Silver Tears (7 page)

Alice relaxed as she listened to the old man ramble on in a low, soothing tone. His gentle words lulled her as he put all her fears to rest.

“Now, sweet Alice, since I can’t offer you more, I feel it my duty at least to let you know what a woman should learn on her wedding night. Listen carefully, my child. When I’m gone and you marry again, you’ll go to your new husband knowing the things a woman should.”

She’d protested that she wanted no other husband, but Lord Balfour only smiled and smoothed a gentling hand over her brow.

“Your words are kind, but your heart is aching tonight, I know. Hear me now, Alice, and remember well what I’m about to explain to you.”

What followed, Alice remembered all too well. Her husband first talked of the “stirrings of love,” the feelings of a young woman when she finds the one man in all the world who is meant for her.

“I am not that man,” he said sadly. “Would that I were twenty years younger, I would show you that I could be. But someday, Alice, you will find him. When you do, you will know him in an instant.”

Lord Balfour leaned down, staring into Alice’s wide eyes, and let his fingers trace over her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, and finally down her neck. A strange tingling sensation followed in the wake of his cool touch.

“When the right man caresses you so, you will feel his touch magnified a thousand times,” he told her. “When he holds you and kisses you, the rest will follow as naturally as the blooming of a spring flower after an April rain. Never fear love, my child. And never fear the man who, through love, will make you a woman. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Alice?”

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, but his rambling words only added to her confusion.

He leaned down and touched his dry lips lightly to her forehead, and left her to spend the rest of their wedding night alone. He never came to her chamber again.

Over the months and years that followed, Lord Balfour brought one young man after another to meet his wife, all the while urging Alice to choose one to be her lover. But she refused, feeling puzzled as well as duty-bound to her husband to love no other.

More than once, he sighed at her refusals and said, “If only Christopher Gunn were here. You’d not turn away from him, I vow.”

Alice pulled aside the deerskin flap at the window and peered out. “If only he would come.”

To her amazement, the afternoon had died while she was lost in her memories. A crescent moon shone in the blue velvet sky against a canopy of twinkling stars. The gate to the fort, she knew, was already locked for the night.

“Where is Gunn?” She stared up, sending her desperate plea to the heavens. “Why hasn’t he come for me?”

A
week later Alice had all but given up staring out her window and hoping. For some reason—feathers or no feathers—Christopher Gunn had left the fort without her. She’d found out the morning after his visit that he and Ishani had ridden out together after dark. The depth of her disappointment had shocked her. For days she’d waited and watched, expecting Gunn to return for her.

Now what was she supposed to do? She certainly couldn’t spend the rest of her life cooped up in this tiny room with only Pegeen for company. Winter was coming on fast. Whatever move she decided to make, she must make it very soon. Before long, heavy snows would cut them off from the outside world. Spring, she’d been told, came late in Maine. Unless she got out right away, she would have to stay until late April or May. This very morning she’d seen the first shining snowflakes dancing outside her window. Alice knew time was running out.

Alice paced the room, plotting one scheme after another. Pegeen was out fetching more wood for their fire, or so she said. Alice had her own suspicions as to her servant’s whereabouts. The blacksmith, a strapping fellow by the name of Sheamus O’Dare, had caught the girl’s fancy. Before long, Alice mused, she would truly be all alone. O’Dare had much to offer a wife, and it appeared that Pegeen was quite taken with the barrelchested, ruddy-faced Irishman.

As much as Alice had ranted and raved about forbidding the girl to wed, she knew that she could not bring herself to stand in the way of true love. She also knew Pegeen for the scheming little wench she was. She could hardly forbid the match if Peg turned up in a family way. Alice guessed that she was already working at it. Once the girl thought Alice asleep at night, she’d slip out, returning hours later. Where else could she be going, but to the bed of her lover?

Alice shook her head and brushed one hand through the air, as if to chase away these nagging thoughts. She needed to concentrate on her own predicament, not worry over her servant’s lovelife.

Sooner or later Gunn would surely return to the fort. Why he had left without her, she could not imagine. Perhaps his feather trick had only been meant in jest. He certainly couldn’t have expected her to honor such a pledge once she found out what it involved. She laughed aloud at herself—if only Gunn knew that by nightfall she had convinced herself that she could and would accept the odd arrangement.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She hurried to open it, thinking at long last that Christopher Gunn would be waiting outside. The sight of Jonathan Hargrave came as a shock.

“Captain!” she cried. “You’re up and about.”

He nodded and offered her a weak smile. “Aye, but not too steady on my feet yet. May I come in and sit down, Lady Alice?”

She immediately showed him in. He sank down heavily into one of the chairs. His brow was beaded with sweat, despite the chill outside. The lines around his mouth drew down, betraying his pain.

“Should you be up so soon?” Alice asked.

