priest nodded, Reid turned to Charlotte and took both her hands in his. “I, Reid McCoy, in the name of the Spirit of God that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee Charlotte Fairfax to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one.” His eyes brimmed with love, and she could not contain the tears any longer. They trailed down her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away.

“To desire thee and be desired by thee,” he continued, speaking only to her, as if no one else was present, “to possess thee, and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame—” His voice broke at this declaration, and he took a moment to collect himself before he continued. “For naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again. I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself.”

She finally released his hand to wipe her tears, and she whispered, “I love you.”

The priest closed his Bible with a contented smile. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Reid slipped one hand around her waist and the other he placed on her cheek, then he kissed her as if it were the first time. Pleasure coursed through her, and she forgot about the others until they clapped and cheered.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Our union is not only blessed but also celebrated.” He smiled. “And now I may kiss you whenever I like, and I may hold your hand and proclaim to the world that you are mine.”

She took his hand in her own and returned his smile. “And I do not have to hide my love or withhold it from you any longer.” The knowledge that they could openly love each other was a wonderful gift. “I will never take that privilege for granted.”

Joseph and Nicolette insisted on giving them a wedding feast. They ate, laughed, and held hands through the whole meal—but when the sun began to set and the food had been cleared away, Reid pulled Charlotte to her feet.

“’Tis time we take our leave, my love. I canna wait any longer.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes proclaiming a promise that her heart could hardly contain.

“You’ll not stay for the dancing?” Joseph asked the couple as he met them at the door.

“No.” Reid shook his head, and that was all he said to their host.

“Good night, then,” Joseph called to them as they left the room behind, a knowing laugh in his voice.

Her heart began to pound as they walked down the hallway and up the stairs, side by side, hand in hand. Reid held a candle aloft, allowing her to see the next step.

They did not speak, but from time to time, they caught each other’s eye, and a tender smile passed between them.

Her belongings, the few she owned, had been moved into Reid’s room, so he led her to the room at the end of the hall and opened the door.

She stepped into the large space, and he followed and closed the door behind him.

A fire had been laid in the hearth, and it popped and sizzled. Smoke drifted up the chimney, and just outside the window, the snow continued to fall.

Reid set his candle on the windowsill, his hand steady, his purpose clear.

When he turned, their gazes met, and she suddenly felt like the young lady who had started off on this journey with him seven months before. Shy, uncertain, a little scared, yet completely confident that she was doing the right thing.

“How many times did I lay beside you in that tent and hope that one day you would be my wife?” He walked toward her, his eyes taking in her body from head to foot without shame or hesitation.

A thrill of excitement raced up her spine as she reveled in the feel of his desire. They’d denied their feelings for so long, there was freedom in knowing they could take pleasure in one another. She smiled at him, hoping he saw the love and longing in her eyes.

His hand went to her curls, as they so often did, but this time, his touch lingered. “I canna wait until your hair is down to your waist again.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he kissed her, taking her breath away.

This time, he did not hold anything back as he pulled her to himself, his muscles flexing and jumping where they touched her body.

Her own senses became alert as her skin tingled from his touch.

The kiss was long and deep and left her shaking and wanting more.

“Do you still have your drawings?” he asked when he pulled back for a moment.

“I do.”

“And do you still have the one of me?”

Her cheeks warmed at the question, but she nodded. “I do.”

He slipped off his coattails and set them over the back of the chair. Then, turning to her, watching her, he began to unbutton his shirt. The firelight danced in his dark brown eyes. “Why did you draw that portrait of me, love?”

It was her turn to walk toward him. With a boldness she had acquired in the wilderness, and a confidence she had gained through his love, she slipped her hands inside the front of his shirt and finally allowed herself to enjoy tracing his muscles with the tips of her fingers. “Because I had never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of your body.”

It was all she needed to say. With a groan deep inside his throat, Reid lifted her into his arms and walked her to the bed.