Silver Tears (14 page)

He lifted her gently, nuzzling her forehead with his smooth cheek. “Nor do I, Alice. Nor do I.”

A
lice felt a delicious warmth flowing all through her as Gunn placed her on the wide bed. Here, at last, was what she had dreamed of—the two of them, alone together, lying side by side.

Mary had explained to her that usually, especially with very young couples, a board was placed down the center of the bed to keep them from doing anything untoward. “But,” Mary had gone on in her motherly fashion, “I’m sure that you and Christopher can be trusted. After all, Alice, you’re a widow, and we all know,” she went on in a whisper, “that Gunn is no blushing virgin.”

Consequently, no bundling board separated the two of them. Alice almost wished there were a barrier between them as Gunn stretched out beside her. Both were clothed from head to boot, but still, Alice felt, there was something so intimate, so exciting about lying down next to a man in the darkness.

For several moments nothing happened. A barrier rose down the center of the soft feather mattress more solid than any bundling board could have been. Then slowly Gunn’s hand inched toward Alice’s. When their fingers touched, she jumped.

“Easy,” he whispered. “I won’t bite—not unless you ask me to.”

“And why, pray tell, would I do that?” Her haughty tone showed how nervous she was.

“Some women like a bit of force, a little nibble now and again.”

As he spoke, Alice realized that he had laced his fingers through hers and was squeezing quite hard. She returned the pressure, surprised that the slight pain in her hand gave her pleasure.

“So, this is what you call courting, Christopher Gunn? Threatening to bite me?”

“No, it’s just that conversation is a part of bundling. We’re supposed to get to know each other. We’re allowed to say anything we like, but it can never go past this room, this night.”

“Anything?” she asked.

“I suppose you want to know about all those women back in England,” he volunteered. “They meant nothing, Alice.”

“Not even the golden-haired beauty you kissed that night?”

Gunn brought Alice’s hand to his mouth and placed his lips against her warm palm. “Especially not Lady Cynthia,” he whispered.

“Then why do you still talk about her in your sleep?” Alice ventured. “In the wagon you spoke her name several times.”

“I had no idea you knew of my nightmares,” he said softly, though genuinely surprised.

“From what I remember of Lady Cynthia, she’d seem rather out of place in a nightmare.”

“You knew her, Alice?”

“I saw her that one night. You were kissing her as if she meant the world to you.”

“I never loved her,” he answered quickly. “Our relationship meant nothing. I was only one in her long line of lovers. She flirted for sport and bedded out of boredom. I deeply regret having been one of her diversions.”

Alice grew even more nervous when Gunn fell silent, obviously waiting for her to say something. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I won’t tell you that my marriage to Lord Geoffrey meant nothing. I loved my husband.”

“As any good wife should,” Gunn replied. “If I were your husband, I would expect you to love me.” His tone softened as he added, “I put that badly. I would
hope
that you’d love me.”

Alice felt her cheeks grow hot. Her legs felt weak and trembly. She hadn’t expected him to speak of love and marriage this early in the evening. She’d assumed he would work up to it gradually. Made bold by Gunn’s straightforwardness, she asked, “Would you want children?”

He smoothed the side of his hand along her cheek. “Of course. What man doesn’t want a family? I’ve had none to speak of, no brothers or sisters. My mother died before I knew her, and my father was killed years ago. Lord Geoffrey seemed like my only family after that. Of course, we weren’t related, but he was the only one left who cared about what became of me.”

“It was the same with me,” Alice whispered, reluctant to tell him of her family history.

“I know about your mother, Alice,” Gunn said gently. “That word spread far and wide. Grim news always does, it seems. But what of your father?”

Alice was relieved that she didn’t have to explain the awful circumstances of her mother’s death to him. It was easier to talk about the father she had never known.

“My mum would never tell me who my father was. She said of him the same as she once said of you, ‘Call him bastard and it’s good enough.’”

Gunn laughed and turned to look at Alice. “Your mother said that of me? But why?”

