“I doubt it. The Abenaki hear only what they want to hear. Ishani will close her ears and her eyes to whatever I do that might displease her. You’ll learn their ways in time, Alice.”
Alice cringed as a picture flashed through her mind. What if the situation were reversed and Ishani lay in Gunn’s arms while she was expected to hide dutifully behind the curtain, neither seeing nor hearing as the man she wanted made love to his Indian maid? Could she bear it? Her whole body burned with fury at the very idea.
Alice scrambled off the cot. “No! I could never learn to live this way.”
Gunn glanced about his humble cottage. “I know it’s not the great manse you’re accustomed to, but it’s as fine a place as you’ll find this side of Boston.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” she cried. “I mean her! I won’t share my man with another woman.”
He grinned and reached out for Alice, pulling her almost roughly against his chest. “Ah, that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. I’m your man, eh? No more doubts about poor Jon, no more mourning for your dear dead husband?”
“You have to take me back to the fort,” she demanded.
“Oh, no, you can’t escape me that easily.”
“I’m not trying to escape you, Gunn. I’m just telling you that I will not stay here as long as you’re keeping another woman under the same roof. If you won’t take me back, I’ll go by myself.” She started for the door, but when she opened it, she saw that the snow was swirling outside.
“You think you’ll find your way back alone in that?” He laughed. “No, my lady. It seems that you are completely at my mercy.”
The fire crackled and popped in the grate, the wind wailed outside, but all else was silent in the room as Alice thought over all that Gunn had said. Maybe it was time she told him the whole truth. Maybe all that was left to her was to throw herself on his mercy and pray that he was as decent a man as Lord Geoffrey had thought him to be. She glanced up at him. Gunn stood a few feet away, staring at her with an inscrutable smile on his face.
She sighed and plunged in. “Christopher Gunn, I want you to listen to me and hear me well.”
Alice had his full attention now. His smile faded and he moved away a bit.
“Lord Geoffrey sent me here for three reasons. The first was that he knew I would no longer be safe in England without his protection because my mother was hanged as a witch.” Alice watched Gunn’s face, waiting for some reaction, but he remained calm and said nothing, so she went on.
“Second, he wanted me to claim his inheritance, and, most important of all, he wanted the two of us to be wed. All the years that we were married, I listened to his tales of you—what a fine, noble, upstanding man you were when he knew you. He said there was not another on this earth who could measure up to you. He felt fate had been cruel to give me such an old and ailing husband. I did not agree, but those were his thoughts on the matter. Nevertheless, he wanted my second marriage to be right in every way. You, he told me, would be the perfect husband for me.”
Gunn took a step toward Alice, reaching out to her. “You don’t have to tell me any more.”
“Please don’t interrupt,” she pleaded. “Let me finish what I have to say. I’ve been pulled this way and that since I first set eyes on you. I can’t take it any longer. It’s time I simply gave in, but I want you to know everything first so you’ll understand what I’m feeling.”
“I understand more than you realize,” he said.
She ignored him and continued. “When I first saw you on the ship, you frightened me. I think you actually wanted me to believe that you were one of the pirates.”
“I never!” he protested.
“Be that as it may, I detested you on sight. Also, I’d heard tales about you that were highly questionable, not from Lord Geoffrey, but from someone else.”
“Hargrave?” he asked.
Alice did not answer him. “Still, there was something about you that attracted my fancy even before I knew your true identity. Then when you kissed me…” Alice shied away from his gaze, embarrassed suddenly. When she felt composed, she continued. “I would like very much to marry you, Gunn. I believe the things Lord Geoffrey told me about you were true. Some of your polish has rubbed off here in this wild country, but underneath your rough facade, I think a gentleman lies waiting for the right wife to set him free. I could be that wife. We would be right together.”
Gunn smiled and his eyes gleamed with a merry light. “So this is a proposal? If I’m a gentleman as you suspect, then I have no choice but to accept, Lady Alice. Of course I’ll marry you.”
