5 August (before dawn)
"I told you to stay away. Why did you disobey me, girls?"
Alice stared at her father, shocked. It had been two years since he had been posted to America. In all that time, she imagined their reunion would be a happy one—never anything like this.
Cora recovered first, demanding answers. Her father had sent three couriers to Webb, and none had made it. Now Webb didn't even know they had a siege. There would be no reinforcements. They were on their own.
Alice watched the news destroy her father. Her strong, fierce, loving Papa, now with fresh lines on his face and an awful scar beneath his ear. For the first time in her life, she watched him fight despair. She knew all too well how hopeless the situation was—understood too that her father felt the full responsibility of it all. He had not only the lives of his men to worry about, but the lives of the women and children here too. Now, his own children.
She thought finding him would fix everything. Instead, he needed all the help he could get. She would do her best to be there for him.
When he managed to recover himself, he looked to her and her sister.
"What happened to you?"
"On the George Road. Attacked." Duncan was unable to look any of them in the eye—as if he should have been able to prevent the attack himself. He would have died for them and still felt that it was not enough.
"We're fine," Cora added.
No one was asking the relevant questions anymore, so Alice had to.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes." He ground out the word, an obvious lie.
"What will happen here, Papa?"
"It'll be all right, girl."
It was what people said when they didn't know. When it wasn't going to be all right.
He pulled her close, holding her as he did when she was a child. She was fully grown now, but she did not resist, nor did she press his lie. Not here, not now.
"This Magua led us into it," Heyward added.
Papa stiffened and Alice's eyes flew open. She pulled back to watch him once more. Since the ambush, she had assumed that Magua had intercepted a courier and taken his place—not that her father had sent him himself. His judgment would have led to their deaths, and he knew it.
It turned out that even Papa could make mistakes.
Uncas watched Alice study her father, concern for him written all over her face. She was always there for others. Did she never take care of herself?
"Eighteen killed," Heyward continued. "These men came to our aid; they guided us here."
Alice met his gaze. She was a vision in candlelight, her mussed hair a golden halo around her head. But still, she seemed sad, lost. He thought he wouldn't have to see that look in her eyes anymore. That he could make things right for her by bringing her here. He had never been so wrong.
Uncas acknowledged Colonel Munro's thanks with quirk of his mouth, a grimace taking over his smile. It would be better not to attempt another one.
"Do you need anything?"
His family were not mercenaries; they needed no reward. It was on their honor to protect the girls. Yet, there were practicalities to be considered.
Nathaniel asked for powder. Typical of him to think about his rifle first. As for Uncas, all he wanted was some food. Well, Munro's daughter too, but that might be asking too much.
"Indebted to you."
The Colonel noticed Alice's despondency and embraced her once more. Uncas wondered if he was concerned because he had never seen it in her before, or because he had.
"Go with your sister, Alice. It'll be all right, girl. It'll be all right."
After the girls left, Uncas took a moment to relax enough to surreptitiously hold his arm against his still bleeding wound. He hadn't wanted Alice to see his pain, to worry any more than she already had. He straightened as they made a plan to get reinforcements. It carried risks, but anything he could do to get them out of this mess was worth it.
"Somethin' else. Cameron's cabin. Frontier cabin."
Uncas gathered himself at Nathaniel's words. For a precious few minutes he had not thought of them, and the reminder hit him hard.
"Came upon it yesterday and it was burnt out. Everyone murdered. It was Ottawa, allied to the French."
"Aye." Munro turned, flint in his eyes. "So?"
Uncas looked to his brother, disbelieving. Was this the same man who had been so affected by his daughters' hard won safety? He could feel Nathaniel try to tamp down on his anger, but still it leaked out.
"It was a war party. That means they're going to be attacking up and down the frontier."
"Thank you, sir." They were dismissed.
Uncas wouldn't stand for it. "People here—Mohawks, settlers—have family out there!"
"That'll be all, sir!"
Nathaniel switched to Mohican as he addressed Uncas. "We'll tell the others, get them out—"
"Let's go." At Chingachgook's command, his family filed out of Munro's quarters, seething.
Alice and Cora were ushered away and to the laundry, where they were able to clean up behind some hanging linens while Mrs. McCann procured new dresses.
Alice dabbed at her face, neck, and arms with a damp cloth. Conscious of the others in the room, she kept her voice low.
"Did you see the new scar below Papa's ear?"
"Why, no. But it's probably nothing."
"He seems stretched so thin. Is he always like this on campaign?"
