Silver Tears

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  A few hours earlier Alice would have scoffed at such a suggestion, but now it seemed to make sense. “And if he doesn’t live?” she asked quietly.

  Gunn shrugged. “If you’re in the market for a husband, you’ve come to the right place. Any man among those you saw out there would take you as his wife in a second.”

  Alice stared at him, unbelieving. “Just like that?” she asked, snapping her fingers. “I’m simply to go out there, look them over, and say, ‘I’ll take this one. Wrap him for me, please.’”

  Gunn’s laughter boomed in the room.

  “I don’t see anything funny about the situation, Mr. Gunn. Why, I’d as soon marry you as any of those ruffians we saw earlier.”

  This time he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked her over again, making Alice feel like a slave on the block. He cocked his head to one side, smiled, and nodded. “Done, dear lady! I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  Alice’s mouth fell open. For several moments she couldn’t find her voice. When she did speak at last, the words came out choked and garbled. “You? I’d never… not in a hundred, not in a million years. Lord Geoffrey didn’t know what he was… You? Gunn, might I remind you that you already have a wife?”

  He looked at her, puzzled, then laughed as he remembered his earlier remark to Pegeen. There was a pretty woman in his cabin all right, but not by his doing. “No, you misunderstood. I said I have a woman already. There’s a vast difference.”

  Alice swallowed hard, trying not to show her embarrassment.

  “Ah, now I’ve gone and made you blush,” Gunn said with a smile. “Forgive me, Alice.”

  “Lady Alice to you!” She turned away quickly, trying to avoid his gaze.

  “All right, for now, but once we’re wed I’ll have to call you something else.” He tilted his head to one side, musing aloud, “Perhaps Mrs. Gunn or Goodwife Gunn or… no, I like just plain Alice.”

  “I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself,” Alice said, fuming. “There’s no way in hell I’d ever marry you! I can’t help what my husband wanted.” Alice covered her mouth quickly. The words had simply slipped out. How could she have let that happen?

  Gunn’s shaggy eyebrows rose and he leaned closer. “What’s that you say, Lady Alice? Maybe you haven’t told me the whole truth about your husband’s letter?”

  Pegeen interrupted before Alice could reply. “Mum, I’ve burned all the cones. I’ll be going out now to fetch some more.”

  A short time earlier Alice had longed for privacy, but now she desperately wanted the protection of Pegeen’s presence. Before she could stop her, however, the girl was out the door.

  “That’s better,” Gunn said, moving closer to Alice. “We can discuss our plans seriously now that we’re alone.”

  “We have no plans that I’m aware of.”

  He smiled and reached toward her, fingering the edge of her cloak. “Oh, I think we do. It’s a husband’s right to pick his wife’s lovers or the man she’ll wed after his death.”

  Alice blushed at his words, remembering the never-ending string of passionate young men Lord Geoffrey had paraded before her during their marriage. He had urged her to take a lover who could fill the void in her life. She had refused. She would also refuse his wishes this time, she vowed silently.

  “A man needs a wife in this wild country,” Gunn told her, his voice turning as smooth and rich as aged brandy. “It’s a cold, hard life for those of us who are alone. It takes a woman’s gentling hand to keep us from turning heathen out here in the forest. Look at me, Alice.” Gunn stood and spread his arms wide before her. “Would you believe, seeing me like this, that I used to be quite the dandy back in England? But who’s to shave and bathe for, to wear fine clothes for in this place?” He moved closer, bending down to look directly into her eyes, his own a deep, smoldering green. “Who’s to court and woo?” He touched her chin with one finger. “Who’s to cuddle and kiss?”

  Alice wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next moment she was locked in his embrace. His mouth came down on hers, kissing her firmly, but gently. Still holding her with one arm, he slipped the cloak from her shoulders. His hands moved up her arms to the bare flesh of her throat. His stroking sent little quivers down her spine. Bright lights seemed to glow behind her closed lids. She wanted to struggle against him, but the pressure of his big, hard body against hers and his strong arms around her made Alice feel safe for the first time in so long.

