Silver Tears (21 page)

Gunn meant to tell the Frenchman that he believed he’d just go on to bed so that he could get an early start in the morning, but his brain and his tongue refused to cooperate. Before he could get out a single word, the anxious groom gave a signal and Gunn watched Ishani rise and move toward them.

“This is Wannoak’s woman,” the baron said in formal introduction. “He is a brave warrior. She is the daughter of a sagamore. She will do your bidding and by so doing bring honor to her husband and to her tribe. Will you have her, Christopher Gunn?”

Gunn stared up at Ishani and suddenly his blurred vision cleared, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Gone was the impudent child who had forced herself into his life. The beautiful Indian woman before him wore soft doeskins, embroidered with beads and feathers. Beneath her fine trappings her breasts were high and firm. Her waist was slender, her hips gently rounded. Her large, dark eyes did not plead with him to accept her, but demanded that she be given what she desired.

“Well, Gunn, what say you?” the Frenchman asked. “Will you have Ishani or choose another?”

“Ishani,” Gunn whispered absently, rising slowly and unsteadily to his feet to take her hand in his.

They stood together until the groom escorted his bride to their lodge. Then Gunn turned to Ishani and nodded toward his own tent. Without a word, they went inside.

The moment the flap dropped shut, Gunn realized what a major mistake he’d made. He should have begged off from this custom even if it meant running the risk of insulting the baron, Ishani’s husband, and her exalted father, the sagamore.

Ishani, not waiting for him to make his move, came to him and pressed her full lips to his. He gripped her arms and gently put her away from him.

“No, Ishani,” he said simply.

“But white men desire the pressing of mouths. I have seen how they do it.” Ignoring his protest, she began slipping out of her doeskin jacket. “You chose me,” she said quietly. “I am your woman for this night, Gunn. You cannot send me away this time without disgracing us both and bringing shame on us.”

He tried not to look at her as he said, “I have a woman, Ishani. A wife.”

“And I have a husband. I do him honor by coming to you. You know our ways.”

“Yes, but they are not our ways. When a Scotsman takes a woman for his wife, he does not betray his vows. I explained all this to you before when you came to the fort.”

Tears gathered in her ebony eyes. “You wish me to go, then? You want to shame me? As you wish, Gunn. I return now to my husband’s tent.”

She turned to leave, but Gunn caught her arm. If she went back to her husband now, turned out by the man who had chosen her, she would be considered an outcast from this time on.

“No. You can’t do that,” Gunn said softly. “You’ll stay here with me until morning.”

She turned to him, biting her lower lip to stay her tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are a good man, Christopher Gunn. What do you wish of me? I am yours.”

Alice, who had long since forgotten her mother’s love potion tucked under the mattress, tossed and turned in bed. The harder she tried to sleep, the more elusive falling asleep seemed. The longer she lay thinking of Chris, the more desperately she longed to be in his arms. A scorching fire possessed her whole body. What could have come over her? She loved him, yes. She needed him, certainly. But this was total obsession, bordering on passionate madness.

She lay very still on her back, gazing up at the dancing shadows on the ceiling. Forcing her body to remain motionless, she allowed her mind free rein. Slowly, carefully, she went over every detail of every moment she had ever spent with Chris, going back to that first time she’d met him when she was only a child. She remembered how he had frequented her dreams after that. He became her knight in shining armor, her secret love, her ultimate wish.

Then when she met the real Christopher Gunn, he had come as a disappointment. But how could any man live up to such childhood fantasies as she had woven around him? Still, there was no denying that she’d been attracted to him in an odd way when he rescued her from the ship.
Attraction
now seemed a mild word for what she felt for him. Once again the man had taken on mythical proportions in her mind. Chris now seemed like the husband she had always wanted, but could never truly have. They were married, yes, but some awesome barrier—much greater than any bundling board—seemed to stand between them.

A sudden wave of depression gripped her. It was so deep and hurtful that her chest felt heavy. It was difficult for her to breathe. She covered her eyes with her hands and cried aloud, “He’s with her this very moment. I know it. I can feel it.”

Refusing to let herself think about the Indian woman, Alice forced her mind to the night of their bundling. How sweet and silly and wonderful he had been! How could she not have loved him after that?