"It's probably the shock of seeing us arrive in such a state."
Alice nodded. Following Cora's lead, she opted not to wash her hair in order to get to the infirmary as soon as possible. They needed all the help they could get, and Alice knew that a certain Mohican was sure to be there soon.
He seemed fine despite the blood, she reminded herself. He had said as much after they left the lake, when he held her arms, and she reached out to press a palm over his beating heart. She had thought he wanted to keep his distance from her that day, but maybe he had simply been looking out for them. Because when she met his eyes, he had stepped closer. He—my God, would he have tried to kiss her?
She dropped the skirt she was handed and gaped.
Would she have let him?
Cora glanced at her in concern. "Alice?"
"Yes—right—nothing."
Face burning, she snatched the skirt up and put it on over her shift. She was relieved to be rid of her side hoops. They had proved to be cumbersome in the forest, and would certainly not be needed here.
What would her old nurse think of her? Disregarding proper dress, being held by an Indian warrior alone in the woods, dreaming of being kissed by him—oh, because she did want him to kiss her. Desperately.
She avoided Cora's eyes as she buttoned up her new bodice, as if her sister would be able to read her thoughts. But then, Cora rarely could. It would be Uncas she had to watch out for, or rather, avoid making eye contact with at all costs.
Or should she be doing so instead? Should she be... flirting with him? Alice hadn't the faintest idea how; the very thought made her heart pound in fright.
She thought of the ladies in London who would giggle and display their ample bosoms to their full advantage, or else make a pretext to be caught unattended in a garden. How would that even work here? 'Oh, la, Uncas, I just happen to be alone in the magazine—were you looking for gunpowder too?'
No, that would never do. And neither would showcasing her figure; her new bodice was a bit large on her, and her shift modestly cut. Not for the first time, she felt rather plain next to Cora. With her sister's far more womanly proportions, it was no wonder men had been giving her so much attention.
At least Alice's new clothes being suitably clean were an improvement on her filthy riding habit. Now properly attired, she marched out from behind the linens.
"Shall we head to the infirmary?"
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh, right. Starving." Blast it. "Perhaps we can nip on over to the kitchen first."
They thanked Mrs. McCann and headed out, only to be intercepted by their father. They were to dine with him back in his quarters; all hopes of meeting Uncas in the infirmary were quashed.
"Glad to see you looking refreshed, my girl."
Alice managed a small smile. This time, she would strive to keep a better handle on her emotions.
It was not easy.
Over a humble supper of stew and bread, Cora went into more detail on their attack. Alice watched her father carefully as her sister spoke of Magua, but he was silent. With a sinking feeling, she realized she wouldn't get any answers without breaking a few eggs.
"Papa, it was mentioned that the man had..." She tried to think of a delicate way to phrase it and failed. "Well, he tried to murder Cora in particular."
Her father looked shocked and appalled while Cora pursed her lips. Perhaps she hadn't been going to share that bit of information. Well, it was too late now, and answers were more important.
"Could it have something to do with blood vengeance?"
Cora and their father shared a disconcerted look.
"Who's been telling you of such things?" Papa demanded.
"No one—that is, not to me... I overheard Mr. Poe speak to Duncan about it."
"Well... it seems that's not the only exaggeration Mr. Poe has made."
Cora started. "What?"
Alice wasn't sure what he was referring to, but before Papa could completely brush it aside, she pressed further.
"He also said he was a Huron and not a Mohawk."
Her father leaned back in his seat, face stony and eyes going distant.
"What reason would that creature have to get in your good graces, become your courier, only to send us into an ambush?"
He returned his attention to her, frowning. She had pressed him too hard. Cora just watched her sadly.
"This is war, Alice. There is no greater reason than that. And I'm sorry I ever brought you into it. I should have left you to your studies in London."
"But I wanted to come, and now that I'm here, I believe I deserve answers. I am not the child you left behind!" Too late, she realized her voice climbed as she spoke until she was positively shrill. It was too much for Papa. He got to his feet in one swift movement, wooden chair grating against the floor.
"I must return to my duties. Cora, please look after your sister. You will stay here tonight; I'll be with the other officers."
Alice rose to her feet, contrite. "Papa..."
"Get some rest, girl. You've had a trying couple of days. We'll talk again on the morrow." He embraced her and her sister once more. "It is so good to see you again." Then he was gone.
Alice slowly returned to her seat, staring at her stew. She mechanically resumed eating.
"You mustn't question him like that, Alice. It's not like Papa is when we're at home. Here he's simply the Colonel, and he's in charge."
