The Countess' Lucky Charm (16 page)

She reached into her pocket for a length of blue satin ribbon that she had promised to Lisette. Surely Lisette would understand. She separated a lock of her hair then tied the precious bit around it. “Does anyone have a knife?”

“Aye.” Baptiste pulled a shiny blade from his boot top and hilt first, handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She hacked away at the lock of hair, holding it up triumphantly. “Done.”

“Good.” Daniel nodded, satisfied. “Step forward slowly and present it to Chief Kwah.” He pointed to the Indian who stood slightly behind.

Simone nodded, wiped a sweaty palm on her skirt then dragged an arm across her forehead to blot the perspiration there.

Quivering like an aspen in the wind, she took a tentative step forward. She held out the lock of her hair.

“For you,” she said.

After he took her offering, she sank into the deepest curtsy she could manage, holding her skirts out as far as they could stretch, dipping her head so that all she could see was the ground beneath her.

She heard the murmur of Baptiste’s voice as he translated her words yet still she kept her head lowered. To his people, the chief was the leader, much like the king was to her and thus deserved her total respect.

“He is pleased,” she heard Baptiste say. “He tells you to rise. He has heard tales of your eyes. He wants to see them.

Simone stood, keeping her eyes on the ground until the very last minute. She let her gaze travel up over the muscled, bronzed body until she looked the man full in the face.

She startled him as much as he did her; she could tell by the way his obsidian eyes first widened then narrowed. A smile split his face, teeth standing stark white against his leathered skin and he began to gesture, pointing first at her hair, then his, then from her eyes to his. A curtain of shiny black hair rippled down his back when he tilted his head to look at the sky.

He stared at the sky for a few seconds then looked Simone full in the eyes again. Amazement shrouded his face. A sound erupted from him, a rough bark that startled Simone until she realized the man laughed. He said something to Baptiste, who began to translate again.

“He is called Kwah, Chief of the
Aghelh
Ne, or Carrier Indians. He thanks you for the lock of hair. He will treasure it and put it in his medicine bag.”

“Tell him I am happy he likes the gift.”

As Baptiste translated, she lowered her gaze again.
Kwah’s
moccasins caught her eye and she inspected them, admiring the stitches, much neater than her own sorry attempts on leather.

“Kwah wants you to look at him. He has a question.”

Startled, she jerked her head up.
Kwah’s
eyes were on her, intense, searching, his mouth stern. Feeling much like a fly caught in a spiders’ web, she clasped her hands in front of her, trying to still the turmoil in her guts.

“He wishes to take you to wife.”

“I must beg pardon?” She whirled about to look at Baptiste. “You must be mistaken.”

“No, Mrs Wellington.” Baptiste grinned at her, revealing a row of rotting teeth beneath his shaggy moustache. “He is dead serious.”

“She is already married,” Temple snarled. “To me.”

Simone turned the other way to see Temple looking daggers at the other man, chest straining against the fabric of his shirt, fists clenched tight around his rifle. It was an obvious territorial display.

Over her. Delight cascaded through her at the sight.

Over her.

Embracing that thought, she turned back to look at Kwah, careful to school her features.

The aggressive stance and tone of Temple’s voice were not lost on the chief. He spat out a few words then turned away, patently ignoring them all.

“He apologizes. He did not realize the woman with sun in her hair and sky in her eyes belonged to you.”

“Apology accepted.” Daniel interrupted, taking control of the situation. “I have blankets and some pots to show the chief if those are of interest to him and his men.”

While Baptiste completed the translation, Simone felt Temple’s hand drop on her shoulder for an instant. She risked a quick glance at him but he watched the Indians intently.

At Baptiste’s words, the Indians smiled and nodded and followed Daniel to the warehouse.

Temple
watched until they disappeared into the palisade. “That was an interesting situation, don’t you think?” Temple’s casual remark belied the tension in the fingers clutching the stock of the rifle. The index finger of his right hand brushed the trigger repeatedly.

“Flattering, I suppose. It’s not every day one receives an offer of marriage.” Simone tried to make light of the circumstances.

“Your bearing impressed me.” Temple meant every word.

Her natural grace had shone through, so much so that even Chief Kwah had noticed. The gesture of giving a lock of her hair showed a generosity of spirit not usually seen in the women of his acquaintance.

Not for the first time, he wondered about her background. The way she carried herself was at odds with the environment she had grown up in. The cream rises to the top, his schoolmaster always said. Surely it could apply to a woman as well as a man.

A gust of wind rattled the tree tops, breaking the mood.

“Shall we go?” Temple noticed Simone shiver. “The wind has chilled you.”

“Aye, I’m damp. I’d like my shawl.”

“Come.” He draped a solicitous arm over her shoulder to shepherd her back to their cabin, loving the feel of her as she walked beside him.

He made sure they passed the open warehouse door so they could be seen by Chief Kwah. The chief had better realize Simone was his woman in more than just words. Simone.

His woman. He loved the raw, primitive sound of that. His woman.

Certainly his woman as long as they stayed here.

Then what?

Chapter Thirteen

“I have something to show you,” Temple leaned on the fence to look down into the garden where Simone, on her knees, weeded the turnip rows. A month had passed since the incident with Chief
Kwah’s
son and it neared the end of July.

 
“Phew, your timing is perfect,” Simone answered, squinting up at him before rocking back on her heels. Perspiration beaded her hairline and she used a corner of her apron to swipe at her forehead. “I’ve just now finished up. Lisette asked me to take over because Polly needed a nap and wouldn’t settle here like she usually does. I think it’s too warm for the little one.”

