Gage’s indomitable gaze softened somewhat as he looked down at the small, plain-faced woman, but her garbled speech bespoke her lack of schooling. “I was hoping to find a woman who could teach my son to read and write in years to come. Is it possible that you can instruct him?”
“Blimey no, gov’na!” Annie gasped, confounded by the requirement. Deeply disappointed, she was about to turn away when a sudden thought struck. Facing him again with an eager smile, she informed him, “But I knows one what can! She’s a liedy, ta be sure, sir.”
“A lady?” Gage was clearly dubious now that he had seen the greater share of women. “Here on a convict ship?”
“Aye, sir!” Annie’s answer was emphatic. “M’liedy knows readin’ an’ writin’ an’ can even do sums in her head. I seen her do it, sir.”
“Ninety years old, no doubt,” Gage scoffed. He couldn’t waste his funds on a woman who would probably fall dead five minutes after leaving the ship. Old arguments surfaced to cast his expectations into the realm of the absurd, stripping away his confidence and nullifying his hopes. Certainly no gentle-bred woman would have committed such a grievous crime to warrant being sent to the colonies on a convict ship, unless of course she had been thrown into debtor’s prison. Even then, he had grave doubts that he could afford her. He had other commitments which negated his ability to pay off such encumbrances.
A smug smile twitched at the corners of Annie’s lips. “Nay, sir! A young liedy! An’ a comely one at that, sir.”
“Where is this marvel?” Gage asked blandly. He was afraid Annie didn’t fully comprehend the meaning of the word lady, for he had neither seen nor heard any similarities since boarding the Pride.
Turning, Annie motioned for her companions to move aside as she searched for her friend. When a path had opened, she thrust out a thin arm to point to a lone figure sitting on the hatch cover. “That’s ‘er, gov’na! Shemaine O’Hearn, she be!”
Shemaine became instantly aware of the attention she had gained and the strength of those startlingly beautiful brown eyes as they settled on her in amazement. She could entertain no uncertainty about whether or not she had piqued the stranger’s interest, for he was totally engrossed in looking her over.
Gage Thornton had worked too hard for everything he now owned to be fooled into believing his goal could be met so painlessly. This young woman was uncommonly fetching, a possible prize to be sure, but he was leery of some hidden flaw.
He leaned aside to question Annie. “A lady, you say?” At her affirmative nod, he asked the obvious. “But why is she here? What offense did she commit that justified her being sent to these shores on a prison ship?”
Annie lowered her voice to a whisper. “A thieftaker snatched m’liedy whilst her parents were away an’ wouldn’t let her go an’ fetch people what knew her, so ye see, sir, there weren’t none ta say the bloke nay when he swore she were the one what stole another liedy’s jewels.”
Gage was hardly convinced, but his reservations were not enough to diminish his interest. Even with her cheeks smudged with grime and her hair wildly snarled about her thin shoulders and down her back, Shemaine’s beauty was unmistakable. Her face seemed delicately wrought, as if some artist had painted an image of a dream and brought it to life with an enchanted kiss. Her breeding, he strongly suspected, was thoroughly Irish, for no other race seemed quite so naturally favored with combinations of flaming red hair, sparkling green eyes and creamy fair skin. Despite the rags that adorned her, her graceful bearing gave undeniable evidence of her refinement, for she held herself with a regal air, her chin slightly elevated, her eyes meeting his directly, as if she suffered no qualms about being his equal.
Gage marveled at the unusual tumult inside of him and could only wonder what excited him more, the discovery of a girl who seemed to fulfill his every requirement for a nursemaid or the other, unspoken purpose which he had not dared hope to satisfy. If he did acquire her, his future intentions would probably astound friend and foe alike. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time he had gone against proper decorum to carve out a definite direction for his life.
Mentally Gage hauled back on the reins of his racing thoughts and, assuming a casualness he did not particularly feel, pointed the girl out to the bosun. “Mr. Harper, I’d like to make inquiries about that prisoner over there.”
