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‘Righ’, you see ‘im?’ Arthur asked. He knelt down by Charlotte, as he gestured through the undergrowth and shrubs, to a deer that was grazing peacefully in the woods. A cold wind whistled through the trees, it obscured both their scent and the sound of their tread on the ground that was covered in dank, brown leaves. A few drops of rain splashed on Arthur’s cheek, and he glanced up towards the thick, grey clouds overhead.
‘Mmhm,’ Charlotte nodded, her eyes fixed on the deer as she carefully lifted the rifle. She managed to avoid scraping it amongst the leaves and twigs, and she rested it against her shoulder and aimed carefully.
Arthur watched her, now a natural at holding the gun. Her eyes stayed fixed on the prey, her hand steady, the slow inhalation and exhalation of breath. She didn’t rush through the motions, taking her time rather than feeling pressured to shoot too quickly. He couldn’t help the feeling of pride that surged into his chest. She was a very different woman than when they had first met, but she had always been brave and brilliant.
He quickly looked back to the deer. The creature raised their head, slowly chewing the grass it had been eating and turned dark brown eyes on them. The loud crack of gunshot echoed through the trees, the wood falling silent apart from a few birds squawking and flying off from the trees. The deer was lying on the grass, Charlotte had dispatched him with a nice clean shot. Charlotte smiled in triumph and Arthur gave a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. It was the only touch he allowed himself, though every time Charlotte greeted him with a kiss to his cheek his heart would race furiously!
‘Nice shot,’ he said, and felt his heart practically stutter as she turned her delighted smile on him when she heard his praise.
He busied himself with whistling for his horse, Cleopatra, and then tying the deer on to her. ‘Think if we… um… head down to the river and follow it…’
Heavy drops of rain pattered the way through the tree tops and Charlotte stepped closer to him, so she could have some shelter under the oak tree where he was standing. He heard a rumble of thunder, it was miles off, but perhaps it would be best to cut their losses and head for home.
‘Actually, think we should try to head back. Storm’s comin’ in.’
Charlotte nodded and then placed her rifle over her shoulder. ‘We’ve got enough food and I can always go hunting tomorrow. But you will stay for dinner, won’t you?’
Arthur chuckled, he was familiar with that particular tone of voice. It boded no argument! ‘Sure. Be happy to. But least let me butcher this deer for yer.’
‘Sure. But promise me you’ll stay the night if this weather gets worse, you know I hate the idea of you sleeping outside when it’s like this.’
‘Charlotte, I’m used to it.’
‘Well, I’m not used to it.’ She gave a whistle for her own horse, Mickey, and then turned to look at Arthur with her brow raised, as though daring him to argue with her.
He sighed, though he couldn’t help his smile on seeing her hands on her hips and that stern look. ‘Fine, I’ll stay.’ Truth be told it didn’t take much to convince him to stay in a warm house with a good fire, some decent food and a dry bed! Though the main thing to convince him was Charlotte herself.
‘Good.’ She beamed at him and he wondered if there would ever come a time when he would say no to her.
As they mounted up, the rain began to pour down. At first it wasn’t so bad, but soon it became a thick grey curtain, drumming heavily on the ground and turning the damp earth to thick mud in a matter of minutes. Arthur took the lead, trying to get them back as soon as possible. He had some protection from his leather jacket and hat, but when he turned to look back at Charlotte, he could see her hair was sticking to her scalp and her wool jacket was soaked through.
He urged his horse on. He cursed that they had gone so far from Charlotte’s home. He should’ve known the weather was going to turn, but they had both been so invested in following the deer to get some decent food for Charlotte’s cupboards, that they’d walked much further than he realised.
‘Arthur, what about that cave?’ he heard Charlotte call over the wind. He followed her pointed finger towards the grey rocks. He didn’t fancy stumbling across a bear, wolf or cougar lurking in there, but at this point they might not have much choice.
‘Lemme check it first.’ He dismounted from his horse and pulled the shotgun from the saddle. ‘You stay here.’
‘Aren’t two guns better than one?’
‘Not if we both get mauled by a bear!’
She flinched and he remembered all too quickly that was the way her husband had been killed. He was about to apologise, but Charlotte had already jumped down from her horse and grabbed her rifle. She walked over to his side.
‘I’m coming with you,’ she said determinedly.
‘Charlotte, I’m sor-’
She was already trekking across the forest, over to the cave, and Arthur jogged over to her side. She was resolutely marching forward, the mud sticking to her boots, her eyes fixed on the cave. He lowered his head, the rain dripping down his neck. Why did he always mess up around Charlotte? Damn, insensitive fool that he was. He’d said it without thinking! And he wouldn’t blame her a bit if she was angry or upset with him.
