Petals on the River

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  His eyes smoldered darkly as they swept upward again, making Shemaine painfully aware of just how vulnerable she was. She could not quell her violent trembling or tame the unceasing frantic thudding of her heart. Indeed, the desire blazing in those brown orbs would have made a warrior maid feel threatened. Fully cognizant of her master’s greater strength, she could entertain no hope of holding him off if he decided to throw her down and have his way with her.

  The moment dragged on beyond endurance, doing much to provoke Shemaine’s Irish temper. Her ire finally displayed itself in a blunt question as she vented her frustration with his brazen scrutiny. “Would you mind if I get some clothes on now, Mr. Thornton?” Shemaine gave him a copious serving of sarcasm as she prodded. “If perchance you haven’t noticed, this towel leaves much to be desired as sufficient clothing.”

  “Your pardon, Shemaine,” Gage apologized with a brief, amused twitch of his lips. “The sights are so lush and pleasurable, I nigh forgot that you might be distressed over your lack of attire. Please forgive me.”

  Shemaine raised her chin to a haughty level, wondering if he made light of his ogling because she had voiced no objection until now. Lest he feel encouraged by her tardiness, she cut keenly through to the heart of the matter. “Aye, I am distressed, Mr. Thornton, but ‘tis what I see in your eyes that makes me fear what will come of this. If you do not intend to dishonor me, sir, I beg you leave now before you reconsider.”

  After another totally encompassing perusal, Gage inclined his head in a gesture of compliance and stepped to the interior door. Passing through the portal without pausing or glancing back, he closed it gently behind him. A moment later she heard what sounded like a chair being righted in the kitchen.

  “Warts off a toad,” Shemaine fussed, flinging away the treasonous towel. Saucily waggling her head, she mimicked her master’s jaunty excuse in a hissing whisper. “I nigh forgot you might be distressed over your lack of attire, Shemaine. Ohhhh, Mr. Thornton! What deceptive wiles you practice!”

  She snatched on her nightgown and slipped a robe over it, knotting the narrow sash firmly about her slender waist though she had grave doubts that any garment would be adequate defense against the lust that she had glimpsed in those lucent eyes. She was rather naive about the prurient appetites of the opposite gender, but she was perceptive enough to know that when a man looked at a woman the way Gage Thornton had just looked at her, he definitely had mating on the mind.

  When Gage folded back the bedcovers and slipped between the sheets a short time later, the delightful air-freshened scent permeated his senses, making him aware of a definite change that his pillows and linens had undergone since his departure from bed that morning. Whatever Shemaine had done, it soon became apparent to him that Roxanne had been far too busy chasing after him to do the same. He found it immensely pleasurable to fluff the goose-down pillows beneath his head and inhale their sweet fragrance. Truly, after spending the whole of the afternoon in brooding contemplation, he realized he had become quite relaxed and was ready to taste the sweet succor of sleep, like a babe who had just been suckled. But then, he couldn’t quite keep his mind from dwelling on the stirring vision of Shemaine’s ripe breasts swelling upward above the towel or the delicious fantasy that any man might linger over, the thought of savoring their fullness with warm, wanton kisses.

  CHAPTER 9

  A lesson on loading and firing a muzzleloader commenced shortly after supper four days later. Gage approached Shemaine soon after she had dried and put away the dishes. For the sake of caution, he bade Andrew to stay on the back porch and play with his blocks where they could keep a close eye on him, well away from the target which Gage proceeded to set up in the opposite direction. Before giving his bondswoman a weapon, Gage explained its proper loading and priming, then carefully demonstrated the procedure. He fired a shot and then watched closely as she readied the rifle for another one.

  Prior to letting her shoot, Gage warned Shemaine that pulling the trigger would only be the first step in the lengthy process of firing a rifle. Once the hammer fell and hit the frizzen, the flint would touch off sparks to ignite the powder, which would then explode and launch the lead shot through the barrel. Altogether, it would seem like a full moment had passed before the flintlock fired, but of course it wouldn’t take quite that long.

