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off her and said, “There’s nothing to be happy about, and love certainly has no part of this situation. Now go out to the well and fetch some water, then you can make our beds. I’m too tired even to think of supper.”
    Pegeen took her time chatting at the well, but a short while later both of them went to bed. While Peg’s snores soon filled the room, Alice tossed and turned on her hard cot. Every time she closed her lids, she saw Chris Gunn’s evergreen eyes shining at her. She could still feel his mouth on hers, his arms holding her close. The ache that had begun with his first kiss still throbbed deep inside her.
    Finally she gave up trying to sleep. Pulling her warm cloak over her gown, she threw more wood on the fire and sat down at the table to think things through.
    Chris Gunn, meanwhile, joined a group of his friends in the common room at the main barracks. They were celebrating their victory over the Flemish pirates, though Gunn was simply trying to delay his return to his cabin in the forest beyond the fort. He hadn’t yet figured out what to do with the young Indian maid who had moved in on him two days before.
    He shared several tankards of ale with his cronies, but did little talking. He had too much on his mind to pay close attention to his surroundings. Crowding his thoughts was a certain blue-eyed, golden-haired, honey-lipped Englishwoman. He had half a mind to storm back into her cabin and steal her away in the middle of the night. The Indians often kidnapped their brides. Why shouldn’t he?
    “Because I’m too damned civilized,” he muttered under his breath.
    A strong hand clapped down on his shoulder. “It’s a bad sign, my friend, when a man starts talking to himself.”
    Gunn turned quickly to find Will Phips grinning at him. Sir William Phips, he corrected himself. It was still hard for Gunn to grasp it: this youngest son out of a backwoods brood of twenty-six, born and bred in Wiscasset, Maine, who had taught himself to read and write and build ships, had married a wealthy widow, then promptly left for the Indies in search of treasure and had actually found enough Spanish silver and gold to earn a knighthood from King James.
    “Will, you old sonuvabitch! What are you doing back at the fort? I thought you were still in Boston, enjoying the comforts of home and wife.”
    “Mary wept her heart out when I decided to leave early, but you can’t keep a Maine man out of the woods for long. I hear I missed some excitement this afternoon. Pirates, eh? And pretty ladies besides.”
    Chris frowned and murmured, “One pretty lady and her servant—not a bad piece either, mind you.”
    “Ah, yes, old Lord Geoffrey’s widow. Her serving girl told the whole sad tale to the men. Her predicament’s the talk of the fort already. And you figure to ease Lady Alice’s pain, is that it?”
    “Am I that transparent?”
    “Any man is who’s decided it’s time,” Phips said with a laugh.
    Gunn feigned innocence. “Time for what?”
    “Settling down, taking a wife, raising a family. I’ve seen all the signs, Gunn. You’re a prime target for matrimony.”
    Chris avoided looking the other man in the eye. “So you say. You just want all your friends married off since you and Mary tied the knot. You’re jealous as hell of my freedom, that’s all.”
    Phips draped an arm around Gunn’s broad shoulders. “Chris, Chris, when are you going to own up to the truth? I’ve seen the way you act when you’re at my house in Boston. You’re a different man. Talk about jealousy—you’re the one with envy painted all over your face. Admit it, you’d give your right arm for a woman half as fine as Mary Hull.”
    Gunn shook his head and took another swig of ale before he spoke. “Do you know how damn long it’s been since I held a blushing, sweet-smelling Englishwoman in my arms and kissed her rosy lips?”
    Phips’s laughter roared through the room. Then he leaned down and whispered, “About an hour,