"So we must be good soldiers and follow orders?"
Cora sighed. "That's the way of it."
Alice was not fooled. It may be sound advice, but she knew if Cora had been half as upset as she, her sister would not have stood for it.
"Cora, are you not concerned?"
"No. Magua was foiled. Whatever reason he believed he had no longer matters."
"It matters to me." Perceiving that she was sounding petulant, she sighed and stood. Cora did the same, and at the clinking of bowls, Alice realized they had to clear their own table. She did so in silence.
"Do you still want to help me in the infirmary?"
Alice jerked her head up at that. How could she have forgotten?
"Oh, yes! Do you think Uncas has been looked after yet?"
Cora smiled with approval. "We'd better make sure."
"Do let's."
They hurried out to dispose of the dishes in the kitchen, then went to find Mr. Phelps.
Uncas's family took time to cool off and assess over a supper of British army rations. They would still let the militia know about the raids, and let them decide for themselves whether they stayed.
As Uncas finished the gruel that was supposedly once oats, peas, and pork, his father chastised him for not having his wound tended to yet. The pain and bleeding had lessened so that it had been easy to ignore when more important matters had to be attended to.
Uncas acquiesced, knowing pride would do him no good if the cut never healed properly. He went to the surgery as Nathaniel tracked down their friends. He would convince one to act as courier (as they themselves were spent), then borrow rifles from the others. As angry as they were with Col. Munro, preventing the fort from falling was the priority.
To his surprise, he found Mr. Phelps taking a break outside while Cora Munro tended to an injured soldier. She finished wrapping his shoulder with parting instructions to take it easy then acknowledged Uncas with a tired smile.
"We've been expecting you, sir. Please."
She motioned for him to sit on the table before turning to wash her hands in a basin. As he hoisted himself up, Alice came trundling in with an armful of blue fabric that was once Cora's dress.
"You're sure about this? I'm sure I could salvage…" Seeing Uncas, she stilled. He smiled, remembering way she had done so after he saw her cast her things into the river. Wary doe.
"Yes, just place it in the pile of rags over there, thank you."
Alice did as instructed then wandered over to her sister's side, not meeting his eyes. Her new dress wasn't tailored for her, but Uncas preferred it. It was less stiff, allowing for more of her body to move, to be seen. His eyes trailed down her neck to her exposed collarbone, then back up again.
She hadn't been this shy on the shore of the lake. She had looked up at him almost adoringly, full of trust. He'd wanted to reach down, pull her close. Kiss those full lips that he had touched the night before. Would she have responded? For a wild moment, he was sure she would.
"Can I help?"
Turning to Uncas with a clean rag in hand, Cora nodded towards a medicine chest. "You can thread the needle."
Alice did so and returned once more. Dousing a clean rag with alcohol, Cora nodded to his shirt.
"If you would, sir."
Uncas pulled it up so she could clean his injury. At Alice's sharp inhale, Cora glanced at her but seemed unsurprised. Finished with her task, she held out her hand for the needle. Alice passed it to her, still staring at the wound as Uncas studied her face.
"I'm going to start suturing now."
Cora's warning seemed to be more for her sister than himself. Alice nodded. As the needle pricked his skin, she blanched.
"I'm… some air," she gasped out and hurried away.
Uncas turned to watch her go, concerned. She sat outside the room on a crate. "Will she be all right?"
"In a minute or two." Cora smiled sadly. She pierced his skin and pulled the catgut taught. "It's a shame that this is Alice's first campaign."
As she continued to stitch him up, he appreciated the opportunity to learn a little more about Alice. He suspected Cora simply kept up the conversation to keep his mind off the pain. He appreciated that too.
"Why would your father send for you in the middle of a war?" The Munro girls were not like the army wives who had nowhere else to go. They had enough money to enjoy a pampered existence far from any conflict.
"There is always a war, sir." Cora spoke as if he said something ridiculous. "I first joined my father on his campaigns eight years hence. I would have been here sooner if Alice hadn't joined society."
"Society?"
"Oh, yes. Parties, dancing, that sort of drivel. That's the world Alice belongs in, not that she realizes it yet. More than once I've caught her sneaking away from the crowd to raid our host's library."
The image made Uncas smile. It was cut short by the next stitch.
"She hoped to embark on a Grand Tour of Europe one day. Then the Great War of the Empire began, and here we are instead." Finished with suturing, she sighed. "I wish she would stop pushing herself and get some rest."
