Gage chuckled at the idea of having so much time to repair them. “I might not get around to repairing them for a month or two, but I’ll have them ready well before Christmas. If you need them sooner, just let me know. Until then, I’ll keep them on the porch as a reminder.”
Hannah cocked her head and paused to listen to the song that Shemaine was singing to Andrew in the back corridor, where she was bathing him. It was a bright and airy tune, definitely of Irish origin, and the voice was as sweet and pleasing as any Hannah had ever heard. The matron looked up at Gage and smiled. “If’n ye’re not aware of it, Gage Thornton, yer bondswoman could teach me a thing or two, and it wouldn’t be ’bout cookin’ either. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, that she does, not ta mention havin’ a voice o’ an angel. I’m thinkin’ I ought ta come over an’ sit in on some o’ Andrew’s readin’ lessons once they start. I was ne’er much good at that sort o’ thing.”
“Shemaine is everything I had hoped to find and more,” Gage admitted.
“And ye said she couldn’t cook,” Hannah chided affably, shaking her head.
Gage lifted his wide shoulders in a casual shrug. “I don’t think Shemaine realizes yet just how talented she really is. She’s a wonder when cooking food, but she mothers Andrew as if he were her very own. The boy is quite taken with her.”
“Aye, I saw their affection for each other this mornin’ when Shemaine was tryin’ ta protect Andy from me boys. She didn’t know quite how ta go ’bout it for fear o’ woundin’ me feelin’s. I let the roughhousin’ go on for a wee bit just ta see how she’d react, an’ I can tell ye true, no mother hen e’er watched over one o’ her biddies with as much concern as she showed for yer son.”
“Shemaine seems naturally inclined to be a mother,” Gage responded. “I think she has a special gift for bringing peace and assurance to the child, making him feel wanted, nurtured . . . and loved.”
Hannah smiled in satisfaction as she discerned the change that had also taken place in the man. All the girl’s attributes which he had claimed Andrew had benefited from had obviously touched him as well. He seemed far more relaxed and at peace with himself than she had seen him since that horrible day of Victoria’s death. “ ‘Tis fortunate ye are ta have found Shemaine. Women like her are not usually ta be had for any size purse.”
A distant mewling invaded Shemaine’s slumber, but she was reluctant to be parted from her dreams. Once again she had experienced the thrill and exhilaration of racing across her father’s countryside estate on the back of her stallion, Donegal. She had felt the wind whipping her hair, snatching at the hem of her habit, and had rejoiced in the freedom to ride in whatever direction caught her fancy.
Her revelry gradually dissipated as the whimpering continued and the bars of Newgate Prison closed around her. She was haunted once again by the cries and hopeless sobs of the destitute, the shuffling feet and restless pacing that were always accompanied by the clank of chains. The dreadful black despair of utter gloom swept over her, almost smothering the breath from her.
Shemaine came upright with a sharp gasp and, as her heart thumped frantically against the wall of her chest, she peered intently into the darkness around her, searching for the dour-faced inmates of Newgate and waiting in apprehension for the scraping feet to approach. By slow, agonizing degrees Shemaine managed to separate reality from the deluding dimensions of sleep and finally realized that what she was actually hearing was Andrew whimpering in his bedroom downstairs. She listened for several moments longer, expecting to hear some movement of the elder Thornton in response to the plaintive sobs, but the weeping grew louder and, it seemed, a bit more frightened. She could not imagine Gage sleeping through his son’s tears, and she began to chafe. What if something had happened to his father? Or if the elder had gone to the privy and couldn’t hear Andrew?
Feeling an urgency to comfort the boy, Shemaine tossed aside the covers and shrugged into her dressing robe as she hurriedly descended. The door of Gage’s bedroom stood open, but the firelight from the kitchen hearth, combined with the moonlight streaming through the windows above the bed, provided enough illumination to assure her that her master was not in the parlor or his bedroom. Cautiously she crept through the elder’s private quarters toward Andrew’s small nook, half afraid that she had been mistaken and she would bump into the man before reaching the boy. But her fears proved groundless. There was no one but Andrew there.
The sobs were coming more harshly now, wrenching Shemaine’s heart, and she quickly crossed to the child’s trundle bed and gathered him up in her arms. Soothing him with a cradlesong, she paced about the room as she snuggled him close against her, kissed his tear-streaked cheek and smoothed his tousled hair. Gradually the frightened crying ceased and the child’s breathing deepened, but when she sought to put him down again, a fearful gasp escaped him. Once again she held him close and retraced her steps from his bed to the much larger one in the master’s bedroom, back and forth, over and over until she felt the tiny head begin to droop over her shoulder. She hushed her singing and, in slow stages, halted her pacing, wanting to make absolutely sure that the boy would stay asleep once she returned him to his bed.
