Silver Tears

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  Alice covered his hand with hers. “Darling, relax,” she whispered. “We’ve only a few hours left to wait.”

  He tried to smile at her, but his expression was not at all reassuring. “Bridegrooms are allowed to be nervous.”

  “Nervous is one thing,” she said. “Chris, my love, you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

  “I just want it done,” he told her. “I want us to be together.”

  Several guests overheard the remark and smiled, exchanging knowing glances. Christopher Gunn was not a patient man when it came to love and women—they all knew that.

  Gunn had not pressed Alice for intimate favors since the night of their bundling. Kisses, embraces, an occasional stroke of her breasts were the only mild intimacies he had allowed himself. He had kept a tight rein on his passions, vowing to wait until they were married to take his bride. In the wilds of Maine any woman had seemed fair game. But this was civilized Boston and Alice was not just any woman. He could and would wait until she was his bride, he kept telling himself. He’d done well. He could be proud of himself. Now only hours remained until they would…

  “Well, Chris, aren’t you going to kiss your intended good night?”

  The dinner guests had all left. Mary and Will were in bed. Gunn and Alice stood outside her bedroom door, about to go to their separate rooms for the last time in their lives, Alice thought.

  “I don’t want to say good night, Alice.” Gunn’s voice sounded desperate. All his solemn promises dissolved in that instant. When he looked into Alice’s love-filled eyes, he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to love her… now.

  “It’s late,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “We both need our sleep for tomorrow, for tomorrow night, darling.”

  “Why tomorrow night?” he implored. “Why should we wait, Alice?”

  She stepped away from him, smiling, thinking he was joking. “Because,” she answered.

  “Tonight,” he pleaded. “Let me come to you now.”

  He slipped one arm around her, drawing her close. The gown she wore was rich wine-colored satin. The bodice was cut low with a froth of cream lace barely hiding her breasts from his hungry sight. His hand came up to touch the stiff edges of the lace, brushing it aside to stroke her warm flesh.

  Alice felt his touch a thousand times over. How she longed to melt into his arms, to beg him to carry her to her bed and do as he would with her aching body. But…

  “No, Chris, Mary and Will might hear us,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He bent down to kiss her breast. His tongue smoothed over her trembling flesh. Another tug at the lace exposed one shell-pink nipple, which he quickly covered with his mouth.

  Alice lay back against his arm, her eyes closed, her senses whirling. She forgot to worry about their hosts down the hall. Chris was so right. Why should they wait? They’d put off their needs for so long. In only hours they would be one. But still they would not be together until after the ceremony, after the feasting, after the dancing. A long day lay before them. How much better it would be to enjoy this night that was theirs alone to share. Her mind numbed as her senses took over. She could no longer deny her own desires. She wanted Chris every bit as much as he wanted her.

  Slipping her arms around his neck, she smiled up into his intense, green eyes. “Yes, my darling. Oh, yes!”

  Alice felt his lips cover hers as he drew her close, holding her tight to his chest with one strong arm, his fingers caressing her breast even as his tongue stroked hers. She lay weak and helpless against him, aware only of his nearness and her own need. She heard the click of the latch as Chris opened her door with his free hand. He leaned down, ready to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the waiting bed.

  “My word, are you two still tarrying over your goodnights?” Will Phips’s voice in the dark hallway tarnished the magic.

  Alice’s eyes shot open to see Sir William, clad in his nightshirt and dressing gown, coming toward them. Guiltily she took a step away from Chris, but still she could feel the tension in his whole body.

  “I was just going into my room,” she said, avoiding Phips’s curious gaze.

  “We both were,” Gunn boomed, daring Phips with his tone to object.

  Sir William looked startled, then laughed. “Ah, Chris my boy, I don’t think so. Were it up to me, you’d have my blessing. But Mary would skin us both alive. Good night, Alice. I’ll see your overanxious groom safely to his own bed.”