“Probably not, but I had to see you. It’s important.”

“Oh?” Remembering how she’d stolen into the infirmary and kissed him, Alice had difficulty meeting his slate-gray eyes.

“You didn’t go with Gunn. Why, Lady Alice?”

She shrugged slightly, secretly relieved that the captain thought she had stayed of her own free will. “Would you expect me to go off with a man who planned to make me part of a harem? I’d certainly never allow my husband to keep a lover under my very roof. To think that he actually meant for that girl to live with us!” She paused dramatically and the blue fire in her eyes flared before she continued her impassioned tirade. “Can you imagine him even suggesting such a thing to me?”

Alice sank into the chair across from the captain. He reached out and placed one hand over hers. “I’m happy you feel that way. It’s what I came to hear, actually. I warned you Gunn was not the man for you. He was a savage before he left England. He’s even more so now.”

“That he is,” Alice murmured softly. The rest of her thought remained hers alone:
A marvelous, wonderfully exciting male savage
.

“I’m glad you agree,” Hargrave answered solemnly. “Knowing your true feelings makes what I have to say to you ever so much easier. I still want to marry you, Alice, truly, I do. More than ever.”

The words came like a shot. Alice should have expected this, but she hadn’t.

She shook her head slowly. “Captain Hargrave…”

“Please, my dear, call me Jon.”

“Jon, I can’t marry you. I don’t love you.”

He leaned toward her, gripping her hand much harder. “Are you telling me you loved your old lord?”

She pulled away from his touch. “No, not in the way I must love before I marry again.”

“But the other night… you came to me, Alice. It wasn’t a dream—I know that now. Your kisses were real. A woman isn’t intimate with a man that way unless—”

“Unless she’s half out of her mind from worrying about her survival, Jon. I came to you in desperation. If I agreed to wed you, it would be for the same reason.”

He laughed dryly. “You’re saying you’re not desperate enough for that yet.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I don’t know yet what I’ll do, where I’ll go. I only know I can’t stay here. Earlier this week I met William Phips and he offered me a place with him and his wife in Boston.”

“So, you have your choice of being Gunn’s odd woman out or the same deal with Phips?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “That’s not it at all. I’d be merely a houseguest until I decide about my future.”

Alice, desperate to find something else to focus on besides Jonathan Hargrave’s tormented face, glanced out the window. The gates were swinging open. Her heart beat faster, then slowed when she saw two Indian women coming in. The men gathered round, as anxious as ever for female companionship. Even an old squaw with graying hair and ragged teeth could create excitement in this womanless place. A moment later bloodcurdling screams filled the air, then another sound like thunder—horses’ hooves, she realized. Alice rose and hurried to the door.

“What is it?” Hargrave asked.

“Indians!” Alice gasped. “A score of painted savages stampeding through the gates. Dear God, they’ll kill us all!”

Alice stood frozen in the open door. The attacking braves were almost naked, their bodies covered with bright splashes of paint. Or was it blood? A scream caught in her throat as she saw one of them glance her way. With a wild yelp, he started toward her at a full gallop.

She turned to Hargrave. “Quickly, hide in one of my trunks.”

“I won’t leave you to them.”

“Don’t argue. You’re too weak to fight,” she told him. “Do as I say! Now!”

Alice turned back to the open door. Flaming arrows blazed up the wooden walls of the fort in several places. The parade ground was a mass of bloody men, waging hand-to-hand combat, but the soldiers seemed to have gained the upper hand, forcing their attackers back toward the open gate. No one noticed the lone rider, his eyes wild, his shriek of triumph piercing the sounds of the battle, as he headed straight for Alice.

A voice of reason in Alice’s head screamed for her to shut and bar the door, but the horrible sounds outside drowned out all reason. The savage was so close now she could see his dark, evil eyes shining and the black bolts of lightning painted on his cheeks.

“No!” she screamed. “No, don’t touch me!”

She closed her eyes tightly to shut out his face and covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear his war cries. But she couldn’t escape by closing out reality. As he grabbed her arm, pulling her outside, she fought him, screaming as loud as she could. There seemed no escape this time.

Just as the warrior reached for his mount, she heard another horse pounding toward her. Her attacker froze for a moment, but never let go of her. The next instant a second, stronger hand gripped her arm. She felt as if she were being torn in two, then the Indian let her go. Before she knew what was happening, she felt herself swept completely off the ground and up onto the back of the huge stallion.

“Hang on tight!” a familiar voice commanded.

Alice opened her eyes to find Christopher Gunn holding her. With speed and care, he reined his big horse through the yard and out of the gates. In minutes they were flying over the bare fields.

“Where are you taking me?” Alice asked, thinking anywhere would be better than the besieged and bloody fort, though it seemed the soldiers had beaten the marauding savages into a hasty retreat.

“Where a wife belongs,” he said. “Home!”