“Good! Good!” she said. “I’m getting a grip on myself. Think of the happy, not the sad.”

She giggled when she thought back to being in the back of the wagon on the trip to Boston. She wondered what Chris must have thought of her.

“I’ll ask him, when I get up the nerve,” she told herself. “I will.”

She imagined that in years to come, as they grew old together, they would laugh about their private jest, about the time when she mistook his arousal for an infectious swelling.

“‘Wrap something cool around it, Alice. Your hand,’” she mimicked. “My word, he must have taken me for a silly little fool!” She laughed. “And that’s exactly what I was. If it hadn’t been for dear Mary and her motherly talk the morning of our wedding, I’d have remained an innocent up to the very moment my husband made me his wife.”

Alice squirmed against the silk sheets. She didn’t feel very innocent at the moment. The bits and snatches of fantasy that were dancing through her brain were not decent. She hugged her bare breasts, feeling as if she might explode if she didn’t hold on tightly.

“You just wait till I get you alone in this bed, Christopher Gunn,” she whispered. “Then we’ll see what’s what. I’ll rub your swelling right enough.”

Alice’s words came as a shock to her own ears. What had come over her? She’d never felt like this before or thought like this before. She tried to cleanse her mind by saying a little prayer. It was no use. In the middle of her pious thought, there stood the image of her husband, naked and magnificent, turning his properly prayerful wife into a lusting wanton.

“Don’t do this to me,” she moaned, “at least not till you get home.”

Suddenly Ishani came back to mind—Ishani and the three feathers. In her present state of frustration and near insanity, Alice allowed herself to wonder for a moment what it might have been like to be a part of that
ménage à trois
. She felt thoroughly sinful even considering such an arrangement. Still, she smiled in spite of herself, sure that she could have bested the Indian woman at the art of love.

“Chris would have sent her packing in no time,” she assured herself. Then the thought that her husband was probably with Ishani at this very moment returned to plague her. A pout replaced her smile in the darkness. “Or will he send me packing the moment he returns?”

Alice went back to her tossing and turning. The room was cold, but sweat filmed her body. She couldn’t stop thinking of Chris and her need for him, but now a third party intruded on the erotic images that her mind had conjured up.

“Please, Chris, please,” she begged, not really knowing what she pleaded for.

Dawn was on its way and still sleep refused Alice its solace.

“I want you, Gunn.”

Ishani stretched out on the bed of furs in Gunn’s tent. He stared down at her. She was only a dim shape in the darkness, but he didn’t need to see her to know what he was being offered. Every muscle and nerve in his body danced with tension. His groin ached with the fires of hell, and sweat bathed his body.

“Ishani—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Come. Bring your mouth to mine,” she begged. “I need to taste you.”

One kiss—what could it hurt? he thought. But as he made a move toward the beauty lying in wait for him, he knew one kiss would be far too much and at the same time far from enough. As for the hurt, that would be inflicted on Alice. He backed away.

“I won’t lie with you, Ishani. I can’t.”

Slowly, sensually, she rose from the furs. “Ah, you wish it another way? So be it, Gunn. Whatever you wish. You
wautoconoags
have strange ways with women.”

Ishani came to him and hiked one leg to his hip, waiting for Gunn to lift her into position, with her legs wrapped about his waist. Gunn gripped her leg, but pushed it away. Her bare foot struck the ground.

“No,” he said emphatically.

“Then what do you want?” she asked in an injured tone.

“Ishani, I want to go home. I want to make love, yes, but I want to do it with my wife. There’s only one woman for me now. Alice. I love her.”

“Your wife does not know of this great passion you have for her?”

“No, dammit, she doesn’t, and it’s all my fault. But that’s a wrong I mean to right the minute I see her again.”

Silence fell over the tent. Ishani stood so close to Gunn that he could feel the warmth of her body. But his saner side had taken over. His head had cleared. He was cold sober now.

“You are going, then?”

“Yes. If I leave now and ride like hell, I can be home by morning.”

“She is waiting for you?”

Gunn thought back to their bitter quarrel before he left. “I hope so.”

“And if she is not?”

“Then, by damn, I’ll go find her and make her want to come back.”

“Go to her, you bastard!” Ishani snapped. “Be out of my sight now. Damn you, you are not good enough to be my man.”