  What could Alice say or do? Nothing. Casting one final, longing glance up at Chris, she whispered, “Tomorrow, darling.” Then she slipped into her bedroom and closed the door softly behind her.

  Gunn stamped past Phips without a word, his face black with rage. When he reached his own room down the hall, he went in and slammed the door loud enough to wake the dead.

  Neither Alice nor Chris slept more than a wink that night. The Phipses, too, lay awake, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps in the hallway. But neither bride nor groom ventured forth until the sun rose on their wedding day.

  Alice was secretly glad the next morning that Will Phips had caught them the night before because she truly awoke with all the excitement and blushing anticipation of a new bride. Mary herself brought Alice’s breakfast to her room.

  “The men are downstairs,” Mary told her young friend. “It wouldn’t do for your intended to see you until the moment of the ceremony. So you’ll stay here until it’s time for my Will to escort you down to the front parlor.”

  Alice hugged her pillow, then buried her face in its softness and screamed—a wonderful, happy, delirious shriek of excitement. “Oh, Mary, how can I wait till noon? I feel as if I’m about to fly apart. I’m so happy I can’t contain it. What’s going to become of me? It can’t be healthy for a woman to be this much in love.”

  Mary sat down on the bed beside Alice and took her into her arms. “My dear sweet child, it would be unhealthy if you didn’t feel this way. You are a lucky woman to be marrying a man whom you actually love. You know most girls are forced to wed men their parents have chosen. My first husband was hand-picked by my father. In fact, they were partners in the shipbuilding business. Although I came to respect him greatly, he was years older than I, and there was never really any love in my life. Not until Will came along. I was almost twice your age when we married, but I felt like a bride for the first time.” She paused and giggled like a girl. “He still makes me feel like a bride. I can only wish you and Christopher as much happiness as Will and I have shared.”

  Alice’s face was glowing by the time Mary fell silent. “We will be happy. I know we will!”

  Alice’s expression clouded suddenly.

  “What’s wrong, my dear?”

  “It’s what you just said about feeling like a bride for the first time when you married Will.” Alice paused and forced herself to look directly into Mary’s kind eyes. “You see, I am truly about to be a bride for the first time.”

  Silence followed Alice’s confession.

  “You mean… ?” Mary began.

  Alice nodded and clutched the other woman’s hands. “Please, Mary, tell me what I should know.”

  The morning went much faster for the women upstairs than for the brooding men below. Will was not as talented as his wife at calming prenuptial jitters, and Gunn had a king-size case. The front room and the dining room were off-limits while the ladies who’d offered their help decked out the premises with flowers and greenery for the wedding and reception to follow. So Will held Chris captive in the back parlor, a small cozy room with shelves of leather-bound books, comfortable chairs, a pipe rack, and a decanter of fine old brandy.

  Chris noticed none of these comforts as he paced back and forth, unable to check his motion.

  “Have a tot, won’t you, Gunn?” Will forced a glass into his friend’s hand as he passed. “That’s better. Maybe it will ease your nerves. Why must bridegrooms always be so jittery before the ceremony? There’
s nothing to it, I assure you. A few mumbled replies, and you’ll be a married man. I promise you, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

  Gunn downed the brandy, then rounded on his friend. “It’s not the ceremony that’s got me on edge. It’s something else.”

  Will chuckled. “You mean what didn’t happen because I stopped it.”

  “No. That’s not what I mean, but you had no damn business interfering in my plans.”

  “See here, Gunn, what happens under my roof is very definitely my business. Besides, I had my orders from Mary. What do you think I was doing in the hallway at that hour in the first place? She hadn’t heard Alice’s door close and she sent me to investigate. As I told you last night, had it been up to me, I’d have given you both my blessing and gone quietly back to bed. I consider all this waiting and anticipating a lot of bunk and bother. What if the world comes to an end at eleven-thirty this morning? No wedding, no bedding! Whereas, if the important part had been taken care of last night, we wouldn’t have to worry about doomsday, would we?”