James Harper craned his neck to see which of the women had interested the man, just as an aging crone stepped in front of Shemaine. Harper bade the elder forward, mentally questioning the man’s taste and good sense, but Gage negated the summons with an impatient slash of a hand. Stepping to a place where he could command Shemaine’s attention directly, he bade her to come forward with a single beckoning motion.
Conscious of those sparkling brown orbs feeding on her every movement, Shemaine rose from the hatch and slipped through the press of women whose troubled frowns openly conveyed their envy and dejection. Her progress went unhindered, however, until Morrisa blocked her path.
“If’n I were ye, dearie, I’d be a mite cautious o’ goin’ off with this here Thornton gent. Ye sees, Sh’maine, I ain’t seen such a handsome bloke in all me born days, an’ I wants him for meself. An’ if’n ye keeps me from havin’ him, I’ll not be takin’ it too kindly. For sure, I’ll be wantin’ ta slice ye up good an’ proper.”
Shemaine was amazed that Morrisa still sought to intimidate her. It seemed by now that even a half-wit would have realized she was too obstinate to be moved by threats. “And if I were you, Morrisa,” she gritted back through a tight smile, “I’d consider the mayhem the man might heap upon your hide if you manage to harm a servant of his, especially one he’s paid good money for.”
“I’ll come after ye, Sh’maine, mark me words. An’ when I finds ye, I’ll make ye sorry ye didn’t heeds me warnin’. This here bloke won’t wants ye after I gets through with ye.”
The visual daggers that pierced the strumpet belied the softness of Shemaine’s words. “I hope you’ll not be too surprised, Morrisa, if I let Mr. Thornton know you’ve threatened to do me harm.”
Morrisa snarled in exasperation as Shemaine brushed past her. Her failed attempts to see the bogtrotter killed or, at the very least, seriously maimed were even more grievous now, when it was evident the redhead had attracted the best of the lot. A scarred face would have certainly discouraged the handsome bloke from wanting the chit.
James Harper hadn’t bothered to glance up as Shemaine halted beside them. He had grown impatient with all the fuss over the settler and, like Potts, was anxious to conclude the sale so he could enjoy his liberty on shore, for he had a fair thirst building for a large tankard of ale. Checking the lists, he questioned brusquely, “Your name?”
“Shemaine O’Hearn.”
His head snapped up in surprise at the velvety reply. The name conjured up different images of a slender, red-haired beauty he had both glimpsed from afar and ardently admired at close range. If there was one prisoner he was loath to see sold to another man, it was this girl who had aroused the hopes and imagination of many a sailor aboard the London Pride. Even Captain Fitch had been smitten, and only the most discreet members of the crew knew his wife would soon have valid reasons to be envious of the maid. Ere long, her husband would settle the girl in a nearby house and make her his mistress. It was not an arrangement Harper enjoyed making for his superior, but he simply had no choice in the matter.
He spoke in a hushed tone to the stranger. “I fear you’d not be content with this one, sir,” he advised, having been instructed by Captain Fitch to discourage all serious buyers. “She has a sharp tongue which can lay a man open with a deft stroke. Ask the captain and his missus if you doubt what I say.”
Having overheard the warning, Shemaine fixed Harper with an incredulous stare, wondering why he should be so callous as to distort the details of that specific day when he had assembled the prisoners on deck to witness the scourging of Annie Carver. They had been forced to watch the cat-o-nine rip open the sma
ll woman’s back and were warned as the whip fell that similar infractions would result in like discipline. Their confused and questioning murmurs had turned rapidly to muttering indignation, for they had known only too well what had caused Annie’s attempt to kill herself. One by one they had faced the quarterdeck where the captain had stood. Shemaine vividly recalled the contempt that had risen like sour gall in her throat when her own gaze had settled on the captain standing stoically beside his gloating wife. With as much passion as her Irish father had ever thought of venting, she had climbed atop the hatch cover and harshly berated the couple for their barbarous treatment of Annie.
Now, with considerably less venom than she had exhibited three months before, Shemaine questioned the bosun. “Will you give me no chance to explain, Mr. Harper?”