Alice relaxed, closed her eyes again, and said no more. A smile curved her lips. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Gunn had needed the time to convince his Indian woman to return to her people. He had been raised as an English gentleman. She should have guessed that his background would not allow him to make her part of such a sordid situation as he had proposed.

The sounds of battle faded and the silence of the forest closed in around them. Gunn reined in his mount and turned Alice toward him, searching her face, his own troubled.

“Scarappi didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Who?”

“The warrior with the lightning bolts tattooed on his face. That one’s a devil.”

“No, I’m all right. You seem to have a knack for arriving in the nick of time.”

The look in his dark green eyes made her blood steam in her veins. His hand came up to cup her cheek.

“Alice, oh, Alice,” he whispered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Not ever.”

Gently he pulled her to his chest and closed his arms around her. The next instant his mouth was on hers, kissing her desperately, fiercely. Alice clung to him, wanting to sob in her joy. This was right. This was what love was all about—two people who could not exist without each other. She knew for certain now that Christopher Gunn was the only man for her.

When they drew apart, they were both trembling.

“Do you know how much I want you, Alice? Do you know what it did to me when I saw the smoke rising from the fort? Things too horrible to imagine flashed through my mind. If anything had happened to you…”

She touched his lips with her fingertips. “Shhh. I’m here now and safe, thanks to you.”

“It’s getting late,” Gunn said quietly. “Time we got home.”

“What about the others back at the fort?”

“You’re worrying about Pegeen, aren’t you? Wasn’t she with you?”

“No,” Alice answered. “She was probably at the smithy shop with O’Dare when the Indians rode in.”

Gunn laughed. “Then you needn’t concern yourself. I’ve seen him fight off that many Indians single-handed. Your little Irish wench is pretty handy with a crockery jug, too, if I remember correctly. So stop fretting, Alice. Kiss me.”

She did as he ordered, then sighed. “Yes, take me home. Please.”

Leaning back against Gunn’s warm, broad chest, Alice closed her eyes again, luxuriating in his nearness as the horse clip-clopped through the silent forest. The whole world seemed enchanted as glittering snowflakes swirled through the air. There was nothing to worry about now, nothing to fear. She was in his arms—safe and warm and loved. This was what she had waited for, ached for all week long, to be together, just the two of them. She would at last know the love that Lord Geoffrey had promised she would find someday.

“I’m sorry about that three-feather trick,” Gunn whispered against her hair. “It was stupid of me, and I regretted doing it that very day. Forgive me?”

Alice felt too relaxed to say a word. She nodded and murmured, “Hmmm.”

He chuckled softly and brushed his lips against her temple. “I’ll take that as an affirmative reply. Alice, look. There it is.”

Gunn’s cozy cabin was tucked away in a stand of pines. The windows glowed with warm light in the gathering dusk, and smoke rose invitingly from the stone chimney.

“It’s no palace,” he told her, “but it’s home.” He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “All mine, just like you, Alice.”

His breath and his sentiments both warmed her through and through, but his next words sent a chill down her spine.

“Let’s get inside out of this cold. Ishani should have supper waiting.”

Alice could think of no reply. Ishani? Surely he was joking, testing her to see her reaction. She remained silent as he dismounted, then helped her down from the horse.

Alice smiled when he opened the door and showed her into the empty room. The fire glowed warmly, the table was set for two, and a delicious-smelling stew bubbled on the hearth. Ishani was nowhere to be seen.

“This is very nice,” she said. “Did you build the cabin yourself?”

“Aye. Felled every tree, cut every log, and built it from the ground up,” he answered with pride.

Alice went to the hearth and lifted the lid of the black iron pot. A cloud of aromatic steam greeted her. “And you can cook as well. My, my, I’m impressed.”

Gunn laughed. “I don’t think you’d be too impressed with
my
cooking.”

Alice’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind that now. Come here. I’m hungry, but it’s not rabbit stew that will satisfy me.”

He pulled Alice into his arms, hugging her with such force that she thought her bones would break.

“It’s the taste of you I’m starved for, love.”

He buried his beard in her neck and nibbled a trail up the delicate line of her jaw. He nipped at her cheek and the tip of her nose before finally seeking her lips. Even then, he continued his passionate teasing, letting his tongue stroke the corners of her mouth before he covered her lips. By the time he finally kissed her, Alice was weak in his arms. She made no move to stop his big hand when it strayed to her breast. His fingers stroked gently, sending new waves of heat through her body. His thumb circled her taut nipple, making it strain all the more, aching for his touch.

She parted her lips, wanting to taste more of him, to feel more of him, to receive all he had to give. Gunn quickly obliged, letting his tongue dart in and out, back and forth until she sighed into his open mouth.

Carefully he eased toward a low cot near the fire. “I want you now,” he murmured between kisses.