Ishani’s uncharacteristic outburst stunned him, but he didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. He was well out of this situation.

Gunn hurried out of the tent. No one was about in the camp. Ishani would be safe. She could explain in the morning that, after spending the night with her, he had decided to set out early. Ishani was no longer in his thoughts. Only visions of Alice consumed his mind, his body, his heart.

“I’m coming, darling,” he whispered as he slipped out of the canoe and climbed on his horse. “I’m coming home.”

Finally Alice slept.

The sky looked like a black pearl as Gunn neared the cabin. Night was just beginning to slip away, letting streaks of rose and silvery-gray mingle with its ebony hue.

The ride from the Indian camp had been long and grueling, but Gunn felt wide awake and tense with anticipation. His first instinct was to ride directly to the fort, pass along the baron’s message of truce, then go immediately to Alice. However, he decided to stop by his cabin first. He could clean up a bit, change out of his travel-dusty clothes. He wanted everything to be right when he went to his wife.

The moment he spied the horse tethered outside his cabin, Gunn slowed his mount. What was this—some traveler or renegade brave using his place for the night? He sniffed the breeze. A fire was burning inside. Yes, someone—friend or foe, he had no idea which—was inside the cabin.

Gunn tied his horse in the woods near the edge of the clearing. On silent feet he stole toward his house. He all but stumbled over the soldier sleeping on guard duty outside.

“What the hell?” Gunn grumbled.

The startled watchman let out a shriek. “Don’t shoot, sir!” he cried. “It’s me, Private Smith from the fort, standing guard over your wife.”

“Damn fine guard you are!” Gunn growled. “Half the Abenaki nation could have ridden in here, and you’d have slept through the whole raid. My wife had better be all right, or you’re in for a long stint in the stockade, Private.”

“Yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir. The night was so quiet and there was no trouble about—”

“Not that you’d know if there had been.” Gunn booted the lazy fellow with the toe of his moccasin to send him on his way. “Get your horse and get the hell out of here. Now! Tell your captain that I’m here at my cabin, but I don’t want to be bothered unless it’s a real emergency. I’ll report in a few hours. For now, I’m on my honeymoon.”

“Yes, sir!” Private Smith snapped a salute, then ran for his horse, anxious to be out of the angry man’s range as soon as possible.

Gunn turned toward the cabin, moving quickly but silently. What a surprise his return would be for Alice! He only hoped he’d find her in a more hospitable mood than when he left. The baron’s gift was sure to help.

He noticed the changes she’d made the moment he opened the door. Silver gleamed in the semidarkness and fancy tapestries fluttered at the windows. Gone were the familiar odors of home—leather, tobacco, and bear grease. The place smelled of lye soap, roses, and lavender. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Still, it was her home, too. She had a right to pretty it up, if she liked.

The bedroom alcove was in shadow. He didn’t see the newly hung velvet drape until he was entangled in its soft folds. Muttering a low curse, he fought his way out. Beyond the curtain he spied Alice. His anger faded as desire gripped his body.

The first golden streaks of dawn were creeping through the tiny window of the room. They fell across the bed, lighting Alice’s lovely face as she slept. Gunn stood for a time staring down at her, letting the sight work its passionate magic on his senses.

She lay on her back, her golden hair spilling over the pillows like a tumbling, sunlit stream. One hand was thrown over her head, while the other nestled at her breast. Her fingers fanned out over her heart. The colorful counterpane had slipped down to reveal her left breast.

“My God, she’s not wearing a stitch,” Gunn breathed softly, feeling new heat in his blood.

He started to shed his own clothes, then reconsidered. He wouldn’t rush things. All night long he’d thought of this moment. Now they were here together at last. He wanted this feeling of awe and wonder and love to last a long, long time before he surrendered totally to his need.

Ever so carefully he sat down on the side of the bed. Alice stirred slightly, but did not wake. He touched her hair, fingering its silky strands. He brushed her lips gently with his. Again she moved and this time she smiled in her sleep. Gunn touched her exposed breast, circling the nipple with one fingertip, a touch that was feather-light. The rosy flesh puckered, then swelled and softened, welcoming his light caress. Slowly, carefully, Gunn slipped the covers down until Alice lay before his hungry eyes in all her naked beauty.

