Gage finally glanced toward the group of onlookers, setting them to nervous flight with nothing more than a thoughtful scowl. Of a sudden, they seemed in an anxious dither to cross the gangplank and board the ship. He gave little consideration to their undignified haste as he looked at her again. “You made your lack of skills quite clear ere I bought you, Shemaine. I cannot claim I’ve been defrauded. There’ll be no taking you back.”
Shemaine felt her heart grow light with relief. “ ‘Tis good to know that, sir.”
Gage gestured casually to her riding habit, having noticed several tars watching the girl from afar. “ ‘Tis plain we’ll have to do something about your clothing. I don’t appreciate the stares you attract, nor would I have you shamed by my lack of generosity.”
Once again Shemaine tried to read the inscrutable frown that occupied his sun-bronzed brow as he slowly perused her, but the man himself seemed carefully reserved and enigmatic. Knowing only too well that her appearance could cause even the staunch-hearted to cringe in chagrin, she offered hesitantly, “If you’d prefer not to be seen with me, Mr. Thornton, I can follow several paces behind you so no one will know we’re together.”
Gage served quick death to her suggestion. “I didn’t lay out forty pounds for you, girl, just to have you snatched behind my back. You have no understanding of this area, else you’d know there are not a lot of women to choose from, especially those worthy of being called pretty. There are, however, enough trappers and backwoodsmen wandering around to give a virtuous maid serious cause to worry. Any number of them would be willing to commit mayhem to get themselves a woman to take back to their camps. You’d be a fine catch for a man like that, especially during the winter months.”
Shemaine was hardly appreciative of his scolding and explained brittlely. “I only meant to save you some embarrassment, sir.”
“I know what you thought, Shemaine, but you were wrong. Even half-starved and filthy dirty, you’re the comeliest maid the people of this hamlet have seen in some months.”
Shemaine wasn’t one to be easily taken in by a few charitable compliments. “Your flattery would surely turn a simple maid’s head about on her shoulders, Mr. Thornton. Were I one, I’d probably be overwhelmed with gratitude, but I’m fully cognizant of just how wretched I look.”
At her blatant rejection of his praise, Gage displayed a bit of exasperation of his own as he sighed. “In time, girl, you’ll learn that I speak the plain truth. I don’t hold with lying.”
“And in time, sir,” Shemaine was quick to rejoin in stilted tones, “you’ll learn I’m not a mere girl.”
Gage noted the deepening blush in his bondswoman’s cheeks as she stood in rigid poise, as if bracing herself for his reprimand. Leaning toward her slightly, he commanded her full attention. Staring directly into those widened eyes, he breathed his answer. “Believe me, Shemaine, I know that now.”
His emphatic admission disarmed Shemaine completely and opened up a plethora of questions in her mind. Of a sudden, she was not at all sure the colonial had been thinking solely of his son when he had laid out his purse for her. If he had told her outright that he had closely appraised her womanly curves for what enjoyment they could give to him, especially her bosom, which was probably the only curve she hadn’t entirely forfeited through her lengthy ordeal, he could not have made her more uneasy.
Yet, when Shemaine considered how obstinate she could be, she deemed it advantageous to offer some insight into her own failings if she wanted to get along with the man or even held out hopes of staying with him long enough to win his approval. If she angered him unduly, there was absolutely no guarantee that he had to keep her. He could just as well sell her to the next stranger willing to pay his price. For her own preservation, it seemed imperative that she demonstrate a willingness to be submissive. And if any lecherous schemes were being entertained by the colonial, then those would have to be addressed once they became apparent. It was neither wise nor fair to judge a man prior to his offense.
“I’ve had little experience being a servant, Mr. Thornton,” Shemaine murmured carefully. “You’ll no doubt find me quite outspoken at times. Perhaps even impertinent.”
His gaze never wavered from her face. “I’d rather have you speak your mind, Shemaine, than see you intimidated by my presence.”
Equally surprised by his answer, she conceded, “I have many faults, sir, and one of them is my temper. I fear in that respect I’m very much like my father.”
Gage countered with a warning of his own. “I’m sure you’ll get to know my moods in time, Shemaine, and occasionally think me an ornery beast. But you needn’t be afraid of me. I won’t beat you.”