“She thought you were dreadful. When I told her you carried me to my room and put me to bed that night, she thought you meant to…” Alice wanted out of this particular conversation. “You know… I told my mum you kissed me, that was all, but…”

“Oh, God, that was enough!” he groaned. “No wonder she asked Lord Geoffrey to give me that stern lecture. But I never meant you ill, Alice. I’d never touch a child.”

She leaned over the invisible dividing line between them and kissed his cheek. “I know that, Chris. But I’m not a child any longer.”

He half sat up in bed. “You’ve never called me Chris before. I like that. You don’t have to tell me you’re not a child, Alice. Believe me, I know.”

He leaned toward her and touched his lips to hers. His arms stole around her, drawing her to his side of the bed. Alice went weak all over as his tongue stole into her mouth. For a long time, they lay together, then slowly he drew away.

“Phew,” he breathed. “It’s going to be a long night if we keep that up.”

“We aren’t allowed to—?” Alice began.

“No,” he answered too quickly. “That’s part of bundling, that we keep cool heads. Otherwise, you wind up with that child we were discussing before its time.”

“But you said you wanted children.”

“Alice, don’t tempt me,” he cautioned. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I’m not used to going without what I need most.”

“And what might that be?”

He chuckled, then pulled her back into his arms. “You,” he growled into her ear.

A shiver ran through Alice’s whole body. He held her tightly, making her head feel light and her body feel heavy. “Chris, Chris,” she moaned. “Let’s just talk.”

“Whatever you say,” he whispered into her ear, letting his moist tongue punctuate his halfhearted agreement.

Alice leaned back against her goose-down pillow, breathing deeply, trying to rein in her emotions. Gunn seemed to be concentrating on the same task. While he was quiet and at a safe distance, she took advantage of the moment.

“I wish you could have read Lord Geoffrey’s letter.”

“The one I never received.”

She nodded in the darkness. “He let me read part of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid you’d be angry. You know, he wanted us to marry. He stated his case eloquently. He said we would be perfect for each other. I think it was a selfish wish on his part. He loved us both and he wanted us to love each other.”

Gunn moved closer and took Alice’s hand in his once more. “And did you come here planning to marry me?”

“I came here planning to marry a man who existed only in my imagination. I made him up from bits and pieces—my one meeting with you when I was only a child, a miniature that my husband had of you, and his many glorious tales of your fine character and passionate nature.”

Gunn laughed. “Well, Lord Geoffrey had the passionate part right anyway. But I suppose the rest of what you found fell far short of what you’d hoped for.”

Alice traced her fingertips across the back of Gunn’s hand. “I’ll admit that you came as a shock at first. You were not exactly what I had bargained for.”

“Could I ever be?” he asked softly.

Yes! Oh, yes! Alice wanted to shout. Instead, she answered his question with others of her own. “Even if you were the man of my dreams, could we ever be happy together? We seem so different. What did you think of me when we first met?”

“You won’t like it,” he admitted with guilt in his voice. “I thought, ‘Here comes trouble.’” When Alice made no reply, he went on. “I figured you for a weak-hearted, overpampered real ‘lady.’ You know, one of those women who simpers over the king and allows herself to be bedded by any man at court out of sheer boredom. I thought either your husband had sent you packing or you’d crossed the ocean to find, pardon the expression, new pricks to tease.”

Alice was shocked, but she kept her voice level, hoping not to show her reaction. “Is that why you pulled that three-feather trick on me?”

“Not really. By that time I’d changed my opinion of you. I wanted you, but you seemed smitten with Hargrave. Seeing you kissing him came as a severe blow to my manhood. The three feathers seemed a way, childish as it was, to get even. Do you understand?”

Alice turned on her side, facing Gunn. “I suppose in some twisted way I understand. Still, it seems odd that Ishani would have gone along with it.”

He replied simply, “She was gambling, too. Guessing you’d turn me down.”

“Did you send her away because of me, Chris?” Alice ventured.

“No,” he answered honestly. “She left because it was time for her to go.”

“Did you agree with her decision?”

“She never gave me a chance to agree or disagree. She made up her own mind and went when she was ready. You have to understand about Indians, Alice. They move like the wind in the trees or birds with the changes of season. Something inside them tells them when a thing is right or wrong. When she finally realized she’d made a mistake running away from her people, she decided she should return to them.”

