Page 46 of Beloved Enemy
“Exactly.”
“Guid day then,” said Reid’s sister before turning and walking away.
Charlotte stared after her, a little pissed, a little hurt, and not particularly caring for the woman, considering all that false brightness Fiona had projected when Charlotte had first opened the door as opposed to the decidedly unfriendly Fiona of the last few minutes.
Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte decided that while Fiona wasn’t exactly a mean girl, she clearly had the potential to be under the right circumstances.
***
Charlotte stood at the water’s edge in nothing but her shift, her silhouette illuminated by the fading sunlight. Her bare feet sunk slightly into the mud as she bent to scoop water over a giggling, naked Thomas, the small boy splashing joyfully as if the entireworld was his playground. The lad leapt into the air at Charlotte with a child’s confidence, sure that she would catch him, which she did.
“You goof,” she chided playfully, and swung him once and then again, as the lad might have expected. “That’s enough though. We’ve got to get you dried and dressed and back home to your mother now.”
Beneath the wide and low canopy of an expansive yew, Reid sat upon his destrier, watching. His gaze traced the soft lines of her face. There was a simplicity to her expression, an openness that he was unaccustomed to. She didn’t wear the guarded, wary look of the women he knew, or as she herself often did in his company. No, Charlotte here and now was different, her face unclouded. And despite his best efforts to keep his distance, he found himself intrigued. Reid knew he should look away, but something about the unguarded way she moved—how she smiled at the boy’s antics and wrung water from her skirts with a carefree grace—kept him rooted where he sat. His eyes lingered on the pale fabric of her shift, the way it clung to her legs and hips, damp and nearly translucent from the splashes of water. His breath tightened in his chest.
Bluidy hell, what was he doing? He had no right to stand here, watching her like this, imagining things he had no business imagining.
Clearing his throat, Reid urged his horse forward, out from under the tree. Charlotte turned, startled, her eyes wide for a brief moment before softening in recognition.
“Oh, hello. I was just giving Thomas a bath,” she explained, motioning to the child as if to justify why she was there, nearly undressed and dripping with water. She gave him a crooked, sheepish smile. “Someone decided that mud pies were quite tasty and since it was on my watch, it seemed my responsibility to clean him up.”
Reid dismounted while Charlotte finished helping the lad rinse off in the shallows.
“I can’t get him to gargle, though,” she said over her shoulder, “and his mouth still looks like he just ate an Oreo cookie.”
Reid had only some idea what she meant but could not see, as Thomas was blocked from view.
Charlotte was bent at the waist with her back to him, offering a tantalizing view of her bottom, where one side of her shift was wet but clung provocatively to her flesh, meaning that little consideration was given to what anOreo cookiemight be.
She stood suddenly then, twirling around, her gaze jerking to his, as if she just now realized the view she’d inadvertently presented. Either her sudden awareness or his heated gaze, which he didn’t bother to avert, provoked a bright flush in her cheeks. At the same time, the cool breeze nipped at her exposed arms, raising gooseflesh.
Reid’s plaid was draped over his shoulder, and without thinking much of it, he unwrapped it and held it out to her.
“Take this. You’ll catch your death in that soaked thing.”
Charlotte glanced down at herself, and her cheeks blossomed even brighter. "Thank you," she murmured, wrapping the warm fabric around her. “How many of these do you have,” she asked, grinning a bit, “now that I have two?” She scooped up a watchful Thomas in her arms, covering him with the dry wool.
Even with the lad in her arms, she looked small wrapped in his plaid. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing his plaid around her slender frame, as if it marked her as his.
Trying to see around Thomas, she dug her feet into her shoes, those strange ones she’d arrive in, and which were quickly hidden by the length of her shift. A hand appeared from inside the breacan, and she bent, collecting the léine she’d left on the shore.
“We’re heading back,” she said, darting glances at him, hesitating.
“I’ll walk with ye.” He had a dozen things on his agenda today and didn’t know why he felt the necessity to accompany her on the short walk. But then he understood it was more about an ungovernable want than need. He tightened his jaw, abhorring his weakness around Charlotte.
They started back toward the village, walking side by side, his horse trailing along as Reid held the reins.
Silence fell between them but did not last long.
“Guess what I did today?” Charlotte asked soon enough, a little bounce to her step. When he lifted an inquiring brow, she told him, “I milked a goat. All by myself.” Her grin was infectious. “I hated every minute of it—sorry, it’s just so gross. But I did it.”
Reid chuckled despite himself, charmed by her enthusiasm, and even her squeamishness and the accompanying face she made to go with it.
"Ye’ve settled in well," he said, glancing at her. "It’s been... what? A week?"
"Just about," she replied. "Though if you told me it was a month, I’d believe you. Time seems strange here." Her expression softened, and she stared forward, thoughtful. "I’ve decided that I might as well embrace my time here. I mean how many people get an opportunity like this? And the truth is I’m twenty-six years old and this er, experience has highlighted the fact that I’ve done nothing extraordinary in my life. I’ve...well, I’ve seen nothing, been nowhere, haven’t even...” she paused and shrugged and didn’t finish her thought. “Anyway, as crazy as all of this is, I’m trying to embrace it for the adventure."
Reid’s brow furrowed, a wave of surprise washing over him. "Ye’ve done nothing? I find that hard to believe."