He came toward her, ready for a kiss to seal their bargain, but Alice kept him at arm’s length.
“I won’t marry you until Ishani is out of our lives—for good. I’m sorry, Gunn, you must choose between us. Now, will you please take me back to the fort?”
Gunn’s smile had faded. “And while you’re there at the fort, I’m supposed to get rid of Ishani, is that it?”
Alice shook her head. “I make no demands,” she said in a weary voice. “I’ve simply told you how I feel. The rest is up to you. I’m giving you time to consider, Gunn, to make up your mind what you’ll do.”
“And if Ishani still refuses to go?”
“Then you won’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh, of course! You’ll be fine here all alone, fending for yourself.”
“I won’t be alone,” Alice answered in a rash moment of defiance that quickly backfired. “Jon Hargrave—”
Gunn never let her finish. Throwing a heavy cloak of skins about her shoulders, he shoved her toward the door. “I’ll take you back. Damn right, I will! I shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place.”
When the door to the cabin closed, Ishani threw back the curtain and hurled an Indian curse after Gunn. She hadn’t closed her ears to what was happening in the main room. Every word they had spoken still echoed in her head.
“He tricked me,” she seethed. “He never meant to make me his woman.”
When she’d come to him, she had been so sure she could make Gunn want her. Then when he’d explained to her a few days ago that they must make the treaty of three feathers, she had felt her hopes sinking. All week long, as he tried to convince her to go home, she had done her best to lure him away from the pale-haired woman, but it seemed she had failed… for now. She knew what she must do to save face and to get even.
Rushing into the main room, furious tears streaming down her face, she cleared the cupboard with an angry swipe of her hand. Next she threw the table over, then tossed Gunn’s favorite fur robe into the fire. She stormed about the cabin, destroying as she went. Gunn would know her anger even if he did not share her pain.
When she had reduced the lodge to chaos, Ishani scribbled a brief message on a piece of bark to let him know who had done the damage. It was far less than he deserved for turning from her, she told herself, but it would do for now.
Gunn wouldn’t return until daylight, so she would stay the night. But before dawn she would be gone. Ishani, her tears if not her anger spent, sank down before the fire, rocking gently back and forth. A low, sweet song formed in her heart and soon filled the room. It was a traditional song, a song of mourning.
Hearing something in the distance, she stopped singing and sat perfectly still. Someone was coming. She could hear the horses’ hooves off in the distance. A short time later she heard voices.
“Scarappi,” she whispered as cold fear gripped her heart.
The ride back to the fort was silent and furious. Gunn drove his mount mercilessly through the swirling snow. He spoke not a word to Alice the whole way. The first sound of his voice she heard was when he called up the password for the guards to open the gates.
He took her immediately to her room and left her at the door. Turning his big horse, he rode off toward the common room to be with the other men for the rest of the night.
Shivering, her shoulders sagging, Alice entered to find Pegeen and her strapping blacksmith sharing one of the beds. Any other time she would have screamed and ranted at the girl. Instead, she went silently to her own cot and sank down.
Pegeen was beside her immediately. “Oh, mum, we was so worried about you!”
“So I see,” Alice answered, glancing toward O’Dare, who was pulling on his britches in the shadows. “I’m fine, Peg. I’m glad to see Sheamus took good care of you.”
“That he did, mum. Saved me from them savages. He’s a wonderful man, he is, and I do love him so.”
Before Alice could reply, Sheamus O’Dare was there, grinning down at her a bit sheepishly.
“Lady Alice, with your permission, mum, I’ll be beggin’ for your Peg’s hand in marriage.”
Alice smiled tiredly. “Somehow I guessed you would.”
“Well?” Pegeen pressed. “May I wed, mum? You said I might when I found the right man, and Sheamus here’s as fine as they come.”
Weary and distraught over her own disastrous evening, Alice still managed a weak smile for the happy couple. “You have my blessing, Peg. Please go now and leave me alone.”
Nothing could have pleased Pegeen more. Grabbing her lover’s hand, she hurried for the door, but Alice stopped them.