Uncas wanted to point out that she was hardly going to do so when Cora was at work, but refrained.
Nathaniel entered then. As he helped himself to some cloth, Cora finished dressing Uncas's wound.
"It will seep, and then it's going to draw."
"Thank you, miss."
"'Bout done holding hands with Miss Munro?"
Uncas glanced up at Nathaniel and smiled. He had attributed much of his brother's pursuit of the elder Miss Munro to rivalry with the Major. It seemed there was more to it than that.
"We've got some work to do."
Uncas adjusted his shirt over the new bandage and hopped off the table, happy to leave the pair alone. He might have time to exchange a few words with Alice. Make sure she was all right.
He looked over to where she had been sitting—but Alice was gone now. He searched until he finally spotted her just outside, talking to Jack Winthrop in the shadows.
She was smiling.
A pretty girl like her, he should have known that it wouldn't take long for the men of the fort to notice her. But did it have to be Jack?
He stopped and took a different route to the bastion, maintaining his stoicism. He was going to go shoot somebody.
Alice waited outside the surgery, hoping to talk to Uncas after Cora finished sewing him up. Make sure he was all right.
In the mean time, Nathaniel strolled in with a blond man who appeared to serve in the militia. She thought Nathaniel spotted her. Instead he turned his back to say something to the other man, who gave a wry smile and shook his head skeptically.
Uninterested, Alice didn't pay much attention. She glanced up at Uncas, then back down at the floor desolately. If not for them, he wouldn't have to be stuck in this hellish prison. He wouldn't have gotten hurt in he first place. And when Alice wanted to help, she was worse than useless. She would have to stay away entirely until Cora was done dressing his wound.
Nathaniel walked by with Mr. Phelps. Moments later, Alice was surprised to see a pair of boots stop in front of her.
"Miss Munro."
She raised her eyes to the man. He was leaning on his rifle at perfect ease, grinning. He had some audacity, not waiting to be formally introduced to her. But perhaps that's just how it was in America—or in a fort under siege.
"Captain Jack Winthrop. I'm a friend of Nathaniel's."
She gave a small nod of acknowledgement, then glanced at Uncas again. Cora was cutting a strip of cloth to bandage him. He still held his shirt up, and now that she was over the shock of seeing his bloody laceration, she observed that he was exposing his bare side and upper thigh.
Alice swallowed and looked back to Jack, whose eyes sparkled with amusement. It made her wary.
"Do you happen to know where I could find some blankets?"
She nodded and led him back the way he came, surprised the Captain hadn't noticed the stack of blankets on the crates as he walked in. Then again, it was dark outside.
"Thank you, miss."
"You're welcome, Captain Winthrop." She gave a small curtsy and made to return to her vigil.
"Heard what happened to you on the way here." He sounded serious now.
She stopped and looked back at him.
"Glad our boys found you when they did."
She nodded, and gave a small smile. "You know them well?"
"Known 'em for years." His smile returned. "They have a reputation around these parts."
"Do they?" Her eyes perked up. She wanted to know more.
"Oh yes. Nobody crosses a Mohican. The enemy even has names for them."
"Really?"
"They call Uncas the Bounding Elk, on account of his strength and speed. None can match him."
"I believe that," Alice grinned. She peeked over Capt. Winthrop's shoulder, only to see Uncas's retreating back. Disappointed that she missed him, her shoulders sagged marginally. The Captain craned his neck to follow her line of sight. He was still smiling.
Alice noticed Duncan marching out of the fort with several companies of soldiers. He hadn't had a chance to rest. What was he doing?
"Do you know what's going on?" She asked, frowning.
He nodded. "Sending a courier to Webb. Should have reinforcements here the day after tomorrow." He looked up at the sky which began to show hints of a gray dawn. "Make that tomorrow."
"Oh, thank goodness." She positively wilted with relief, and he gave an amused nod. "But, why the soldiers?"
"Provides a diversion while our illustrious Mohicans cover the courier from above." He nodded to where Uncas and Nathaniel were ascending the bastion. "It's a good thing we have Hawkeye with us. Now, he's known as the Long Rifle."
Frowning, she gave a distracted "mmm" of acknowledgment.
"I'll be off. Pleasure to meet you, miss." He tipped his tricorne hat.
"You too, Captain."
After he left, she realized he forgot to take a blanket. Well, he knew where they were now. She watched the last of the soldiers exit the fort then ran back into the surgery.
Cora didn't want to hear it.
"Oh, don't tell me until after it's over. Otherwise I never get anything done for all the worry."