  Gage suggested a convenient way for her to hold the firearm so the weight of it wouldn’t tire her arms overmuch and, to critique her stance, stepped close behind her to adjust the weapon in her grasp. The warm pressure of his long body casually conforming to her back was enormously distracting to Shemaine, and in a few short moments the simple act of breathing became difficult. It was a turnabout, to be sure, to find herself coping with her own reaction to his proximity; an uncontrollable trembling being the least of it. She certainly could not judge the man too harshly for the blatant desire she had glimpsed in his eyes a few nights back when she now felt her own heart rush to a swifter pace each and every time the inside of his arm grazed her breast or his thighs brushed against her buttocks. Her skirts lent her no protection. Indeed, she would have required a sturdy suit of armor to shield herself from the searing contact of his male form. She could not imagine her tutor remaining oblivious to her chaotically thumping heart, but if by some chance he was, then she most definitely was not. It took great resolve for her not to bolt and run.

  Despite her nervous agitation, the horrendous noise of the gunshots, and the jolt of the stock against her shoulder that slammed her back against the man, Shemaine managed to glean a goodly amount of knowledge about the proper handling of firearms. Though his nearness flustered her no small degree, Gage made shooting almost as much of a thrill as dancing at a ball. She was delighted with her ability as a novice to hit a stationary target and eagerly anticipated the day when she could fix her sights on a moving mark and shoot a hole through it as well. She suffered serious doubts about her ability to kill an animal or a man and fervently hoped the day would never come when her mettle would be tested in such a way, but she knew she would probably find herself of a different mind-set entirely if she ever had to face the threat of being beaten senseless or even killed by Jacob Potts.

  “ ‘Twould seem, my girl, you’re a natural at hitting the target,” Gage boasted in her behalf the next day. “Now let’s see what you can do with a moving target.”

  Gillian had volunteered to throw a tin plate high into the air for them, but Gage, having taken up a position close behind Shemaine, had slipped his arms around her to help her hold the weapon and to lead her through the procedure from the first sighting and finally the firing. Although Gage would allow her to actually aim the flintlock and pull the trigger, he was there to make sure none of the shots went wild. But he could feel her whole body trembling against him and, mistaking her trepidation, tried to soothe whatever fears she had.

  “You’re doing exceptionally well for a beginner, Shemaine, so just relax and let me show you how to swing through a target.”

  Well before the shot was made, Shemaine realized that it was nigh impossible for her to concentrate on sighting anything, for her thoughts were completely engrossed with the man, not the weapon in her grasp. Once the rifle went off, missing the plate by a lengthy margin, and the exploding shot had slammed her back against the stalwart form, a startled gasp was wrenched from her, and with good reason. It was definitely a shock to her womanly being to find her soft buttocks suddenly buttressing a rock-hard thigh. Had she sat upon hot coals, her reaction would have been no different, for she jerked away as if her backside had been scalded.

  “That wasn’t nearly as good as what you did yesterday, but we’ll try again,” Gage commented casually, leaning close over her shoulder so he could have some idea where she would be aiming the next time. He was not oblivious to her soft form within the circle of his arms, but he had made up his mind to crush his wayward thoughts, especially during her lessons. “No need to be nervous now, Shemaine. Just relax.”

  The
re is absolutely every reason to be nervous! Shemaine thought in a panic, feeling his chest pressing against her back and his arm casually encircling her as he held a hand beneath the barrel of the flintlock so its weight wouldn’t drain her strength. Of a sudden, she felt suffocated, unable to breathe, and she knew she would have to escape ere she embarrassed herself completely.

  Throwing off his arms, she left the flintlock in his grasp and bolted away with a breathless excuse. “I’ve got to knead my bread! I don’t have time for any more lessons now.”

  “Shemaine, where are you go—? Come back here!” His mouth dropped open as she lifted her skirts and raced off toward the back porch. Totally bemused, he exchanged a glance with Gillian, who was just as mystified.

  The younger man shrugged, contemplated the tin plate that was still intact and, lifting it for his employer’s inspection, grinned as he stated the obvious. “Well, at least ye can still eat vittles from this one.”

  The next day Hannah Fields and her two younger sons came for a visit, much to the delight of Andrew. The three boys romped and played in the back yard while Shemaine and the older woman watched from the, porch and got to know each other better.

