At last, Papa appeared at their table again. His gaze and tone stayed relaxed as he addressed Damien. “Would you like to come up and join me as we share the story of the chalices?”
As Damien rose and followed her father toward the frontof the room, Charlotte’s chest tightened. She shouldn’t be nervous for him. He was a grown man, after all. Perhaps a bit of her unrest stemmed from the part she’d played in damaging Laurent’s chalice.
Yet without that accident, she would never have gone out seeking an artisan for the repairs. She never would have met Damien. Never would have begged him to come back to the village with her.
God’s hand had woven their paths seamlessly, beginning with their ancestors and all the way to this present day. What would He do in their future?
As her father introduced Damien to the crowd, she couldn’t have been prouder of both men. Damien stood tall and broad-shouldered, his appearance causing a swell in her chest as it always did. Papa’s shoulders stooped more, but he still possessed that bearing that drew others to him—a natural leader.
It was Damien who told the story of his great-great-grandfather Pierre Curtois, brother to Louis, the man who led the pilgrims to discover Laurent. When Louis and his group set off for the west to find a quieter place to live, far from the unrest of New France, the chalices they had been gifted were separated, as were the brothers.
Now, the collection was complete again, the offspring reunited. Damien was the last of his line, as far as he knew. But Louis’s blood ran in many a family in Laurent, as the generations married among each other.
By the time he finished the tale and the chalices were lifted for display, the room full of villagers had turned almost unruly with their cheers. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and Papa escorted Damien back to their table. Embarrassment marked his handsome features when he met her gaze,and he slipped into his seat beside her without a word. But when his hand found hers, his fingers weaving between her own, she settled against the warmth of his arm.
At last, she could allow herself to enjoy the festivities, the pleasure of friends and family, content beside the man she loved.
Epilogue
Charlotte lifted her gaze from the fur she was scraping as a familiar whistle sounded—the high-low-high-low-low tones that signaled one of Laurent’s own approached the gate in peace. That was Damien’s tone, she was almost certain of it. Three hunters had also gone out that morning, but he’d left the day before to check his trap lines and planned to be out only one night.
She dipped her hands in the bucket of wash water she’d placed by the stoop, frigid though it was in the icy air. Perhaps she should remain with her work and wait for Damien to enter the gate and come to her. Or at the very least, make sure this newcomer was him and not the hunting party.
But she knew that whistle, and the excitement within her wouldn’t wait.
She started toward the gate, wiping her wet hands on her skirt. With each step, her stride grew faster. Longer. With the weak winter sun shining this afternoon, several otherwomen also worked outside their doors. She didn’t slow to call greetings, just kept her focus on the opening in the wall.
There. That familiar outline, those broad shoulders, the brindle color of his coat, even the way he walked in his snowshoes. Her heart leapt and her feet shifted into a run to match her pulse.
She closed the last ten strides between them as Damien led Gulliver through the gate, then turned to her. His white teeth flashed in a grin as he strode forward and swept her into the hug she’d been longing for all day.
He wrapped her tight, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. “My Charlotte.”
She clung to him as he held her. Thankfully, he seemed reluctant to release her. She breathed in the scent of him that he always carried when he came in from his traps—something wild and manly, fully unique to him.
Too soon, his arms around her loosened and he pulled back, moving his hands up to cradle her face. Her hair must have been a mess, for he smoothed strands back from her cheeks, then kept his hands cupped there. She drank him in, the same way his gaze roamed over her.
“I can’t do these overnight trips anymore. I miss you too much.”
As much as she loved those words, she had to fight the urge to reach up and grab his coat, then pull his mouth down for a kiss. Why did he hold back?
Perhaps he was concerned about the onlookers, though their nearest audience worked thirty strides away. Besides, everyone knew they were courting. The last four months, Damien had been a permanent fixture in the midst of their family, sleeping on an extra cot in Uncle Carter’s apartment,but taking most of his meals in the Durand home, just as her uncle did.
He still studied her, as though he’d not seen her face in weeks, maybe months. Perhaps she really should initiate the kiss.
But before she could act, he lowered his hands from her cheeks and ran them down her arms to take her fingers in his. As he lifted them in his own gloved hands, pressing a kiss to the back of one hand, then the other, she squeezed his fingers. Her skin was bright red from working in the cold without gloves, certainly not a flattering appearance. But at least he wasn’t looking at her hands. His gaze stayed locked on her face.
“Charlotte, this may be too soon, but I’ve never been good with patience. We can wait as long as you wish, but say you’ll marry me. Please. You’re the one who completes me. God’s perfect match for me. And being apart from you is far too hard.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, her heart brimming with so much emotion she couldn’t find the words at first. She’d hoped this was coming. Courtship was intended to grow toward marriage, after all. But hearing the words on Damien’s lips ... the fulfillment of what she’d been longing for...
She moved her hands to his chest, pressing them flat against his coat, his fingers still wrapped around hers. She needed that strong contact as she met his gaze. “I would be honored to marry you. The way God brought our paths together, the certainty in my spirit as I pray for you—for us—I don’t doubt for a minute you’re the man He planned for me. He’s brought us together through one miracle after another, and I can’t wait to see what else is in store. I’ll go with you wherever you want.”
Those beautiful creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as his mouth widened in a smile that lit her all the way through. “Good. You name the day, and I’ll have a home ready for us. If you want to go anywhere else at any time, just let me know.”
A home ready?They’d not talked about where they might live. In truth, this was the first time they’d spoken of marriage at all. Did he plan to set her up in a cabin somewhere as he’d said other trappers built, either for their belongings or their women?
She softened her words with a smile that came so easily. “I don’t want us to be separated, Damien. I’ll go where you go, I’ll help with your traps and your skins and whatever else you need. I don’t want to be left behind.”