The cave was blessedly empty, though still cold. Charlotte sat down on the sandy floor, her rifle across her knees. She looked miserable. Her shirt and cardigan were still soaked through. Arthur whistled for the horses to join them. He had a spare shirt and jacket in his saddle bag and could at least offer Charlotte that to make some amends.
He pulled out the grey shirt and blue jacket, then headed over to Charlotte. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, so he proffered the clothes again. ‘Here. Sorry, for what I said.’
She took the clothes cautiously, then sighed. ‘It wasn’t- You didn’t mean-’
‘I know, just bein’ an idiot. I’ll… I’ll turn my back, so yer can dress. You’ll least be a bit warmer, we ain’t goin’ to be able to get any wood for a fire during this.’
She nodded, then placed the rifle on the ground, before getting up. Arthur quickly turned around and walked to the opening of the cave, keeping his back turned and gazing out on the sheet of rain that hammered into the ground. He couldn’t even really see the woods outside, it had all turned into a grey mist.
‘Alright, I’m done.’
He turned back around and had to stop himself from a rapid intake of breath. Somehow seeing her in his clothes did something to him. He gave Charlotte an uneasy smile, while trying not to think about them both lying in bed, Charlotte wearing nothing but his shirt. The sleeves almost covering her hands, the buttons so easy to open.
Charlotte smiled and struck a pose, one hip jutted out, her hands resting on her belt. ‘What d’you think, cowboy?’
He bit his tongue hard and swallowed. What he wouldn’t give to tell her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even when she was fooling around and the jacket swamped her. He managed a tight chuckle.
‘Yer look good, Mrs Balfour.’
‘Hmm, think I’m missing something though,’ she said, as she rolled up the shirt sleeves and approached him.
He frowned; he wasn’t sure if he had any other clothes he could offer her. Most of his clothing was in a chest at Hamish’s cabin. But without warning, she suddenly grabbed his hat, shook of the worse of the rain and then plonked it onto her head. She gazed up at him, underneath the brim, looking a little coquettish. He laughed at her teasing, but then stopped as she cupped his cheek and he felt her thumb run over his stubble.
‘I know what you said was an accident, Arthur. Don’t be so harsh on yourself when you make a mistake.’
‘I… just… well, it was foolish of me.’ Words seemed a lot harder to think of when she was touching his cheek and her eyes were so soft on him.
‘Well, it’s- Ooh you’re warm!’ Her other hand reached up to cup his cheek and Arthur could almost feel his mind empty of all thoughts. She smiled bashfully. ‘Sorry, this is rather forward of me, isn’t it? You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No!’ his brain wheezed. ‘Kiss her, you idiot. Kiss her and love her and never let her go!’ Arthur nervously cleared his throat. ‘Uh… no… it’s fine.’
‘Good, thank you. It’s freezing in here. And thank you for the clothes.’ Her pretty grey eyes were looking up into his and he clenched his hands tightly into fists, so he would resist the urge to place them on her hips and pull her close. But she was so close, her lips, her cheeks with a few freckles covering the smooth skin, her scent, all so Charlotte. Maybe this was a good time for it. They would travel back to Charlotte’s cabin after and it would be a quick journey, so if she was displeased by him kissing her, he could at least slink off to lick his wounds.
It took him a moment to realise that her hand had trailed down his cheek to his neck. He glanced back at her. She was breathing rapidly and he saw a flush creep up her cheeks. She almost looked like she might faint and he worriedly placed a hand on her back. For all she said she was cold, he could feel the warmth of her through the shirt.
‘Yer alright?’ he asked.
She gave a small nod, then bit her lip and worried it. He pressed his nails into the palm of his hand. ‘Don’t think of anything. Don’t think of how she looks beautiful and how much you want to kiss her and bite that lower lip yourself,’ he ordered himself.
He only heard her gasp and he focused his attention on her again. ‘Charlotte-?’ was all he managed to say, and she suddenly grabbed hold of his jacket, tugged his head down and kissed him. He let out a small yelp of surprise and felt her draw back. But by now his heart was racing, and he eagerly placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close. He trailed a hand up her back, tucked her close to him and felt her arms wrap around his shoulders. She smelt of earth and rain and wild thyme. The dampness of her hair was pressed against his chest, but he didn’t care a bit. Outside the rain beat heavily against the ground, but in here there was nothing else but himself and Charlotte. Her mouth was warm and soft under his, and he didn’t want to stop kissing her, loving her, never letting her go.