The Countess' Lucky Charm by A. M. Westerling

immobile, his mouth a thin line, his eyes evasive. The relief that had made her light-hearted earlier today dissipated in a “poof”. She frowned. It would seem she must maintain the role of his wife, whether she liked it or not.
    “Very well.” She felt lightheaded as she said it. The sham marriage continued. The question was, would she be able to convince herself her growing love for him was a sham as well?
    “It’s not an easy journey,” he warned her. “There are no roads. No inns. None of the creature comforts of civilization.”
    “Then why should I go with you? I already said I could stay here. In Montreal.”
    “Out of the question, Simone. Your talents will only find you swinging from the gallows.” He scowled. “You wouldn’t evade capture here. Montreal is simply too small a city for you to hide. And if I could remind you.” He slanted a serious glance her way. “Unmarried ladies of quality are never without a chaperone.”
    The serious look on his face worried her. She hadn’t given much thought to the journey itself and what lay in store for her.
    “Tell me about the North West Company,” she said suddenly. “I should like to know more about it.”
    “It’s a fur trading company. I’ve agreed to be a wintering partner at Stuart Lake Outpost. It’s a relatively new fort, in an area still rich with beaver. However, it is isolated.” Enthusiasm coloured his words; apparently, Temple Wellington’s new position excited him.
    “Perhaps I could start an ale house there.” She ignored the surprised look on his face and nodded. “You’ve said you’re going to New Caledonia to find your fortune. Well, couldn’t I find mine there?”
    Yes, that would make worthwhile any difficulties encountered on the trip. Once in New Caledonia, she could help him with the map to his package and then they could go their separate ways, she to run her ale house and he to work in the fur trade.
    Best of all, she need not return to London any time soon.
    An animated Simone jumped to her feet to pirouette in front of him. Her skirt lifted with the motion, exposing two shapely calves before it fell into place again.
    Temple licked his suddenly dry lips and ignored the pounding heat of his arousal. How would he keep his mind off her delectable attributes? The six weeks in her company on board the Annabelle had been one thing, but the trip ahead loomed long and arduous.
    “It won’t be easy, Simone. We’ll be travelling by canoe and horseback and sleeping under the stars for months.” Bloody hell, it also wouldn’t be easy trying to keep intact his heart from the lovely “Lady Wellington”.
    He groaned inwardly. His idea to continue the sham perhaps wasn’t the wisest for his peace of mind, however he couldn’t renege now.
    What in blazes had he agreed to?
     
    * * *
     
    Simone held herself erect on the edge of Stuart Lake and fought the disappointment threatening to burst forth in a torrent of tears.
    This was it? Stuart Lake Outpost? The administrative centre of the Northwest Company in New Caledonia? The perfect place for her ale house?
    The bustling village she had expected hadn’t materialized. Instead, situated on the shores of a vast lake, another wooden palisade greeted her. Inside, several small houses, a store and a warehouse.
    She stripped off her boots, throwing them aside to let her bare feet sink into the tiny line of sand and gravel that passed for a beach. Cold and crystalline clear, the water lapped at her toes, refreshing them after being jammed into boots night and day.
    She leaned down to splash some water on her face then lifted her gaze to look ahead over the shimmering, tranquil water, surrounded by verdant mountains cascading into its very shores. So vast the lake, the mountains at the far end were misty and indistinct.
    Oy , there was a lot of water in this country. The roads of the fur traders, she had been told, rivers and such being much easier to navigate than fighting through