“Did I not tell the truth?” he queried, growing distressed because in the process of obeying orders he could turn her completely against him He was no more partial to the idea of letting her go off with this man than he was to the captain’s claiming her, but what could he do?
“You accused me rightly, sir,” Shemaine admitted brittlely, lifting her chin as she met his troubled stare. “But there was much more to the incident than you infer. Mrs. Fitch’s crimes against a grieving mother were tantamount to whipping a widow for mourning the death of her husband. Her only interest in keeping Annie alive was purely mercenary, but you, sir . . . could you not understand Annie’s depth of despair when she tried to take her own life? Or are you so completely bereft of compassion that you cannot comprehend the sorrow of a young mother when she is robbed of her child? Or did you, indeed, see the need for her to be further punished by a flogging?”
“I could not disobey my superiors,” Harper argued. “Nor was it my place to debate the matter with them.”
“So, by your silence you consented to the whipping,” Shemaine chided softly. “How chivalrous you are.”
Harper blushed profusely, realizing her arguments had uprooted him from his firm stance. Her persuasive reasoning would no doubt sway the colonist in her favor. In hopes of dashing any idea of a gallant spirit, he sought to justify his claims. “ ‘Twas certainly not your place to accuse the captain or his wife and encourage the other prisoners to revolt!”
“Revolt?” Shemaine laughed in rampant disbelief. “They merely voiced their objections. Believe me, sir, revolt was not within their capability, not when they were half starved and weighed down with so much iron they could hardly move!”
“The bosun’s right, gov’na,” Morrisa interrupted, shouldering others aside. “That Irish tart gots a spitefully mean temper, she does. Laid me low more’n a few times, she did, without me e’er knowin’ what set her off.”
“Ye liar!” Annie shrieked. Catching hold of Morrisa’s arm, she swung her around and then let go, sending the harlot reeling haphazardly into the churning body of women.
There had been times during the voyage when Annie’s temper had completely amazed Shemaine, and the present moment was no exception. The woman had seemed like such a retiring little mouse at the onset of the voyage, but since that fateful day of her whipping, Annie had grown bolder, as if she had made a silent pledge to herself to reap vengeance on those who had abused her and to repay Shemaine for everything she had suffered after coming to her defense. To be sure, Annie had demonstrated her gratitude far more than Shemaine had ever expected from anyone or, for that matter, had ever thought her deed warranted.
It was Annie who returned to shake a dirty finger beneath the noble nose of Gage Thornton. “Whipped by order o’ the cap’n’s missus, I was, but m’liedy called her a mean an’ heartless shrew—”
“Aye! An’ Sh’maine had the lot o’ us agreein’ with her!” the snaggletoothed crone interjected. “Even chained, we were set ta break the bilboes an’ waylay the crew ‘til the cap’n agreed ta stop the floggin’.”
Annie persisted in her defense. “An’ we were bent on protestin’ m’liedy’s stay in the cable locker, too, but Sh’maine told us ta take care o’ our own hides. She vowed ta show Mrs. Fitch the true cut o’ her jib an’ said she’d come out no worse for wear. . . .”
Shemaine groaned inwardly, convinced that her friend was far too vocal about her fleeting moment of folly. She had lost her temper, nothing more.
“ ‘Twas only the cap’n reducin’ her stay ta four days ‘stead o’ four weeks what saved her skin,” Annie added.
In all actuality, Annie’s discourse had had little effect on Gage Thornton. He had made up his mind some moments earlier, during the argument between Harper and the girl. In protesting the bosun’s accusations, she had readily confirmed her intelligence and schooling. Gage was delighted that she met his requirements so completely. The fact that she did allowed him to avoid a conflict within himself, for he really didn’t want to deal with the dilemma of wanting her irregardless her merits.
Still, he could not let himself appear overeager when he had to lay out a significant sum of money. He had to be careful with the coins he had earned, at least until he finished building the ship he had designed and could find a buyer for it. Though he had every intention of becoming a rich man someday, he was by no means one yet. Having been denied any right to his father’s fortune because of a rift that had sprung up between them, he had come to the colonies a veritable pauper. It had only been by a like amount of wit and grit that he had managed to succeed as well as he had. In truth, if he could somehow manage to give up his dream of building ships, the furniture that he and his four employees made in his cabinet shop would provide him with a goodly income, but there lay the crux of the difficulty. How could one give up a lifelong ambition?