After tossing and turning most of the night, Alice slept deeply, dreaming fantastic dreams—all of Chris. They were together, making love by a clear, cold stream. Spring was in the air and the gentle breeze made her body quiver under its loving touch. She felt it blow through her hair, then over her lips. She smiled. It was almost like a soft kiss. Next it teased her breasts, making them ache to be suckled and stroked.

As the warm wind trailed down over her body, she moved her hips, guiding the wondrous feeling where she longed for it most. Lower and lower it blew, until she felt a hot tingling in her thighs and somewhere deep inside.

She sighed in her sleep and murmured her husband’s name.

Chris let his hands play over Alice’s body, which moved sensually under his touch. She was still sleeping, but she seemed aware of his presence and his gentle fondling. When she whispered his name, Chris warmed further to his work, letting his hand slip slowly between her thighs. She clamped down tightly, riding his palm with urgency.

As he sat beside his aroused but sleeping wife, a strange feeling came over Chris. He wanted Alice at this moment more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life, but even in his aching need, he had no wish to take her and be done with the sweetness in a sudden, single burst of passionate pleasure. He felt as if he could sit for hours, staring at her, touching her, thinking how magnificent it would be when the grand moment finally came.

Leaning down, he caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked it gently. Alice moaned aloud and writhed on the bed. He released her and at the same moment slipped his hand from between her legs. She lay still, a frown replacing her smile.

Chris moved closer and put his lips next to her ear. “I love you, darling,” he whispered, “and I need you. There are things I can teach you about love… things that will bring us both so much pleasure.” His hand strayed back to her thighs. He toyed with the crisp, dark gold curls there. “I want to make you know and feel everything.”

There was a warm buzzing in Alice’s brain. A soft voice seemed to fill her consciousness. The words droned on and on—soothing, tantalizing, arousing beyond anything she had ever imagined. It was Chris’s voice, she realized, and he was telling her how he would love her, things he would teach her—shocking things, marvelous things, things she had never before imagined. Her body tingled with each whispered suggestion.

Slowly she floated toward wakefulness. She seemed to be swimming upward through deep, dark water to a bright light above. When her eyes finally fluttered open, Chris’s face was her first waking vision. She stared at him, hardly able to believe that he was really there, that she hadn’t imagined all she’d just felt and heard.

“Darling?” she murmured.

“I’m home and I brought you a present from the baron.” Chris stood and unfolded the robe for Alice’s inspection.

She purred with delight. “Why, it’s lovely!”

“Feel how soft it is,” he told her, draping the glittering robe over her body.

Alice moved beneath the velvety cloak and murmured her delight. She smiled up at her husband. “It feels wonderful, but I like the touch of your hands better, darling.”

Slowly Chris slipped the robe down her body, making her shiver with pleasure.

“Oh, Chris, I’ve missed you so. I’m enormously glad you’re home. I’m so sorry for the way I acted before you left.”

“Shhh,” he answered, smiling down at her. “Don’t talk, just feel, love.”

He kissed her then—her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. She tried to part her lips in an inviting gesture, but that was not his plan, it seemed. Instead of letting his tongue glide inside, he used it to tease her lips ever so delicately, sending little tingling waves straight to her heart.

Finally, when Alice could take it no longer, she thrust her tongue into his mouth and gasped at the feeling of power it gave her. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him! Her hands went to his chest, but found buckskin instead of bare flesh. She tried to tear off his shirt, but Chris caught her wrists and laughed softly.

“Easy, love. Let’s not hurry. I’ve decided it’s high time I bedded my bride properly.”

“Chris, I want you now,” she gasped.

“Do you?” he said with a chuckle, then another deep kiss. “Well, let’s see if I can make you want me even more.”

He pressed Alice back to the pillows and let his head sink to her breasts once more while his hand slid down over her belly, finally slipping between her legs again.

Alice lay frozen, afraid to move for fear he would stop what he was doing to her. Never, ever, not in her entire life had she imagined she could feel so many marvelous sensations all at once. As his tongue stroked her breasts, his fingers found even more sensitive flesh to fondle. She lay as still as she could, gasping for breath, trembling all over.

“Chris.” His name was a hushed prayer from her lips.

“Darling?” he murmured back, still intent on pleasuring her body.

“Oh, please,” she moaned.