  “My feelings precisely,” Gunn agreed. “But that’s not really what’s eating at me, Will. It’s spring now. You know what always happens as soon as the thaw comes. The Abenaki will be on the move, headed back to the coast. There’s always trouble this time of year.”

  Phips shrugged. “What does it matter? You’re down here away from all that. Let the fort commandant worry about things for a change. You’ve done more than your share dealing with Castin and his savages. Besides, we haven’t heard the slightest rumblings from up north yet. That’s a good sign. Usually, bad news is rampant by this time of year.”

  “Which only means it could come at any time. And when it does, I’ll have to go.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Phips protested. “You’ll stay right here in Boston where you belong, with your bride. There are others who can deal with things up there. You’ve earned a spot of easy living, my friend.”

  Gunn began pacing again. “You know I can’t ignore what’s going on. The baron stirs up the braves every spring. Trouble is as inevitable as the sap rising in the maple trees. If only that damn Frenchman would leave the Indians be. But we both know he’s a stubborn, arrogant man.”

  Phips laughed softly. “You might be describing yourself, my friend.”

  “Maybe that’s why we get on as well as we do; we’re so much alike. Be that as it may, when I have to go, I don’t think I will take Alice with me. It’s far too dangerous during the summer months. I’d like her to stay here with you and Mary.”

  “It seems to me your bride will have some say in that decision.”

  At precisely eleven fifty-eight Sir William Phips appeared at Alice’s door to escort her downstairs. Already she could hear the sweet strains of a violin playing in the parlor below. The time had finally arrived. A moment’s panic churned through her before she placed her hand on Will’s arm, but it passed quickly. She smiled up at him and nodded.

  “I’m ready,” she said firmly.

  “Thank God,” he answered, weary and a bit tipsy from having shouldered the responsibility of keeping her groom in his skin all morning.

  Alice felt as if she were floating down the stairway. The cream satin skirt of her gown rustled like a spring breeze about her, and the sweet scent of the lilies in her bridal bouquet enveloped her. She was living in her own rarefied world—a universe of love and joy and wonder. Then she spied Chris, gazing up at her with a look of such tenderness and awe in his green eyes that all other thoughts fled. When had he ever been so handsome or so dear to her? She could hardly wait to stand beside him.

  All the guests hushed as Will placed Alice’s hand in Christopher’s. At that moment Alice felt that they were truly wed—flesh of one flesh, heart of one heart, two souls reborn as one through love. The standard replies, the vows, and the agreements were only the necessary requirements of the state to acknowledge the bond.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Chris immediately lifted her veil, too anxious to wait for Mary’s assistance. When her husband’s lips met hers for their first kiss as man and wife, Alice feared she might swoon in his arms. All the waiting, the worrying were behind them now. At long last Alice was Mrs. Christopher Gunn.

  “Thank God, it’s done!” Chris whispered close to his bride’s ear.

  Alice hugged him soundly, then turned a smile on their guests. The whole throng crowding the parlor rushed forward to congratulate the couple. The ladies kissed Alice’s cheeks while the men slapped Chris on the back and wrung his hand.

  Never in all her life had Alice spent a happier day. The bright spring sun shone down, filling the Phips home with added warmth. But Alice needed no sun to cheer her. Her heart was fairly bursting with gladness, and Chris was at her side all day—touching her hand, returning her smiles, stealing a kiss whenever he could.

  By late afternoon both bride and groom were tired and eager to be away from the others, alone at last.

  “I think we can leave now,” Chris whispered, his tone urgent.

  Alice shook her head. “Not yet, darling. Will said he would signal with a toast when it was time for us to slip upstairs.”

  “Well, dammit, why doesn’t he get on with it?”

  “Patience, my love.” Alice reached under the table and patted his thigh.

  He turned a smoldering gaze on her. “I can’t be patient when you keep touching me that way.”