Her responding smile was genuine. “I’m relieved to hear that, sir.”
“Then come,” he urged, taking her arm. Peering up at the threatening clouds looming overhead, he briefly mused on the prospects of a storm being unleashed upon them. “We’ll get drenched in earnest if we stand here much longer.”
Gage drew her with him as he made his way along the quay, passing people and stepping around wooden crates as if he had urgent duties elsewhere. His walk was brisk, his strides long. He was not a man who wasted time or dallied overmuch at doing nothing. His strength and energy were valuable assets, and he used them to good advantage. In his haste to get home before the rain started, he gave little heed to his servant’s lack of vigor and lagging steps.
Shemaine’s long fast in the cable tier had left her feeling far too faint and weak to allow her to keep up with her new master. Even before they reached the end of the wharf, her legs had turned to fragile stilts that wobbled unsteadily beneath her and threatened to give way entirely. Perceiving the impending danger as her vision began to blur, and shapes and structures reeled woozily around her, Shemaine staggered to a faltering halt and begged weakly for her master to give her pause. Gaining her release, she stumbled away and clasped a nearby post for support. She closed her eyes and waited for her strength and wits to return, hoping fervently that they would.
Gage took note of the shaking hand the girl pressed over her mouth and the lack of color in her face and knew this was no feigned attack of the vapors. Half expecting her to collapse, he stepped beside her. “Are you ill?”
Not wishing to upset her equilibrium more than it was, Shemaine raised her gaze cautiously and was surprised to find him so near. Her stomach was so empty she wanted to retch, and it was a difficult moment before she managed to subdue the urge. “Give me a moment to catch my breath,” she pleaded in a strained whisper. “Then I’ll be better. ‘Tis but a passing weakness, I’m sure.”
Some understanding began to dawn on Gage as he considered her more closely. Her sunken cheeks and the all-too-obvious trembling of her slender hands indicated a frailty associated with a lengthy fast. “When was the last time you had anything to eat?”
Though the frigid breezes continued to sap her energy and drag her down into a mental stupor, Shemaine struggled desperately to remain coherent. “I was given several crusts of bread and a bucket of stale water during the four days I was locked away in the cable tier. . . .” She swayed dizzily, feeling an invading debility sapping the last vestige of her strength, but when he reached out and steadied her with a hand beneath her arm, she staggered back abruptly, feebly brushing away his grasp, and willed herself to stand alone. “In truth, sir . . .” She swallowed, fighting another wave of nausea, and continued with difficulty. “I’m so famished . . . I’m nigh to swooning.”
Gage promptly hailed a passing vendor and went off to meet the man. After purchasing several wheat cakes, he returned and offered one to his bondslave. “Perhaps this will help.”
Shemaine accepted the cake eagerly and, tearing it apart, greedily devoured the pieces, nearly choking as she stuffed them in her mouth. Mortified by her lack of manners, she refused to lift her gaze to the man whose tall, broad-shouldered frame sheltered her from the casual glances of those who traversed the main thoroughfare of the town. She
swallowed the last crumbs and took a ragged breath, meeting his probing stare hesitantly. “I was considerably more fortunate than some of the other prisoners, sir. They died from the sparse fare. Thirty-one in all, to be exact.”
Gage recalled the broad shapes of Captain Fitch and his wife and grew incensed at the thought of them wallowing in gluttony while their victims died of starvation. “I’ve heard tales of deprivation suffered aboard convict ships like the London Pride,” he reflected. “I sailed here as a passenger aboard a merchant vessel some years ago and have counted myself far luckier than most who have crossed the seas to get here.”
Self-consciously Shemaine folded her arms across her midriff as her stomach began to rumble. “I’m grateful to be alive, sir, though at times I really had my doubts that I would survive.”
Gage handed her another cake and waited patiently as she consumed it, this time with a little more dignity. She finished the last of them and immediately began to long for something to drink. Her new master seemed to read her mind as he motioned for the elderly vendor to bring a cup of cider to her.
