Silver Tears by Becky Lee Weyrich Page B

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.
    Still nursing his bruised pride, Hargrave walked slowly toward Alice’s door. What could she possibly want with him? Everyone in the fort was whispering this morning about how Gunn had carried her off to his cabin and kept her there for most of the night, not returning her until long after dark. Obviously, Lady Alice had made up her mind what she meant to do, and just as obviously, Christopher Gunn, in his usual forceful manner, had helped her decision along. No doubt she was packing to move in with Gunn permanently.
    Captain Hargrave steeled himself for the worst possible news as he knocked on Alice’s door.
    “Oh, Jon, do come in,” she invited with a sweet smile. “I’ve had Peg make tea for us. It’s such a chilly morning.” She gripped her arms and gave an exaggerated shiver. “I’ll simply never survive the Maine winter, I’m sure.”
    Hargrave said little beyond “good morning” as he entered the room. He was too busy observing Alice to make idle conversation. Her face looked cheery enough, but there was a strange expression in her bright blue eyes. She kept darting glances here and there, as if she expected to find someone at the window or in a corner spying on the two of them. Or perhaps she was merely unsettled by being alone with another man, after having been alone with Gunn so recently. Hargrave’s anger flared at the thought. What had the brute done to her?
    “Shall I leave the door open, Lady Alice, since your girl is not here?”
    “Don’t be silly, Jon. It’s far too cold outside. Besides, who worries about conventions in this place?”
    Her answer distressed him further. All the while that she was on board his ship, she had been consumed with concern for conventions. Why, suddenly, did such things no longer matter to her?
    They sat down. Alice poured tea from one of the silver pots she’d brought from England, then they sipped from delicate china cups. The silence between them stretched on and on.
    At last Hargrave cleared his throat to regain her attention. Alice was staring out the window, her mind seemingly a million miles away. “I want to thank you for saving my life yesterday, Lady Alice.”
    Seeming to force herself, Alice reached across the table and touched his hand, then quickly drew her fingers away. “Please, Jon, there’s no need for such formality. It’s simply Alice to you. Think of all we’ve been through together.” Again she smiled