“What happened to Captain Hargrave?” she asked.
“Not a hair mussed, mum,” O’Dare replied with a grin. “We found him locked in one of your trunks after the fighting was over.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s all right. Run along now, you two.”
Once they were gone, Alice sank back on her pillow, staring up at the shadows from the firelight dancing on the low ceiling. She felt as if she were swimming among them—some aimless, weightless, hopeless thing.
She had poured out her heart to Christopher Gunn tonight, and look where it got her. She felt empty, beyond tears even if she could let herself cry. She wouldn’t take any more, she decided. There had to be some way to set her life in order at once, or she’d go mad.
“Tomorrow,” she said aloud, “I should speak with Jonathan Hargrave.”
But deep down in her heart she wished tomorrow would never come.
Chapter 5
Gunn shoved his empty tankard away from him and rose to leave the common room. Just as he reached the door, it flew open, letting in a flurry of snow, cold wind, and a tousled but beaming Will Phips.
“I figured I’d find you here,” Will said, gripping Gunn’s arm and tugging him toward the open door.
“What’s wrong?” Gunn asked.
A wide smile lit up Will’s long, thin face. “Not a thing in the whole damn world. I just want to talk to you, friend to friend.”
Gunn frowned. The last time Phips had sidled up to him with that innocent be-my-buddy smile had been back in ’83. On that occasion, Will had convinced Gunn to set out with him on his first treasure hunt, searching for sunken Spanish ships in the warm waters of the Caribbean. To Gunn, it had seemed as wild a dream as those of men, and women, who came to Maine searching for the mythical kingdom of Norumbega. But somehow, with his open grin and winning words, Phips had persuaded him to go along.
King Charles II himself had provided a ship, the Salee Rose, a frigate captured from Algerian pirates. Will, Gunn, and the others had left Boston in January of 1684, headed for the Bahama Banks. But that trip proved disastrous from the start as they faced storms, pirates, and finally the mutiny of their ragtag crew. Will and Gunn had survived, but they’d come home with no treasure and no further support from the king.
Gunn had been so disgruntled with his own folly that he’d refused to go back in ’87. That was the year Phips found his fabled wreck and sailed back to England loaded down with sows, pigs, champeens, and dowboys of silver, doubloons of gold, and chests filled with jewels. He brought back twenty-seven tons of treasure all told. Gunn still cursed himself every time he thought of missing out on such an adventure.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Phips said as the two men strode across the parade ground toward Will’s quarters. “But what I have to propose is not a treasure hunt. A man can’t be so lucky twice in his life.”
Hiding his disappointment, Gunn scoffed, “What other madness do you have in mind, then?”
“I’ve bought a new shipyard. I want you to leave the wilderness and come run the business in Boston for me.”
“You can’t be serious,” Gunn said, laughing. “Just up and leave everything here?”
“At least give it a try,” Phips urged. “Winter over with Mary and me. See what it’s like to feel civilized again.”
“The two of you don’t need me around,” Gunn protested. “I’m sure the last thing Mary wants is a spare man underfoot when you’ve been away so much these past five years.”
It wasn’t that Gunn found the idea unappealing. Running off to Boston to spend the winter in the Phipses’ fine home would remove him from his troubles with Alice and Ishani. However, the main problem he longed to escape, the very thing that was bedeviling the life out of him, was the same thing that would keep him here. If he traipsed off with Will Phips, what would become of Alice?
The thought of joining Will in business intrigued him, but he wasn’t sure he could do it. After all these years in the Maine wilds, Gunn panicked at the mere mention of returning to civilization. Also, there was the baron to be dealt with. Lately he’d proved just how stubborn a Frenchman could be by refusing to negotiate with anyone but his blood brother. Still, the Indians usually remained quiet during the winter. That would give Gunn at least a few months to try out life in Boston as a businessman and to cement his relationship with Alice.
“You’re sure Mary knows about this invitation, Will?”