Shemaine’s initial hunger and thirst had been sated before she realized they were attracting the attention of nearly everyone who passed along the lane. Some of the villagers had paused nearby to stare in slack-jawed wonder. A few seemed wary of looking at all and tried to hide the fact. Others were nosy enough to step around to where they could get a better view. A handful of British soldiers, standing some distance off, laughed at remarks being made by several in their number as they eyed her openly.
It was not difficult for Shemaine to imagine what people were thinking or even saying. Lacking shoes and with the stiff breezes snatching her tattered skirts and unkempt hair, she could believe she looked as wild as some red-haired heathen. But she noticed that whenever any of the townspeople caught sight of her, their natural reaction was to glance at her escort to see what sort of person might be with her. Facial expressions registering varying degrees of astonishment became almost predictable the very moment the onlookers recognized Gage Thornton. Just as the other couples who bad fled aboard the London Pride, they seemed suddenly intent on making good their escape before they fell under his grim stare.
Gage nodded a curt greeting to several male acquaintances, but they seemed almost flustered to have been caught gawking. Without giving him more than a disturbed glance, they hurried on their way. Finding no tangible reason to challenge them, Gage settled a curious gaze upon Shemaine. He was hardly surprised by the stares she received from the men. They’d have to have been blind not to see the girl’s beauty behind all the grime. She was as delicately boned as his dead wife, but that was where the similarity ended. Compared to Victoria, Shemaine was almost vividly hued, shorter by several degrees and generally smaller, except that she had more of a bosom than his wife had been endowed with.
“Shemaine O’Hearn,” he murmured thoughtfully, hardly realizing that he had spoken until she glanced up inquiringly.
“Sir?”
Gage could think of no credible excuse for staring at her so intently and harkened back to his earlier conjecture. “Irish, eh?”
The emerald eyes flashed with sudden indignation. So! Shemaine mentally jeered, Gage Thornton will be like all the rest of the Englishmen who detest the Irish! Raising her chin to an imperial level, she replied with emphatic crispness, “Aye, sir! The name is O’Hearn! Shemaine Patrice O’Hearn! Daughter of Shemus Patrick and Camille O’Hearn! Half Irish I am, to be sure, sir, and half English, if it matters a wit to you colonials!”
The dark brows jutted upward in curious surprise. However innocent his remark had been, Gage realized he had ignited that passionate spirit which the girl had warned him about. “There’s no crime in being one or the other, Shemaine, or even both,” he replied, seeking to allay her suspicions and resentment. “But tell me this, if you would. Annie said you are a lady, and though I’ve seen evidence of that fact, I cannot help but wonder how you came to be aboard a prison ship.”
Shemaine’s anger dwindled rapidly as she gleaned some evidence of his tolerance, but she was slow to answer. It seemed she had tried a thousand times to convince Ned, the thieftaker, the glum-faced magistrate, and the gaoler of her innocence, but none had lent credence to her tearful supplications. Perhaps they had been motivated by a hefty bribe, just as she had oft suspected. Whatever their reasons, she had grave doubts this stranger would believe her either.
“I didn’t kill anyone, Mr. Thornton, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Gage responded with a dubious chuckle. “I never imagined you had, Shemaine.”
His gaze was indomitable, and it was apparent that he awaited her answer and would not be satisfied with a feeble excuse. Heaving a sigh, Shemaine mentally braced herself for the ordeal of explaining and plunged reluctantly into the mire of her predicament. “ ‘Twas nigh to eight months ago when I had the pleasure, or perhaps one might say the misfortune, of becoming engaged to the Marquess du Mercer of London. His grandmother, Edith du Mercer, was not as receptive to my lack of aristocratic breeding as Maurice had proven to be. ‘Twas Edith, I suspect, or at least someone in her service whom she could trust to be discreet, who hired a thieftaker to snatch me from my parents’ home while they were away. Only servants and an aunt were looking after me at the time, a fact Edith knew well. It seemed to me a desperate bid to destroy the likelihood of her grandson taking me to wife. Maurice can be very adamant when he settles his mind on a matter, and Edith may have been unable to dissuade him. After my arrest, I was accused of thievery and sentenced to prison. It didn’t seem feasible, after all my failed attempts to bribe someone to take word of my arrest to my parents or to my aunt, that my kin would discover my whereabouts by some other means. Even if I had had the coins in hand to entice the gaolers or turnkeys to carry news to my family, I seriously doubted that any of them would have ventured farther than the nearest alehouse. Rather than face the threat of being ravished or perhaps even murdered in Newgate, I signed my name to the long list of prisoners agreeing to be sold as indentured servants here in the colonies.”
