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“Look, I have got a cloak too,” he cajoled, and nudged the pile of clothes with his knee.
“How?” she demanded. “Just tell me that? You have stolen them, haven’t you?” She knew that she sounded like a fishwife, but simply refused to wear the clothing he had brought back with him until she knew a bit more about where it had come from.
“I left enough behind to recompense the owner,” he defended. “We still have enough left to ensure that we can eat throughout the rest of the journey. As long as we don’t go into any taverns and eat like kings, we should be able to survive. We will still have enough money left for another day’s worth of food, just in case anything goes wrong and we are delayed in getting to the safe house.”
“I can’t ride through the country wearing men’s breeches. I am going to attract attention, and that is the last thing we need right now,” she argued.
She fought the urge to bang her head against the ground in frustration at her inability to get him to understand that she was not going to wear the clothes he had brought for her to change into. Their discord had been temporarily halted while their appetites appeased but, now that the remainder of the food had been carefully tucked away in their cloak pockets, they were back to discussing her clothing.
“I am a fairly liberal minded person. I grew up with two brothers. Now, I am not averse to trying most things, but I absolutely, simply, completely, refuse to wear gentlemen’s breeches,” she declared firmly, and crossed her arms in a defiant pose for emphasis.
Charlie lifted the pile of clothing and held them out to her. “I have brought you a cloak too. Not only will you not draw attention to yourself by scandalously riding through villages flashing those gorgeous legs of yours, but you will be warmer with the cloak, and considerably more comfortable riding without the skirts,” he reasoned - not for the first time. “The jailers are looking for a man and a woman. If you change, and I wear a cloak, there are effectively two men riding together. People won’t notice us. They will remember a woman who was flashing her legs and riding astride though.”
He stared pointedly at her legs hidden beneath the folds of her skirts.
She took the clothes off him, and disappeared into the trees.
It felt strange to draw the breeches over her legs. She had seen her brothers in long trousers on many occasions and, of course, many men wearing breeches, but had never really thought anything of it before. Now that she too was wearing them, she wished she could put her dress back on.
The course material against the smooth, tender flesh of her inner thighs felt harsh and unfamiliar. This was by far the most uncomfortable thing she could do. She looked down at the sight of her long legs so clearly displayed for the world to see, and sighed in dismay.
How on earth Charlie thought she might convince anyone she was man was anyone’s guess.
Still, he is right about being noticed, she thought as she tugged on the surprisingly snug boots, and drew the coarse cotton shirt over her head.
There was nothing she could do about her breasts; they had to remain within the tight confines of her corset. She was awkwardly aware of the snug fit of her shirt as it pressed against the lush mounds God had graced her with. It was almost a relief when she drew the cloak around her to hide her blushes. She could only hope and pray that they didn’t need to stop off at a tavern, and she would be required to take the wretched thing off.
As far as she was concerned, nobody; neither man, woman or child, was going to see her thus, without a cloak.
With that thought firmly rooted in her mind, she nodded to nobody in particular and stomped out of the clearing with the folds of the cloak held closed with determined fingers. Her dress was tucked under her elbow but, as she walked toward him, Charlie was already shaking his head.
“I am afraid that has to stay,” he nodded to her dress.
“I am not leaving my shawl,” she argued. “It is my warmest one.”
“I will buy you three new shawls once this is over. It cannot come with us because we cannot be caught with anything incriminating on us. If they hold up the shawl to their ‘witnesses’, it could be recognised. As it is, with this hat tugged over here like this -,” he drew a large brimmed hat over her head. “This cloak over here covering, well, practically all of you, nobody is going to suspect a thing.”
He tugged his own hat on, and stood back to admire his handiwork. He groaned in disbelief. She was dressed up like a highwayman, but without a tricorn, and had numerous folds of clothing covering her from the top of her gorgeous head to the tips of her heavy boots, yet she still managed to look teasingly seductive.
He coughed uncomfortably and turned toward his horse before he did something that would shock them both.
As he led her horse toward her, he tried to block out all thoughts of just how soft the field looked, and how wonderful it would be to spend the afternoon rolling around in it with her. When his body began to respond to the images that flashed through his mind, he handed her the reins, and lingered long enough to help her into her saddle, before he mounted his own horse in one swift motion and wheeled it in the direction of the safe house.
“Let’s go,” he growled.
“Is everything alright?” she asked when she saw the dark frown on his face.
Had she said something to annoy him? The swiftness of the change within him was a little alarming given that, as far as she could see, they were the only people for miles around, and everything had been fine moments earlier.
“I am fine,” he assured her without meeting her gaze.
A rather stilted silence settled between them as they rode side by side through the fields. He daren’t look at her for fear of teasing his already tortured flesh; and she daren’t speak to him in case she angered him even more.
When he couldn’t stand the tension a moment longer, he looked at her. She appeared to be enjoying the sunshine and warmth of the day, and was completely at ease with her new persona. It was a little unnerving to note just how quickly, and how well, she had adapted to the new disguise, and how hot and bothered it made him. He rather suspected that he was creating problems for himself because he wanted to peel away the layers to get to the woman beneath. Now, as a result of his own ingenuity, he faced a new struggle keep his mind on anything other than the tantalising way the cloak folds had eased apart, and flashed him a teasing glance of the full length of one extremely curvy, and very long leg.
“We really do need to talk when we get to Afferley,” Charlie declared, calmly but firmly.
“Oh?” Hetty lifted a brow, and waited.