Alice looked around sheepishly. "I suppose… if you need me to…"
Cora waved her away. "Go on, it's nearly day. I'll show you around tomorrow. Later today, I suppose…" she wiped her brow and began preparing for the influx of casualties the diversion would provide.
Alice ran back outside. She wanted to watch Duncan from the ramparts, but knew she would not be allowed up there while there was a skirmish on the other side.
Perhaps it was for the best. She'd probably just freeze in terror.
She saw Nathaniel wave to the courier, and off he went. Uncas waited until the last second to kneel in front of the embrasure, in full view of enemy sharpshooters… like the ones by the lake earlier.
It was a good thing they were dead.
As Nathaniel and Uncas took turns firing one rifle after the other, she felt a strange mix of sadness and pride. Of all the people in the fort, their marksmanship was the most trusted.
But how many lives would they be forced to take?
Jack had finally deigned to join them on the bastion.
"I just had an enlightening chat with the younger Miss Munro. Charming girl." To Uncas, he added: "I can see why you put off heading west."
Uncas bristled, but was saved from doing anything stupid by his brother's announcement of the fate of the Camerons. The altered mood ended all frivolities, and Jack called a militia meeting by the west bastion. Uncas now had the concentration he needed to guard their friend who was acting as courier.
Eventually Nathaniel took down the last man. Their courier was on his own now. Uncas hoped the two loaded pistols in his belt would be enough to see him to safety between here and Ft. Edward.
He waited until the man was out of sight before releasing his breath and looking around. Blood red streaks in the sky heralded a new day.
The regiment returned. The Major looked like he had been through hell, but maintained perfect composure as he marched in. He was in his element now.
Once the company was at ease, Alice ran to the man, clutching his hands in relief. He smiled wanly, no doubt wishing there was a different Munro girl waiting for him instead.
Ungrateful bastard.
Uncas turned away, taking his time to collect his things as the others wandered off. Maybe he was wrong—reading too far into things. Maybe the spark of interest he had seen in Alice's eyes was mere curiosity. She clearly had other options here. Better ones.
Swinging his rifle over his shoulder, he slowly made his way down the ramp, trailing far behind the others. He looked forward to the oblivion of sleep to tame his restless mind. He had to be encroaching on thirty hours without it.
But then, there she was.
Standing at the bottom of the ramp, Alice watched him, her head tilted to the side. Waiting.
He went to her in a daze.
Her big eyes looked up at him, appearing as exhausted as he felt. What was she doing still up?
"You need to sleep."
"You too." She paused. "I heard the courier made it through."
He nodded.
"That's good."
With his confidence shot, Uncas knew he was floundering. But she had sought him out in the end, didn't she?
Alice inclined her head towards his shirt. "I could mend that for you."
He looked down at the filthy, torn cloth. "I can take care of it."
"Please, let me be useful. Cora stitched you up; I can manage a shirt."
"All right." An impulse struck him. Perhaps it was the frustration or the lack of sleep, but he was feeling reckless.
He removed his rifle from his shoulder, handing it over. She took it hesitantly, frowning in confusion. Eyes still on her, he removed his belt, and handed that over as well.
She blinked.
Finally, he tugged his shirt up and over his head.
She stared at the bandage around his waist before her eyes crept over to his arms and finally, his bare chest.
A slow smile crept across his lips as he exchanged the shirt for his belt and refastened it around his waist. He took his rifle next.
"Admiring my tattoos?"
Her eyes flicked up to his and away as she tried to hide a smile. The light was still dim, but he was pretty sure she blushed.
"Do they carry meaning?"
Enjoying himself, Uncas held on to the subject. He presented his arms and gestured at the triangles. "For strength,"—he indicated the lines around his wrists—"protection."
Alice studied the tattoos more leisurely now that she had a reason to.
He pointed to the design across his upper chest, a permanent wampum belt. "Last of my tribe." Finally, he gestured to the tattoo beneath it, opposite his heart. "A fox, for its spirit. My namesake."
"Not an elk?" She looked back up, startled out of her trance.
He grinned. "Have you been hearing stories about me, Miss Munro?"
He adored that sweet smile.
"Please. Call me Alice." She seemed unable to hold his gaze.
"Alice."
Yes, she was definitely blushing. After a moment, she stepped back. "Well, I'd better…," With one last glance, she clutched his shirt in both hands and walked away. He watched her leave, pink ribbons trailing out from her braids. He wondered how long that golden hair was, and what she would look like with it tumbling down and around her shoulders.