Gage had no trouble believing she could associate with aristocrats. Though a keen ear could recognize an Irish lilt to her words, she was articulate beyond his expectations and, in spite of her fiery temper, well mannered. As far as her being innocent of any crimes, he would have to accept her explanation as fact until he found out otherwise. “ ‘Twould seem your ill fortune has led to my gain, Shemaine. Though I can sympathize with you for what you’ve been through, perhaps you can understand if I cannot pretend to be saddened that you’re here.”
Shemaine felt his unyielding stare and inquired timidly, “Is it meet that I should know something about you, Mr. Thornton?”
Lifting his head, Gage gazed off into the distance for a moment before responding. “I’m a shipbuilder by preference, a cabinetmaker out of necessity. I’ve a workshop and a cabin a short distance from here on the James River. At present, I’m involved in building a ship of my own design, but the brigantine is still several months from completion. Once she’s finished and sold, I intend to devote my energies entirely to building another, with the hope that someday I may become a major shipbuilder. Until then, I must pay for the labor and supplies with what I earn making furniture.”
Shemaine could not imagine a man of limited resources being so adamant about buying her. “I was certain you had wealth to spare, Mr. Thornton.”
Gage had definitely amazed himself in that respect. “You seem completely suited to my purposes, Shemaine. Had I searched every ship that came into port I cannot imagine finding another like you.” Pausing a moment, he frowned and grew noticeably somber as he began to relate his own reason for coming to the colonies. “I was forced to leave London myself more than nine years past. I had a falling-out with my father because of my refusal to marry a young woman who claimed that I had compromised her innocence and gotten her with child. She was the daughter of an old acquaintance of his, and I’m sure
‘twas out of loyalty to his friend that my father sought to force me into a marriage with her. I think he was afraid our name would be besmirched if I didn’t placate Christine’s demands that we be married posthaste, but I would not be bound by wedlock to the little liar, nor would I give my name to some other man’s brat. I never really knew whether it was only a ruse to get me to marry her or if Christine was truly with child. She was pretty enough to attract more than enough suitors to her stoop, even without her sire’s wealth. Because of my refusal to comply, my father cast me out of our home. So you see, Shemaine, we have both been set adrift by the wiles of conniving women. ‘Twould no doubt sorely prick the tempers of those two shrews if we were to thrive in this wild land.”
“You have a better chance of doing that than I have, Mr. Thornton,” Shemaine replied glumly. “My only reprieve would be if my father somehow found out where I had been taken and sailed here to buy me back, but that seems farfetched, considering my past efforts. He would never dream of making inquiries at Newgate, and I have no more wealth now to bribe a messenger to bear a letter to England than I had in Newgate. Besides, any missive I manage to send would take months before it reached my family . . . if it ever did . . . and many more months ere they could possibly reach the colonies. If I’m found at all, it won’t be within this present year, I’ll warrant.”
Gage spent a long moment in silent thought, understanding how thrilled the girl would be if her father were to find her and fetch her back to England, but he also knew the disappointment he would suffer if he had to begin his search again. Having survived an abrupt detachment from home and family himself, he sought to calm her fears about her future. “Sometimes, Shemaine, when we’re forced to go beyond the protective walls of the homes we grew up in, we have an opportunity to become instrumental in determining our own fate. For years, I dreamed of constructing a ship of my own design in England, but my father needed my skills building the massive ships that he had always produced. It has been my belief all these many years that he did not understand my designs or trust me well enough because of my youth to let me create them from scratch. Having apprenticed for several years under a very talented cabinetmaker, I was better at the finish work than any of the other men my father employed, but when he thrust me away in anger and refused to even consider that I was the one who was an innocent victim, I found myself free to follow my own desires and ambitions.”
Petals on the River Page 6