  Finally he released her. “There,” he said quietly, “you see what I mean. There’s something about a kiss that a man—or a woman—can’t live without. It’s a sort of magic that makes everything right. If you’ve no one to share it with”—he shook his head sadly—“then life’s just not the same.”

  Alice wiped the back of her hand across her mouth gently. “Is that the way you savages treat ladies?”

  He laughed. “If you mean Indian savages, no. It takes a proper Scottish savage to do it right. The Abenaki never kiss their women.”

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  Gunn reached for her once more. “Oh, I think I should have. In fact, I think I will again.”

  Alice’s protest died on her lips as Gunn’s mouth came down the second time. This kiss was more demanding. His tongue smoothed over her puffy lips. Surprised by the intimate contact, she opened her mouth to protest—exactly what he wanted her to do. An instant later she felt his penetration. She stiffened at first, but soon her defenses melted away. Her blood warmed and her heart raced. Her breasts ached and her thighs felt hot. What was this great heathen doing to her? she wondered. She’d never felt this way before in her life. But then, her husband had never kissed her this way.

  “Oh, mum, I beg your pardon!” Pegeen’s voice, shrill with surprise, broke the spell.

  Alice twisted her head away and pushed out of Gunn’s arms. She felt her face flame. “This isn’t what you think, Peg.”

  Pegeen grinned broadly at her mistress. “Oh, serving girls don’t think, mum. That’s the beauty of us.”

  Alice turned back just in time to see Gunn wink at the girl. Her fury raged again. “I think you’d best leave now, Mr. Gunn.”

  He leaned down and gave Alice a quick peck on the cheek. “You can call me Chris now that we’re going to be married.”

  As he ducked out the door, Alice picked up a tin cup from the table and threw it at him, but it hit the wall and clattered harmlessly to the dirt floor.

  Once he was gone, Pegeen threw herself on her mistress with a strangling hug. “Oh, mum, I’m so happy for you! Being in love must be right wonderful.”

  Alice pulled the girl off her and said, “There’s nothing to be happy about, and love certainly has no part of this situation. Now go out to the well and fetch some water, then you can make our beds. I’m too tired even to think of supper.”

  Pegeen took her time chatting at the well, but a short while later both of them went to bed. While Peg’s snores soon filled the room, Alice tossed and turned on her hard cot. Every time she closed her lids, she saw Chris Gunn’s evergreen eyes shining at her. She could still feel his mouth on hers, his arms holding her close. The ache that had begun with his first kiss still throbbed deep inside her.

  Finally she gave up trying to sleep. Pulling her warm cloak over her gown, she threw more wood on the fire and sat down at the table to think things through.

  Chris Gunn, meanwhile, joined a group of his friends in the common room at the main barracks. They were celebrating their victory over the Flemish pirates, though Gunn was simply trying to delay his return to his cabin in the forest beyond the fort. He hadn’t yet figured out what to do with the young Indian maid who had moved in on him two days before.

  He shared several tankards of ale with his cronies, but did little talking. He had too much on his mind to pay close attention to his surroundings. Crowding his thoughts was a certain blue-eyed, golden-haired, honey-lipped Eng
lishwoman. He had half a mind to storm back into her cabin and steal her away in the middle of the night. The Indians often kidnapped their brides. Why shouldn’t he?

  “Because I’m too damned civilized,” he muttered under his breath.

  A strong hand clapped down on his shoulder. “It’s a bad sign, my friend, when a man starts talking to himself.”

  Gunn turned quickly to find Will Phips grinning at him. Sir William Phips, he corrected himself. It was still hard for Gunn to grasp it: this youngest son out of a backwoods brood of twenty-six, born and bred in Wiscasset, Maine, who had taught himself to read and write and build ships, had married a wealthy widow, then promptly left for the Indies in search of treasure and had actually found enough Spanish silver and gold to earn a knighthood from King James.

  “Will, you old sonuvabitch! What are you doing back at the fort? I thought you were still in Boston, enjoying the comforts of home and wife.”