Ian approached. The man used his rifle heavily for support, but he was grinning.
"Wanted to know if you'd join us at the west bastion, but I see you've been busy."
Uncas waved him away. "Whatever you're planning, I don't want a part of."
"Should say the same for you." Ian stopped, his smile falling away. "I hate to ruin your fun, but you ought to pay heed."
He glanced around, though nobody else seem to have noticed his conversation with Alice. A shirtless Indian wasn't an unusual sight here.
Sighing, Uncas leaned on his own rifle. "I know."
"Colonel's daughter though, well done."
Uncas shrugged at Ian's resumed grin, skeptical.
"Lad, if Mary looked at me like that before I left for this God-forsaken fort, we'd have a babe by spring." He paused, musing. "Come to think of it, we may yet."
Uncas laughed, then considered. If it were possible, if Alice truly reciprocated in any way… he grimaced. What was he doing? He shook his head and looked up at the sky. The sun was now properly rising.
Ian had become pensive.
"Mary safe?" He knew well how near their cabin was to the attacks.
"Should be. She's with family. But with what happened to the Camerons… it's hard to countenance."
His voice broke on the last word and they stood in silence, mourning.
"Get some sleep, you look like hell." Ian nodded to Uncas's bandage. He waved off Uncas's offer to help him to the west bastion.
"Good luck, Ian."
"God help us all."
Somehow Alice found herself outside the laundry, her mind a puzzle of confusion.
Why hadn't he kissed her? She asked him to address her by her first name, for Heaven's sake. The only men who did that were her father and Duncan, whom she had known most of her life.
She stopped and held the maroon calico shirt in front of her. It was still warm from Uncas's skin, and the lake had not entirely washed away the scent of the woods. She would have been hesitant to launder it had it not also contained layers of gunpowder, sweat, and blood.
Alice entered the laundry. Now that it was safe to exit the fort for the day, she happily discovered fresh water was being drawn from the lake in preparation for the day's wash. After expressing a desire to wash the shirt herself, she was shooed away by Mrs. McCann who took over the task for her.
"Please be careful, there is a tear in it. And there's… blood."
"Never you mind, dear. We'll have it as good as new for your man."
She nodded tiredly, realized what was said, then blushed.
"Oh, that's not—he's not—" Or was he? Casting about helplessly, she realized the other women were washing their faces for the day. "Do you mind if I wash my hair?"
Somehow she ended up being tended to by another woman who helped unpin her braids then assisted her in washing, rinsing, and wringing her hair dry. As she submitted to their attentions, her mind was still scattered.
If Uncas was shocked by the impropriety of using her Christian name, then he ought not to have stood there half naked with that look in his eye. Even Alice, inexperienced as she was, could feel the power of that regard. Was he just teasing her?
In the end she had a long braid of wet, clean hair over her shoulder, secured by one of her pink ribbons. After thanking the laundresses, she snatched Uncas's shirt up along with some thread. She headed out the door in a hurry, not wanting them to question her further on her motivations to mend it herself.
When she made it to her father's bedchamber, she draped the damp shirt over the back of a chair and shed her bodice and skirt. She then climbed into her father's bed and burrowed under a pillow to escape the sunlight creeping through the windows.
She had the horrible feeling that the only kiss she would ever have would be the one foisted on her by the Venetian dignitary she had danced with last season—if one could call that a kiss.
He had a poor grasp of the English language, so she had responded to him in clumsy Italian before they managed to settle on Latin. After the dance, she slipped away to scour the host's library for a rumored edition of Sidney's Discourses Concerning Government.
Unfortunately Console da Mosto had taken this as some sort of signal and followed her. As he had leaned in, her body froze in shock. Alice was only just able to turn her head at the last moment, causing the man's lips to land on the corner of her mouth and leave a wet smear of brandy and saliva across her cheek.
He had been most apologetic afterwards, partially from his own embarrassment as well as the fear of causing an international incident. After the offense wore off she simply returned to the party with disappointment and a general wariness of Italians. It would be months before she ever got to read Sidney.
Alice vaguely felt Cora climb into bed next to her. She hoped they would sleep well during the day, because they would have to live through another night of the siege.
Notes:
The real Col. Munro posted to Ft. William Henry in the spring of 1757, but I figured that wouldn't give enough time for Magua's family to be killed and for him to become blood brother to the Mohawks. So, I coincided his arrival in this universe with the construction of the fort in 1755.
Inspiration: From Eden by Hozier