Alice did not like his answer. She had wanted Gunn to tell her that he had made his choice, choosing her over his Abenaki maid. Her lips pursed in a soft pout and she crossed her arms over her breasts.

“I don’t think we should talk about Ishani anymore,” Gunn said gruffly.

This annoyed Alice. Of course he didn’t want to talk about her. She had walked out on him. Probably no other woman in his life—and there had been many, she reminded herself—had ever left Christopher Gunn without so much as a good-bye.

His hand reached over her crossed arms and he turned her to face him. “Alice, don’t be that way. Please. Ishani is still a child. You were never in competition with her nor with any other woman. And, believe me, you’ll never take second place to anyone.”

He traced her pouting lips with one fìnger. When her mouth eased to a full, round O, his finger slipped inside. She clamped down gently with her teeth, holding him prisoner, and smoothed her tongue over his rough flesh. Why she was doing this, she had no idea. But the gesture gave her a feeling of power, of mastery over Gunn.

Her supremacy was short-lived. While she still sucked at his imprisoned fìnger, Gunn’s other hand found her breast. At first he stroked gently, then he clasped it in his warm palm. A moment later he was teasing her nipple through the soft fabric of her bodice. In spite of her best efforts to ignore what he was doing to her, her defiant body began to move with a definite rhythm. She willed herself to lie still, but it was no use.

Alice released his finger, hoping he would stop what he was doing. Of course he didn’t, because he knew she really wanted him to continue. When a woman’s body moved the way Alice’s was, her desire was all too clear.

With both his hands now free, he set the other one to work as well. Now Alice’s breasts ached as Gunn stroked and teased and fondled her.

“Damn all these clothes,” he muttered.

Alice almost laughed aloud. The bundling rules were clearly defined, according to Mary Phips. “Both parties shall be and remain fully clothed,” she had stated to Alice earlier as if reading from some holy writ. So Alice wore not only her blue brocade gown, but underskirts, petticoats, and all the usual intimate attire. Gunn, trying to find bare flesh, was fighting a losing battle. Or so Alice thought.

“There,” he said triumphantly. “That’s better!”

Alice, lost in thought, didn’t realize what he was doing until she felt his hands on the trembling flesh of her bare breasts.

“Oh, Chris, you mustn’t!” she cried, sure that any moment Mary and Will Phips along with half of the good citizens of Boston would come crashing through the door, shouting, “Aha! We’ve caught you red-handed!” Red-faced, Alice thought with a stab of guilt. “Chris, really, we can’t,” she begged.

“Tell me to stop because you want me to, Alice, and I will.”

But his hands were so gentle, so warm, so knowing. She sighed and leaned back, letting herself relax and enjoy the things he was doing to her. When he covered both her breasts with the palms of his hands and pressed, she felt as if he were holding her heart close. When his work-roughened thumbs made lazy circles over her nipples, they rose and hardened.

“Alice, you look so beautiful,” he murmured.

“You liar! There’s no light—you can’t even see me,” she taunted.

“I can feel your beauty,” he whispered, “and taste it.”

The next instant his lips were at her right breast. His tongue smoothed over her once and then again. Finally, with agonizing, fire-filled suckling, he drew her nipple into his mouth, slowly, ever so slowly, until she thought she would faint in his arms from wanting it done. His teeth came down gently, imprisoning her. While he held her captive, his tongue lashed her tender, aching flesh, smoothed it, teased it, tortured it until Alice could bear no more.

“Bite me,” she seethed. “Oh, bite me!”

Gunn’s teeth sank down harder.

“Oh, yes, Chris, yes!”

He released her so quickly that she felt as if the world had stopped spinning. She reached out to draw him back to her, but he pressed her away from him. Holding her bodice open with one hand, he dipped his head to her left breast. Again, his mouth found the nipple, but this time he did not suck, he licked. His tongue circled, stroked, prodded, bringing new fire to her blood. She gasped, trying to speak, but words failed her as Gunn sank his teeth—not fiercely, but not gently, either—into her breast.

After a time he drew away and fell back to his side of the bed. They both lay still, staring up at the dark ceiling. The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Gunn reached over and touched Alice’s hand.