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wonderful. Thank you for explaining things to me. I suppose since Mr. Gunn and I are to be married, Ishani will soon return to her own people.”
    The trapper pursed his lips and shook his head. “It don’t work that way, Lady Alice. She’s still in on the deal, see? Gunn’ll keep both of you—his wife and his Indian gal.”
    “Oh, no! I’d never agree to anything like…”
    “But you just done it,” he insisted. “You swore on the feathers in front of all these witnesses. You got to now.”
    The three feathers slipped from Alice’s fingers and fluttered to the ground about her feet. “No!” she gasped. “Oh, no!”
    She turned and fled back to her room.
    “Bolt the door!” she cried, hurrying past a surprised Pegeen. “Don’t let anyone in, especially not Christopher Gunn.”
    “But, Lady Alice—”
    “No buts , Pegeen, just do as you’re told.”
    Ishani stayed close to Gunn the whole time they were at the fort. She was highly sensitive to the hungry stares of the other men. She knew, too, that most of them considered Abenaki women fair game. Without Gunn close to protect her, she would have met an undesirable fate by now. These white men confounded her. It was as if they lived by their manhood alone. They could do without food, without drink, without shelter but they could not be content without women. All Abenaki knew of this craving of theirs. Because of it, more than one of their forts had fallen into Indian hands. The ploy, old and tired as it was, of sending Abenaki women to the gates begging for food never failed. The Indian women were not starving, but the white men always were. So the gates opened. And the soldiers were always surprised by the attack that followed.
    Even in the infirmary the strange, fever-bright eyes of the sick and wounded followed her every move. She hung close to Gunn, keeping her own eyes downcast.
    Soon they would leave, he had promised. She was glad. Only one thing concerned her: Would the white woman go with them? Gunn had assured Ishani that she would not. But she had seen the way the woman looked at Gunn. Her pale eyes spoke with the same hunger she had seen in those of the men so often. She had promised on the three feathers, but if the woman came, could she keep her promise?
    Ishani thought about it all day. Sharing Gunn, she decided, would be better than not having him at all, but she couldn’t understand his thinking. He acted as if he didn’t want her for his woman. But how could that be? He always smiled at her and talked to her when he came to camp to meet with the Frenchman. He even brought her presents from time to time—a shiny shell, a pretty pebble, or a bird’s empty nest. Any Abenaki brave who treated her so sweetly would do so only because he wanted her for his own. She guessed that Gunn had not asked for her, knowing her father would never let her wed an Englishman, that she was promised already to the powerful savage Scarappi, whom she feared with all her heart. So Ishani had simply made the decision on her own. If her sister could marry the Frenchman, Ishani could have Gunn.
    “Hargrave, can you hear me?” Gunn leaned over the feverish captain. “Listen to me. This is important.”
    “Gunn, is that you?” The captain blinked several times, trying to clear his blurred vision. His mouth was dry, as if it had been stuffed with cannon wadding. His chest and head ached. The last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone, especially Christopher Gunn.
    “It’s about Lady Alice,” Gunn went on.
    Hargrave roused slightly at the sound of her name. He’d had the oddest dream last night. She’d been with him. She’d kissed him. He’d wanted so desperately to pull her down to his cot and make love to her. But before he’d been able to gather his strength, she was gone. He could still taste her mouth on his. Most of his fevered dreams were not so pleasant.
    “Lady Alice… yes, what about her?” he managed.
    “Do you intend to marry her?” Gunn