  “Yer master’s li’l tyke is adorable,” the portly, jolly-faced woman declared, smiling as her eyes followed Andrew about the yard. “ ‘Tis certain his father is bringin’ him up good an’ true.”

  “Have you known Mr. Thornton for long?” Shemaine queried, wanting to understand the man better. Though on the night of her confrontation with the snake she had glimpsed a sensual hunger in his eyes that had made her more than a little uneasy about being alone with him, since then Gage Thornton had treated her with all the consideration a gentleman might show a lady. She could not, of course, read his mind, and at sundry times, when she glanced up and caught him regarding her so intently, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking . . . or perhaps yearning for.

  “ ’bout as long as yer master’s lived here,” Hannah answered with a chortle. “We settled here a couple o’ years afore Gage came. His missus was a real lady, she was. Not so much high-minded or haughty like some are, ye understand, but kindly an’ sweet-natured. I ne’er saw a woman what loved her mister as much as she did Mr. Thornton. Some say he didn’t deserve her ’cause he didn’t love nothin’ but his ship, yet ‘tis been much on me mind that whate’er work he did, he did as much for her as he did for himself.”

  “Mr. Thornton has certainly proven himself an ambitious and talented man,” Shemaine observed, sweeping a hand to indicate the neat path meandering from the porch through the fruit trees and on out to the barns and buildings he had constructed. “I can see proof of his hard work everywhere I turn.”

  Hannah flicked her eyes toward Shemaine, wondering just what she had been told about her master. It seemed unlikely the girl would have been so casually resigned to her indentureship if she had heard any part of what Mrs. Pettycomb and her circle of bigoted friends were prone to say behind Gage Thornton’s back. The gossips were eager to delve into malicious speculation and sometimes lent voice to such wild imaginings that few could withstand their attacks. Gage had done so. With stoic determination, he had continued working as usual, daring anybody else to face him with their tales. Whatever the truth about Victoria’s fatal fall, Hannah had no intention of spreading the like of such talk herself. Wrongfully maligning an innocent man was a serious offense in her own mind, no matter how much Alma Pettycomb and others like her were wont to disregard the damage their long tongues could do.

  “I came prepared ta teach ye what li’l I know ’bout cookin’,” Hannah informed Shemaine with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “But yer master told me soon after I arrived that ye’ve been doin’ well enough on yer own . . . so’s I’m thinkin’ ye maybe don’t need me help.”

  “Actually, I would love to learn to make biscuits the way they make them at the tavern . . . that is, if you know how,” Shemaine replied eagerly. “I had sea biscuits on the voyage over here, but they were nothing like the ones at the tavern. It took a strong stomach to tolerate those things, what with all the maggots and such that were oftentimes found in them.”

  “We can make a batch o’ biscuits for the noon meal,” the older woman suggested with a merry laugh. “I brought a basket o’ food with me, thinkin’ ye might be a bit tired o’ yer own cookin’. The biscuits’ll be a tasty addition ta the vittles.”

  “Perhaps we should bring the boys in to play in the cabin while we cook,” Shemaine said worriedly. “Recently I had such a fright with a poisonous snake, I fret that another may be near.”

  “Those nasty things! They make me blood turn cold with fear! There’s some they call rattlers, an’ if’n ye’ve e’er heard one, ye know the reason why.”

  “I’ve heard one already, and it was too close for comfort,” Shemaine replied with a shudder.

  Hannah clapped her hands loudly together as she called to the youngsters. “Come in now, boys. An’ Malcolm an’ Duncan, I want ye ta mind yer manners in Mr. Thornton’s nice, clean house. I wouldn’t have Mistress Shemaine thinkin’ I’m raisin’ a pack o’ wild hooligans upriver.”

  As boys are wont to do once they’ve been confined to small areas, they began to wrestle and play rough. Andrew got the worst of it, being the youngest, and Shemaine felt her own heart catch when he got knocked around in the scuffling. In seeking to protect him, she tried finesse in separating the three. The older ones were used to playing with each other and were far tougher than she deemed safe for Andrew, but he was brave despite the bruises he acquired and went back into the frisky fray with a cry of glee. The boisterous tussling, however, was sharply curtailed when Hannah finally blared an order at her sons, bringing them to swift and alert attention.

