Chapter 21
Fort Charlotte was perched high enough for lookouts to see over the tips of the wooden stockade to the dense forest surrounding it.
Getting to it had taken five days, the terrain becoming more difficult and homesteads more scattered the further they’d ventured.
They’d travelled by day, setting up camp at night beneath a glorious sky studded with stars, some still and some shooting across the heavens like fiery arrows.
The food they’d brought with them was augmented with freshly killed game, the young officer being the best shot.
Although Ethan joked about younger eyes and suchlike, Lochranza got the impression he was quite put out by the younger man’s success.
‘Aw, shucks. Just beginner’s luck, sir,’ said Wellow in an accent Lochranza was pretty sure didn’t belong to him.
On occasion, they’d heard the howling of wolves. Sometimes it was the screech of an owl or a nightjar that cleaved the darkness.
‘Could be Indians,’ stated Wellow.
Ethan silently peered into the darkness, eyes narrowed, ears attuned to the slightest sound.
Lochranza rolled onto her side. He was lying on his side facing her, elbow bent and his head resting on his hand. His smile was languid. ‘If you were a little closer, I would kiss you, but I dare not.’
This Ethan out here seemed different to the one she’d first met back in England. Different than the one she knew back at Glen Dirk, and he intrigued her.
The light from the campfire emphasised the contours of his face, the vivid red of the scar.
‘Seeing you in the firelight glow, the richness of your hair, the shape of your face…’ he paused, his eyes raking her from head to toe, lingering on her breasts and her hips. ‘…the curves of your body, I would not be able to resist. I would have to have you here and now in this wilderness.’
‘So, unlike Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, you are not giving into temptation. Is that it?’
‘I would if Wellow wasn’t here. I want you very much and I will have you. However, Wellow is sure to come back and interrupt us.’
She smiled. ‘Once you have me, you will never want anyone else.’
He looked amused. ‘And how do I know that, my dear, until I try? The proof of the pudding…’
‘…Is in the eating!’
That night, beneath a canopy of stars, she worked out how to help Venus achieve her goal at the same time as helping herself.
She wasn’t one for jealousy, but in this case she just couldn’t help herself.
She’d heard stories from members of the Anti-Slavery Society that slave owners regularly copulated with their women.
She bristled at the thought of it, convinced that Ethan would not let Venus go because he wanted her for himself.
She couldn’t allow that. Never before had she considered that she might love him.
It was his adventurous spirit and an overheard conversation that had first snared her into accepting the chance to marry him.
Her feelings for him had blossomed from mere buds into something far more voluptuous, something that could not be ignored.
* * *
The rain fell just as they were approaching the main entrance to the fort. A keen sentry let a shot go over their heads.
‘You’re supposed to ask who goes there, not blast our heads off before we’ve opened our mouths,’ Ethan shouted at him.
The sentry didn’t hear. It was Wellow who apologised. ‘My apologies, your lordship…’
‘Sir. There are no aristocrats in America, Lieutenant. Call me sir or Mr MacKinnon. Even Ethan once we know each other better.’
At this request, Wellow seemed to sink more comfortably into his saddle. ‘Rest assured, I’ll have him on punishment before morning,’ he growled.
The gates to the fort were already open and from where they were, the sunset behind them, they could see the expanse of parade ground and the wooden houses clustered against the stockade walls.
Outside the stockade, smoke rose from the cone-like tips of a trio of Indian lodges.
They were round and looked to be made of tree bark.
A few men stood there wrapped in blankets, feathers fluttering in their hair, narrowed eyes surveying them from hawkish features.
Seated women watched them just as intently, whilst children bolted around the place, unconcerned with the adult world and the people who lived in it.
Once within its protective walls, it seemed the whole population came out to welcome them.
A guard of honour ran hastily into prearranged places. Women stood on shaded verandas in front of their homes, their dresses crisp and clean, their hair pulled severely back into buns.
For the most part, they wore dark colours, though a few dared to wear checks in earthy colours. The children stood in soldierly lines looking to be wearing their Sunday best, shoes shining, hats perched firmly on boys’ heads, bonnets tied with bows beneath girls’ chins.
The main offices seemed to be straight ahead of them.
The officer who looked to be in charge had blond hair that was almost white.
It was so shiny, so tight to his head, that, at first, Lochranza thought that, like a knight of antiquity, he was wearing a helmet, though it reached to his shoulders.