  “Mary wept her heart out when I decided to leave early, but you can’t keep a Maine man out of the woods for long. I hear I missed some excitement this afternoon. Pirates, eh? And pretty ladies besides.”

  Chris frowned and murmured, “One pretty lady and her servant—not a bad piece either, mind you.”

  “Ah, yes, old Lord Geoffrey’s widow. Her serving girl told the whole sad tale to the men. Her predicament’s the talk of the fort already. And you figure to ease Lady Alice’s pain, is that it?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “Any man is who’s decided it’s time,” Phips said with a laugh.

  Gunn feigned innocence. “Time for what?”

  “Settling down, taking a wife, raising a family. I’ve seen all the signs, Gunn. You’re a prime target for matrimony.”

  Chris avoided looking the other man in the eye. “So you say. You just want all your friends married off since you and Mary tied the knot. You’re jealous as hell of my freedom, that’s all.”

  Phips draped an arm around Gunn’s broad shoulders. “Chris, Chris, when are you going to own up to the truth? I’ve seen the way you act when you’re at my house in Boston. You’re a different man. Talk about jealousy—you’re the one with envy painted all over your face. Admit it, you’d give your right arm for a woman half as fine as Mary Hull.”

  Gunn shook his head and took another swig of ale before he spoke. “Do you know how damn long it’s been since I held a blushing, sweet-smelling Englishwoman in my arms and kissed her rosy lips?”

  Phips’s laughter roared through the room. Then he leaned down and whispered, “About an hour, I’d say, if the fort gossips who loiter around the well can be trusted.”

  Gunn scowled at his friend. “Damn, a man can’t have any privacy in this place.”

  “Not with that busybody of an Irish maid about. She spread the word the minute you left Lady Alice.”

  “I should have known,” Gunn said. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you going to marry her?” Phips pried.

  “You think she’d have me—an Indian scout and backwoods trapper?” He shook his big head furiously. “No! She’ll go down to Boston and find herself some city man with a fine house and a position in society. Or if her sea captain recovers, she’ll likely become his bride and sail back to England where she belongs.”

  “If she belongs back in England, why did her late husband send her here, Chris?”

  Gunn squinted hard at the man, then accused, “You’ve paid little Pegeen to spy on us. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “It took no pay, I assure you. The girl spreads her tales free of charge,” Phips answered. “Besides, you know the very walls of this fort have ears when there are women about. Why, there’s not a man in this room who wouldn’t sell his soul for those kisses you stole from Lady Alice this evening.”

  Gunn laughed, feeling quite pleased with himself suddenly. Already the men at the fort thought he was bedding the Indian girl. Now they figured he had two women all his own. He couldn’t help feeling just a bit pleased with himself. “Damn right, but none of the others had the nerve to meet that feisty lady head-on.”

  “You did well for a start, my friend.” Phips nodded. “Now the question is, do you have the nerve to follow through with what you’ve begun?”

  Gunn stared down into his empty tankard, trying to think of an answer.

  “Well, what say you, lad?” Phips prompted.

  Gunn rose. “I say it’s high time I was getting home.”

  William Phips shook his head. “Home? Or back to your pretty little Indian maid, Ishani?”

  Chris flashed the other man a broad smile. “They’re one and the same, my friend. Ishani will be more than willing to take the ache out of my gut and this craziness out of my head.”

  “You don’t think Lady Alice could do that?”

  “I don’t think Lady Alice would do that,” Gunn replied sadly.

  “You won’t know until you give her a chance.”

  “You mean steal her?” Gunn replied.

  “Rumor has it that’s how you got Ishani from her tribe.”

  “Rumors aren’t always true,” Gunn muttered under his breath, frowning. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Will. Ishani ran away from her people so she wouldn’t have to marry Scarappi. She’s scared to death of that crazy savage and with good cause. He’s killed two wives already. The problem is, now she’s intent on being my squaw. So far, I’ve managed to hold her off, but she’s a mighty determined young thing.”