“Don’t rush things, Alice. Let me take my time, and I’ll show you what real love, real pleasure is.”

“There can’t be any more pleasure than what I’m feeling right now,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh, no?”

As he spoke the words, Chris did something new to her. In her present state, with so many sensations filling her senses, she couldn’t even be sure what it was. But the shock of his action was so great and the feeling so intense that she felt as if she might swoon with sheer joy.

“You’ll make me die of wanting you,” she cried.

He laughed softly. “Can you think of a more wonderful way to go, darling?”

The morning sun was nearing its zenith before Chris finally shed his clothes. He removed them slowly, one piece at a time, letting Alice have her fill of kissing and caressing each part of him before he cast off another garment. By the time he lay beside her, naked at last, they were both in a near frenzy with their long-pent-up desires.

Alice felt drugged by her intense longing. Her muscles ached and her limbs were heavy. Never had she imagined that passion could be such a driving force in her life, such an obsession as it was at this very moment. In the hours since dawn Chris had aroused every nerve in her body. He had awakened feelings she never knew she possessed. Right now she didn’t care if she lived or died, but she must have him.

He meant to enter her slowly, but Alice would have none of it. Thrusting her hips upward, she swallowed him whole—a hungry lioness, devouring her prey. Chris gasped at the sudden impact of her body slamming his.

All too quickly for both of them, the final spasm came. Afterward, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Twilight was coming on before Chris awoke. Alice lay beside him still sleeping. He thought seriously of waking her and making love again, but he curbed his urge. Smiling down at her, he whispered, “Just as well you’re asleep, love. You damn near wore me out.”

Silently he rose and covered her with the sparkling robe. Then he dressed quickly. It was high time he reported to the commandant at the fort. Castin’s news was certain to be greeted with great relief. After winter’s sickness the number of seasoned soldiers on duty was vastly diminished. The new replacements were still green and unaccustomed to Indian-style warfare. They would be at a definite disadvantage against the Abenaki.

Gunn slipped out of the cabin without disturbing Alice. He would ride directly to the fort, deliver his message, and return immediately. There was no need to signal for a guard to ride out and watch over Alice. He’d be back in no time.

His arrival at the fort was greeted with smirks and snickers from the soldiers. Gunn damned himself for telling Private Smith that he was honeymooning. Now every man in the place knew exactly what he’d been up to these past hours. Ignoring their leers and lewd remarks, Gunn went straight to the commandant’s office.

“Glad to see you back, Gunn,” Captain Raskin said. “How was your trip?”

Gunn declined the chair Raskin offered; he wouldn’t be staying that long. “Peaceful,” he answered, “and things are likely to remain so for some time. The baron’s taken himself a bride, old Madockawando’s daughter, and he’s declared a truce for the duration of his honeymoon. So we can cancel that raid we were planning for next week.”

The color drained from the captain’s face and a coughing spasm overtook him.

“What’s wrong?” Gunn asked, scowling at the man.

“A truce, you say?”

“That’s right. I figured you’d be as happy to hear it as I was.”

“Oh, I am.” Raskin shied away from Gunn’s direct gaze as he confessed, “There’s just one small problem. I sent out an armed party the night after you left. They surprised a band of renegades in the woods beyond your cabin, killed fifteen of them. But my men said that devil Scarappi and a couple of others escaped. They’ll be taking news of our attack back to the baron, I’m sure.”

Furious, Gunn slammed his fist down on the desk. “Dammit, Raskin, I thought we agreed before I left that no action was to be taken until my return, until I’d met with the baron.”

“Well, yes, that was the plan,” Raskin agreed sheepishly. “But, you see, there was some trouble while you were away. A parson rode in, scared half to death from having been chased by that band of renegades. I figured we’d better hit them before they attacked us. It seemed a wise decision at the time.”

Gunn was too disgusted to reply immediately. When would these military men realize that there was more to battle strategy than simply to attack? Had they no faith at all in diplomacy?

“I was wrong,” the captain muttered. “I admit it. What do we do now?”

“Damned if I know,” Gunn snapped. “Castin’s not a forgiving man. He’ll undoubtedly think this attack was planned all along and that I knew about it and failed to warn him in time to save his men. He won’t be too understanding, I can promise you that. If I were you, Raskin, I’d prepare for the worst.”