The clothes he was wearing were only a shade darker – not a uniform at all but made of a soft leather resembling goatskin.
Straight-backed and stiff in the legs, he came down the steps in front of the office. He welcomed Ethan and shook his hand.
Ethan responded with the same words and straight-backed wariness.
The colonel was sharp-eyed and, as he spoke to her, his hands behind his back, his silky moustache, a mix of silver and gold whiskers, protruded forward on his pouting upper lip. He read her quickly, the way her eyes fixed on his outfit.
‘I sense curiosity, your ladyship. I am not a man for conforming to what is usually done or what is usually worn. The items I am wearing are very much like the red man wears. Buckskins, my dear. Here! Touch it.’
He held out his arm for her to touch. The material was soft, like kid gloves. There were patterns down the sleeves and fringes falling along their length.
She found herself blanching at their intensity before bristling as she waited for him to say how beautiful she was and that Ethan was a lucky man to have found her.
He went on to invite them to dine with him that night.
‘Not just with me, but everyone here. A little music and dancing have been arranged in your honour. Nothing too strenuous or outlandish. The women here are of stern descent. They’d never stand for it.’
A cabin huddled against the side of the stockade had been readied for their occupation. While Ethan and the colonel incarcerated themselves in the colonel’s office, Lochranza was taken to their overnight lodgings.
She was accompanied to the clean but humble abode by Martha Prendergast, an upright lady with sharp features and hooded eyes. She looked to be at least sixty years of age and didn’t say much until they were inside.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Folks are roughing it tonight whilst you’re comfortable in their bed.’
The comment surprised her. ‘You mean people have given up their house and bed for us?’
‘We heard you were a lady. Ladies are not used to roughing it. Too weak a disposition,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lochranza began apologetically. ‘But I just can’t sleep in this bed.’
Mrs Prendergast’s weather-beaten face stiffened. ‘Sorry, I’m sure!’ she exclaimed. ‘We’re short of castles and palaces round here, and might I point out that good folk have turned out of their own little palace to fit the likes of you in!’
‘I’m saying exactly that, Mrs Prendergast! It’s not fair that people should be turned out of their own bed to accommodate me.’
‘Well, excuse me! I was given to understand that high-born ladies were of a delicate disposition!’
‘Some are, but not this one!’
Their voices rose, neither woman giving way an inch. At last, some kind of understanding was reached, though both women continued to eye each other with wary suspicion.
Lochranza decided it was her who had to offer the hand of friendship. ‘You must tell the people who live in this lovely little house to come home. It’s not fair for them to be inconvenienced for my sake. I’ve slept under the stars on the way here. I can’t see why I can’t do that again.’
Mrs Prendergast looked surprised, as though she really hadn’t considered the fact, when of course she should have. The journey was long. There had been no alternative but to sleep around a campfire. Hotels were non-existent this far from civilisation.
‘Where was my fiancé to be billeted?’
‘In the small guardhouse beside the main gate.’
‘Alone?’
After seemingly appearing to reappraise the situation, Mrs Prendergast nodded. ‘There is room for two. It’s not even a proper bed. Two bunks, one on top of the other.’
‘Two bunks, you say. One for each of us. That should suit us very well.’
She just about refrained from smiling at the thought of Ethan’s face when he found out they were sharing. One on top of the other would be very acceptable. It would fit in with her plans perfectly.
Mrs Prendergast didn’t look convinced this would suit. ‘Are you sure?’
Lochranza smiled sweetly. ‘Very sure. I think I shall be very comfortable. Shall we go there now?’
* * *
It was past sundown when Ethan found his way to the accommodation in the guardhouse. Its roof leaned against the stockade that protected Fort Charlotte.
It was obvious the moment he entered that he was not prepared to find her there, least of all sharing a sleeping facility. Obviously, the colonel had informed him that she would be sleeping in the Taylors’ bed and, seeing as they were not yet married, he would be sleeping in one of the bunks.
‘Am I in the right place?’ he asked incredulously, looking around him at their humble accommodation. ‘Let me rephrase that. Are you in the right place?’
Her smile was unreservedly coquettish. ‘Top or bottom?’
At first, he seemed dumbstruck, though not for long. His eyes lit up. ‘We’re both sleeping here?’