“You know Mary’s always delighted to have you with us, Chris,” Phips insisted. “Besides, the social season is just beginning. How can you even think of passing up such an opportunity?” Will leaned close and whispered suggestively, “Pretty ladies, wine, and song?”
Most of the night the two men sat in Phips’s quarters discussing the shipbuilding business and the possibilities presented by wintering over in Boston. By dawn Gunn was even more tempted, but still unconvinced.
“Let me think about it,” he told his eager friend.
“All right, but don’t take too long considering. That little storm we had was only a mild taste of what we have to look forward to a short while from now. I leave for home in a week. I won’t be back till the spring thaw.”
“You’re sure Mary agreed to my staying with you?” Gunn asked.
Phips laughed. “My Mary’s dying to show off her new home. ‘A fair brick house in Green Lane of North Boston,’ just like she told me she wanted. With my cut of the treasure, I’ve built her the finest damn mansion in the whole city.”
A plan was forming in Gunn’s mind. “Would Mary consider taking in two houseguests for the winter?”
Phips began to chuckle, then he laughed out loud. “You devil! I should have guessed. But which of your women are you proposing to bring along to keep my Mary company?”
Gunn frowned. “Alice, I hope. But first I have to figure out what to do with Ishani.”
By the time Alice awoke the next morning, Christopher Gunn was long gone, probably for good, she supposed. She sighed as she dressed, dreading the day ahead. Last night her resolve had been firm, but as the time drew nearer, she began to lose confidence in her plan. Could she really go to Jonathan Hargrave and tell him that she would marry him? If she did, then could she go through with it?
She considered the man. He was a good bit older than she, but not nearly as ancient as her first husband had been. Jon’s temples were just beginning to show the slightest hint of silver. He might be forty-five or even fifty, but he was still an active, virile man. He seemed good, steady, reliable. Granted, there was nothing exciting about him, but was marriage, after all, supposed to be one adventure after another?
“No,” she said aloud. “Marriage is solemn business—the business of surviving together and raising a family.”
She had to admit that she could see Jon in the role of father and helpmate much more easily than she could visualize Gunn with a child on each buckskin-clad knee. Still, when she thought of her great, red-bearded heathen, a certain warmth crept through her veins and her heart beat a bit faster. That was not the case when she thought about the captain. But love was not everything, she reminded herself. She hadn’t been in love with Lord Geoffrey, yet their marriage had been good.
Silently she chastised herself for being young and foolish. At least she would have a settled, stable future as Mrs. Jonathan Hargrave. After the events of last night she couldn’t be sure that Christopher Gunn would still marry her, and she couldn’t bring herself to accept an uncertain future with him. She had to face even the possibility that she might never see him again.
“Pegeen,” she said as the girl came through the door, carrying a pail of water. “Go tell Captain Hargrave that I’d like a word with him at his convenience. I’d like to be alone to speak with him, so you may do as you please for the next hour or so.”
“Yes, mum,” Peg answered brightly, her face glowing like a new copper as she hurried out the door to deliver her mistress’s message as quickly as possible. Then she would be free to see Sheamus.
Jonathan Hargrave was taking some air in the yard when Pegeen ran up to him to offer Alice’s invitation. He nodded his acceptance, but did not turn immediately toward her quarters. He needed time to think before he saw her again.
She had saved his life yesterday by forcing him to hide in her trunk. The warrior who had accosted her had come into the room, tearing the place apart in his bloodthirsty anger. Had he found anyone there, the Indian would surely have done fatal damage.
Hargrave was thankful for his life, but the whole scene should have been the other way round. He should have protected Lady Alice. He was, after all, the male—the master of the race. But instead of speeding to her defense, he had meekly allowed himself to be saved, leaving Alice to a seemingly ghastly fate. The whole business had taken something out of him. It helped little that Alice had been rescued by Christopher Gunn once again. The man seemed to be everywhere and always at exactly the right moment. He resented Gunn’s nerve, his bravado, his very existence. Heroes, after all, should stay where they damn well belonged—in storybooks.
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