  Phips arched a brow. “Really? What are you going to do about it?”

  “Damned if I know what to do about either Ishani or Alice.” Gunn shook his head, then glanced at Will. “Any ideas?”

  “Simple, my friend. Send Ishani home and steal Alice.”

  Gunn straightened up to full height, towering over Phips, and boomed, “My dear sir, not being an Englishman, but born and bred in these backwoods of Maine, you couldn’t possibly understand, but a gentleman does not steal an English noblewoman. It simply isn’t done.”

  Phips laughed. “Have it your way, my boy. However, it’s been my experience that a man takes what he wants or someone else will have it before he gets there. Think about it, Christopher.”

  Gunn did think about it, seriously, if a bit drunkenly. As he stumbled out of the common room into the cold night air, his head cleared. Will Phips was right. He wanted Alice Balfour, he would have her. This very night! He headed toward her room.

  Alice sat at her table, staring into the fire, still thinking over her dilemma. Granted, she was in a bad situation—widowed, in a foreign land, among strangers, and all men at that. She’d certainly succumbed to Gunn’s dubious charms fast enough. Still, to consider marrying such a man seemed sheer folly, even if he was the one her husband had picked for her. And there was the captain’s proposal still to be considered. He seemed a much more sensible choice.

  Suddenly she had an idea—a crazy idea, but she had to do something. Pulling on her fur-lined cape, she slipped silently out of the room. After first glancing about to make sure no one saw her, she hurried across the yard. No one stood guard to stop her from entering the infirmary. Except for muffled groans, the semidark room was quiet. Quickly she went to the cot where Jonathan Hargrave lay sleeping.

  Kneeling down, she rested her palm on his forehead. He was still hot, but not burning with fever. She leaned close, hoping not to disturb the others in the crowded room.

  “Captain Hargrave,” she whispered. “Jonathan? It’s Lady Alice.”

  His eyes flickered open and he stared up at her, trying to focus. “Alice?” came his raspy voice. “Lady Alice, is that you?”

  “Yes, I came to see how you are,” she said softly.

  “I’ll be as good as new…”

  Alice couldn’t let him finish. If she did, she’d lose her nerve, and she had to put him to the test. She had to find out if any man could stir her as Gunn had earlier. Bending over the injured captain, she
touched her lips to his. He uttered a sound of surprise, but soon relaxed, moving his mouth against hers. Alice continued her experiment, holding the kiss, waiting to feel something… anything.

  Occupied as she was, she didn’t hear the door to the room open. She had no idea that her intimacy with Jonathan Hargrave was being closely observed. Christopher Gunn had seen her slip out as he approached her door. Curious about her midnight errand, he’d followed her. Now he stood in the shadows, feeling his gut twist as he watched her showering kisses on the injured captain. Unable to bear the sight of Alice and Hargrave a minute longer, he eased silently out of the room.

  What a fool he’d been! The ale had obviously fogged his thinking. Steal a bride, indeed. Another man’s bride, at that! Hargrave would recover and Lady Alice would have her new husband. So much for his dreams of a pale, sweet-smelling, English wife to share his bed and his future.

  Alice arose with a disheartened sigh. She stared down. Jonathan Hargrave’s eyes were shining more than fever-bright. A smile curved his lips.

  “Lady Alice?” he murmured, his voice filled with expectation.

  How could she tell him that her kisses had been a mere experiment, one that had failed miserably?

  “Go back to sleep, Captain.” She turned and fled.

  Her cheeks burned as she ran through the cold, dark night. One quickening of her pulses, one sign of weakness in her legs, one quiver, one ache deep inside—was that so much to ask? That’s all she’d wanted from the captain’s kisses. But she’d felt nothing. Oh, her face felt hot all right, but only with embarrassment. What must the man think of her?

  Now, unfortunately, she had her answer to the question that had been gnawing at her all evening. Just any man’s kiss could not enflame her. It was Christopher Gunn’s embrace she longed for whether she’d been willing to admit it to herself or not.