“It is hot,” Temple agreed, “the perfect day for a surprise.”

“A surprise? For me?” She tried to read his expression but the late August sun sat behind him and all she could see was the dark outline of his head.

“I daresay it’s a surprise for me, too.”

“How can it be a surprise for you? You know what it is.” She got to her feet then bent over to massage the ache in her knees. “Do we have far to go?”

“A surprise in that I didn’t know I could do it.” A self-deprecating smile crooked his lips. “Doubtless a few other people would be surprised, too. And no,” he added, “it isn’t far. Just down to the beach below the trading post.”

“Stop teasing me and tell me what it is,” Simone pouted, hands on her hips.

“No, you have to see it. Come along.” Without waiting for her, he spun around on his heel and strode away.

“Temple! Wait!”

“You’ll just need to walk a little faster, Simone. The faster we get there, the sooner you’ll know what it is.” The words tumbled over his rapidly receding shoulder. Within mere seconds, he passed through the gate and disappeared from her view. Even though out of sight, his whistled tune hung on the breeze—a ribald ditty usually heard in the ale houses at home.

“Oh, you,” she muttered before picking up her skirts to scurry after him.

Temple
was headed straight to the water’s edge, toward what looked no more than a skinned log. Not until she got closer could she see it was hollowed out.

“It’s a canoe,” he said proudly when she reached him.

“I can see that. Where did it come from?”

“I made it. With the help of
Baptiste
and
Musdoos
.”

“You made it?” She stared at him, dumbstruck. “You? But when?”

“Yes, me.” He scowled at her obvious amazement. “It’s where I’ve been every afternoon after finishing in the warehouse.”

She had offended him so she hastened to make amends. “It’s beautiful. Are you going to take me for a paddle?” She flashed him her sweetest, most winsome smile. “It’s a lovely afternoon.”

“After that reaction, I’m not sure you deserve a paddle.” He grumbled but Simone could see him softening.

“Oh, please, Temple, please. You took me by surprise, is all. Gentlemen aren’t usually caught up in the pursuit of making canoes.”

“I loved it, Simone.” Excitement exploded from his very pores. “With every pull of the blade, every blow of the chisel, a thing of beauty came to life beneath my hands. Feel how smooth.” He tugged on her hand, placing it on the forward lip. “And here.” He moved her hand to feel inside.

“It is beautiful,” she breathed. “I love how you can see every stroke in the wood. You did this?” She touched the outside of the canoe, feeling the ridges left by the blade. The ridges made a pattern that resembled feathers on a bird.

Temple
had built this. Pride at his ability filled her. Her man.

“Well, Musdoos started it but once I got the hang of it, he left it to me. Baptiste came along to interpret for me.”

“Musdoos?”

“He’s one of the Indians I meet regularly at the warehouse.”

“Have you tried it out yet?”

“I have.” His chest swelled with satisfaction. “I had to paddle it over from the village.”

“Take me out on the lake, Temple. It’s too warm here.” She fanned herself with both hands so as to prove her point.

“Precisely my thought, Simone. That’s my surprise—a paddle on the lake. Get in.” He held his hand out to help her in. “You must sit facing forward so you can see where we go.”

Once she settled herself, he shoved off, wading through the water a few steps before stepping in. The canoe rocked a little while he manoeuvred to his knees then he grabbed a paddle.

“Are you certain you know how to do this?” Doubtful, she looked over her shoulder at him as he dipped the paddle in the water first on one side, then the other. In no time, it dipped and flashed in rhythm and they were gliding over the water.

“Nothing to it,” he replied. “I’ve practiced a bit. Musdoos gave me some tips.”

Simone sat for a few moments, fists so tightly clutching the edge of the canoe that the fingers were white. Gradually, however, she relaxed, letting loose her grip to lean over and trail one hand through the cool liquid.

“How lovely.” She lifted her hand, watching the drips roll off her fingers and hit the water like so many crystal beads.

“Yes, very lovely.” Temple said pleasantly, to all intents and purposes agreeing with Simone, but in reality commenting on the pleasing sight of her in her periwinkle blue seersucker frock. “Now sit still or you shall tip us over.”

“Aye aye, captain.” She twisted around to throw him a saucy look but her motion caused the canoe to rock side to side. With a squawk, she grabbed for the canoe gunnels, holding on with both hands.

Behind her, she could hear Temple’s throaty chuckle. Thankful he couldn’t see her face for certainly it must be beet red, she kept her back stiff, nose tipped in the air.

At first they followed the shore but as Temple grew more confident, he began to traverse their little craft across the rocky points marking each little indent in the shoreline. They rounded one promontory and saw a bear gorging itself on berries; another time, a flash of rusty red as they disturbed a fox drinking from the water’s edge.

“Look!” Temple pointed at an osprey hovering overhead.

“Oh!” With wide eyes and open mouth, Simone watched as it dove at breakneck speed, plunging into the water before emerging with a wriggling silver fish clutched in its talons. It flew off into the blue brilliance of the sky, disappearing behind some tree tops, fish still struggling valiantly to escape.

A doomed endeavour, Simone thought. “Poor fish,” she murmured.

“That’s the law of nature,” Temple shrugged, voice matter of fact. “Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. Sink or swim.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still a horrid end.”

“Speaking of a horrid end, it’s time we turn back. The sun is getting low.”

“I’m ready to go back, too. I’m getting hungry.” As if to emphasize her words, her stomach rumbled. “Lisette has a fresh salmon and invited us to eat along with them.”

“Well, double the reason to hurry back, then.” And with a few strokes, Temple turned the canoe. “I think we can cut across the lake to save some time.”