  The chatter in the dining room continued, growing louder as the men slipped past their wives to visit the shed out back, then returned time after time with sweetened punch. Mary Phips presided over her servants, indicating with a wave of her hand or the barest nod when dishes were to be cleared and the next course brought to the table. Sir William, meanwhile, acted the perfect host, keeping his guests entertained with tall tales of his adventures in the southern seas.

  Only one guest remained somber and silent throughout the day. Captain Jonathan Hargrave looked glum during the ceremony and for all the hours that followed. He took to the shed as often as any other gentleman present, but Will Phips’s rum, brought all the way back from the Indies, did little to raise his spirits. He’d waited all these months, expecting this wedding would never take place. He’d come for the ceremony, more than ready to pick up the pieces when Gunn ran out on his bride. But it hadn’t happened. Now all he could do was wallow in his own misery and disappointment until he could find a ship headed back to England that needed a captain. He certainly couldn’t stay in Boston now that Alice had actually married another man, especially not that bastard Gunn.

  As dusk gathered outside the windows and long shadows crept into the room, Sir William rose to his feet a bit unsteadily and signaled for attention by tapping his glass with a silver spoon.

  “My friends,” he began.

  Chris gripped Alice’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Finally,” he murmured over her fingers.

  “Shhh,” Alice cautioned. “Let’s not interrupt him, it will take all the longer.”

  Chris smiled at the anxious tone in her voice. How wonderful it would be to finally get her upstairs, all to himself!

  However, Gunn’s smile faded as Will’s voice droned on and on in extravagant, flowery praise of the newly wedded couple, then in lavish good wishes for their continued happiness and for the union’s fruitfulness. He went on to bring the king into his toast, the Mother Country, and finally the colonies. Many yawns stretched wide around the table before it seemed that he was finally bringing his toast to a close.

  “And in conclusion…” Will said at last, but he never got to finish. The sound of horses’ hooves in the street outside drew everyone’s attention. A moment later someone was pounding at the front door as if he meant to batter it down.

  When one of the servants opened the door, a bedraggled, muddy, travel-weary courier burst in upon the wedding party. The tall fellow doffed his fur hat, mumbling a hasty apology to the company in general. Then h
e turned to Christopher Gunn.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I need a word with you.”

  Gunn recognized the man immediately. It was Oslen Wooster, one of the scouts from Fort Majabigwaduce. The black cloud that had hovered over him for the past weeks seemed to crowd into the room, darkening his mood once more.

  “Out with it, Wooster,” he said. “What news do you bring?”

  “Bad news, sir. The Abenaki raided the fort, and they’ve laid waste to a number of villages along the coast. The baron sent word that Portland will be next unless you meet with him immediately.”

  “Dammit, man, can’t you see I’ve just got married? You can’t expect me to ride out with you now. Maybe tomorrow…”

  The man looked from Gunn to his bride and a flush warmed his mud-spattered cheeks. “Congratulations, sir. My best wishes to you, Mrs. Gunn. But there ain’t a minute to lose. The Frenchman’s set a time limit. If we ride out right now, we might make that meeting. We wait till tomorrow, and there’s no telling how many more poor folks them savages will kill before they’re done.”

  Silence descended on the room. All eyes turned to Christopher Gunn, awaiting his reply.

  Alice’s eyes grew wide with alarm as she reached out and took her husband’s hand. “You can’t let those people die,” she said.

  “The men of Maine know how to fight. They won’t let their towns be taken.”

  Wooster shook his head. “These ain’t just springtime skirmishes, sir. It’s real mean, ugly fighting. Them savages ain’t even sparing the women and children. I could tell you horror stories, but seeing as there’s ladies present…” The lanky messenger dropped his gaze and fingered his hat nervously in his big hands. “The only way to stop the slaughter is a meet with the baron, and he vows that the only one he’ll talk to is you.”

  Gunn was already rising from his chair before the man finished. Alice felt her heart brim with pride in her new husband. He alone could save all those people! And what a romantic honeymoon they would have—riding the trails north, bedding down under starlit skies, making love for the first time in the wilds.