  “I told ye boys ta mind yer manners, an’ if’n ye don’t, I’ll be layin’ ye both ‘cross me knees an’ paddlin’ yer bare backsides good an’ proper. An’ ye know I mean what I say!”

  From then on, the two boys could have been likened to little angels, except for the devilish gleams in their eyes. But they obviously understood their mother was serious with her threats, for they even consented to take a nap with Andrew while Hannah and Shemaine cleaned up the kitchen.

  Before coming to visit, Hannah had prepared a meal for her own family and had left her daughters with the task of serving supper if she returned late, so when Gage encouraged his neighbor to stay and share the evening fare with them, Hannah readily accepted, welcoming the respite from her enormous duties as mother and wife. It was obvious she relished the food Shemaine had prepared, and when Gage encouraged her to indulge herself in a second helping, she readily complied. Afterward, Hannah pushed back from the table with a groan.

  “I hope me boat don’t sink on the way home, ’cause I’d ne’er be able ta swim ta shore. Me poor Charlie would ne’er forgive me for leavin’ him with the task o’ raisin’ our brood by his lonesome.”

  Gage grinned. “Would you care to be escorted home?”

  Hannah cast him a glance askance, her eyes glittering with puckish delight. “I should accept yer offer after all yer wicked attempts ta fatten me up,” she chided jovially, then waved away the possibility. “If’n the boat starts sinkin’ I’ll just tie a rope ’round Malcolm an’ Duncan an’ let ’em swim home.”

  “Ma!” the boys cried in unison, and stared at their mother with mouths agape. At her resulting laughter, they made much of her threat as they poked bony fingers at each other.

  “Malcolm’s gonna be the first!”

  “Nah, Ma! Throw Duncan out! I wanna see him swim home!”

  “I’ll throw ye both out!” Hannah warned as they began to wrestle and wallop each other.

  Gage chuckled as the woman looked at him in helpless appeal and, with waggish humor, proposed, “You could lassoo both of them now and save yourself the trouble later.”

  “Ye ain’t suggestin’ nothin’ I ain’t already thought o’ meself,” their mother declared, heaving an exasperated sigh. “The
way they tear ’round with each other, ‘twill be a wonder for sure if those boys survive ‘til they’re full grown.”

  “Imagine their future as valiant soldiers or something of that sort,” Gage suggested with a grin. “They’re getting all the experience they’ll ever need right now.”

  “Ye can say that, sure enough! But there be times I’d like a li’l truce betwixt the battles so’s I can learn a li’i strategy o’ me own . . . like how ta knock their noggins together without gettin’ me fingers smashed.”

  The woman’s humor was too much for Shemaine to bear soberly. Having overheard their conversation as she readied Andrew’s bath, she tried to squelch her giggles as she lifted a caldron of steaming water from the fireplace hook. Her mirth proved unruly, for it kept escaping in brief snatches as she rushed the kettle to the back corridor and soon became uncontrollably and highly infectious, making the rounds first to Andrew and then to Gage and Hannah, who had stepped near the front door. Many months had passed since the cabin had overflowed with such joyful sounds. For Gage, it was like a magic elixir warming his whole being.

  Finally the chortles subsided, and Hannah, preparing to take her leave, waved a hand toward the front porch as she asked a favor. “If’n ye don’t mind, Gage, I left a pair o’ chairs for ye ta mend when ye’ve got some time ta spare. It needn’t be right away, ye understand, but it’d be nice ta have ’em afore the year is out. The chairs don’t look it at first peek, but the backs are nigh ta fallin’ ‘way from the seats. ‘Tain’t safe sittin’ in ’em.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Hannah,” Gage assured her. “But are you sure you won’t be needing them before year’s end?”

  “We’ve got more’n enough chairs for our own family. ‘Twill only be Christmas that we’ll be needin’ ’em for kinfolk. Charlie’s brothers an’ sisters’ll be comin’, an’ there’s so many, it’ll be like an army invadin’ us.”