“You don’t mind if I have a closer look at the girl, do you, Mr. Harper?” Gage raised an eyebrow in cynical wonder, half expecting the bosun to deny his request.
Harper scowled sharply. The man’s persistence grated on his temper. “ ‘Twill do you no good.”
“Why not?” Gage asked curtly. “If I’m willing to take a chance on the girl’s disposition, what else might prevent me from buying her?”
At the seaman’s taciturn frown and rigid shrug, Gage pointedly dismissed him and moved beyond Annie to where Shemaine stood. She was not the cleanest creature he had ever seen or, for that matter, even smelled, but the fiery lights that flashed in those dark green orbs amused him. And that meant a great deal to him. If truth be known, he had almost forgotten how to laugh since the death of his wife.
“The girl looks half starved,” Gage commented, giving Harper a challenging stare. He had heard rumors of privation aboard convict ships, and though their captains were wont to disavow such tales as gross exaggerations, the deplorable condition of the felons aboard this vessel seemed to bear out such unfavorable reports.
Harper ground his teeth in growing vexation. No matter how strenuously he had objected to the scarcity of victuals for the prisoners, the fact that this settler made reference to the starvation only served to heighten his irritation, for he was sure this interloper was trying to instigate a quarrel. “ ‘Tis no concern of yours what the girl’s present state may be, Mr. Thornton. I’ve told you before, I cannot sell her to you.”
“She’ll fatten up right nicely, gov’na,” Annie encouraged Gage impetuously as she came to Shemaine’s side. “If’n ye be o’ a mind ta give her a few good vittles, it won’t take her no time at all.”
“Hush, Annie!” The emerald eyes flashed an angry reproof. “I’m not a sow you’re selling.”
“Can you cook?” Gage asked.
Annie bobbed her head and hastily replied in her friend’s stead. “O’ course, she can, gov’na!”
“Will you not shush?” Shemaine whispered furiously. “You’re bound to get me into trouble!”
Gage was certain he understood the drift of the admonition, but questioned Shemaine to be sure. “What did you say?”
Annie waved away his inquiry. “Oh, na’ a thin’, gov’na. M’liedy was just clearin’ her throat, that she was! ‘Tis
all these here spores in the air, ye know.”
“Annie!” The name came out sounding like steam hissing from a boiling kettle, and perhaps that description could have been directly applied to Shemaine. She was not very appreciative of being discussed as if she were a piglet being offered for sale.
Stepping slowly and purposefully around Shemaine, Gage contemplated her from every angle. Even a large cabin could get uncomfortably cramped when it served as home to two people who couldn’t abide each other. Of late, he had become increasingly aware of the difficulty in coping with a woman, namely one Roxanne Corbin, who tried to smother him with her presence and attention. If not for his desperate need for a nursemaid to care for his son while he worked, he would never have considered taking Roxanne on in the first place, and now she expected far more from him than he was willing to give. In Shemaine’s case, however, he thought he might enjoy having her underfoot and discovering every minute detail about her.
Pausing beside her, Gage reached out and slid his fingers curiously over the delicate bones of her wrist. The contact seemed far too bold and intimate to Shemaine. Had he branded her, she would have felt no less disturbed, for his touch seemed like a warm flame slowly licking upward along her skin.
“Please don’t!” she begged breathlessly, pulling away. When he looked so sleek, hale, and hearty, what merit could he possibly find in a frail and filthy reed?
“I didn’t mean to startle you, Shemaine,” Gage apologized. “I only wanted to look at your hands. . . . May I?”
Shemaine didn’t like being the recipient of such close attention, especially when she felt so utterly unclean. Grudgingly she lifted her hands, resenting her lack of an option. She was just thankful he hadn’t asked to see her teeth!
Petals on the River Page 4