Shemaine was admiring his handsome features in the meager light, swaying from side to side, when she became mindful of a presence in the larger room. It was not so much the sound of the man’s entrance that alerted her as it was his shivering shudder as he stepped to the far side of the bed. She glanced up, intending to explain her reason for intruding into his private domain, but words failed her when she saw him standing naked in a shaft of moonlight. Tiny droplets of water gleamed like diamonds over his muscular torso and limbs, evidencing his recent dip in the stream outside. At present, he had a towel over his head and was vigorously rubbing his hair. Apparently he had not yet become aware of her.
Shemaine, however, was acutely conscious of him. She had never seen a naked man before, and the sight of that long, powerful form was rather shocking to her virginal senses. Yet at the same time she was completely enthralled with the beauty and bold, manly grace of it. As his clothes had revealed, his shoulders were incredibly wide and had no need of the padding that pompous lords usually demanded in their coats. His broad chest tapered sleekly to a tautly muscled waist and narrow hips. A thin line of hair traced downward from his lightly furred chest across his flat, hard belly, drawing her eyes irresistibly lower.
Her cheeks burning, her heart hammering wildly, Shemaine stood frozen, unable to drag her gaze away. For all of her mother’s delicate, somewhat embarrassed descriptions of the male form and her gentle counseling about what to expect once she married Maurice, Shemaine realized that she had not expected quite so much . . . maturity!
Having no wish to draw attention to herself and thereby suffer the humiliation of having her master know that she had looked upon his male nudity and not fled like a flustered maid, Shemaine retreated very slowly, very quietly, stepping backward toward Andrew’s small room. Even so, her racing thoughts could find no way of escape, not when she knew she would eventually have to pass near the man.
Suddenly Shemaine halted, aware of a change taking place in the manly loins. The male flesh was now becoming much more pronounced and obtrusive.
Her gaze flew upward, piercing the shafts of moonlight and shadowed spaces, until she met the silvery-lit orbs smiling at her from the far side of the bed. The towel lay about Gage’s sturdy neck, and his aims hung relaxed at his sides. The black hair, wetly spiked and wildly tossed, gleamed in the gloom.
“I’m sorry,” she strangled out, painfully aware that she had been apologizing much too often since her indentureship. “Andrew was crying, and I didn’t know where you had gone!”
In the silence that followed, Shemaine pivoted crisply about on bare feet and lowered the boy into his bed. Feeling the heat of shame consume her, she closed her eyes, trembling in every part of her body as she struggled to gather her scattered wits. Despite her best efforts, a vision of what sh
e had just seen was now forever lodged in her memory. It blazed before her mind’s eye as clearly as if she still stared at the man.
Whirling, Shemaine kept her gaze carefully averted from that male nakedness as she fled to the open door and made her escape into the parlor. In her haste she stumbled on the stairs and gritted her teeth against the sudden pain throbbing in her bruised shin, but she did not pause. Flinging herself into her cot, she turned her face to the wall and yanked the covers up over her head, wishing fervently the world would dissolve around her.
CHAPTER 10
Shemaine faced the morning with a definite dread, reluctant to meet her master and suffer through the painful trauma of being within close proximity to him when both of them would find it difficult to think of anything except the night before, when he had caught her ogling his manly parts like some lewd strumpet. It had been embarrassing enough when she had found her hand caught against his loins, but what had happened during the night was even more humiliating. She yearned to lie abed until Gage went to his shop to work, but her duties as an indentured servant denied her the privilege of hiding out in her room like a spineless coward. She must make the best of their inevitable meeting, no matter how fervently she longed to vanish into thin air before that particular event came about.
When she made a cautious descent, Shemaine was relieved to find that Gage had already gone outside to attend his morning chores. It was not until she had breakfast laid out on the table and had found time to dress herself that he returned to the cabin with his usual offering of rations, a basket of eggs and a pail of milk. He glanced in appreciation at the food-laden table before setting the basket and pail on the counter beside her.
“It smells delicious, Shemaine.” Since she had been there, Gage had come to anticipate the morning meal perhaps more than any other, for she seemed to excel in cooking tasty dishes that he had memories of eating in his father’s home in England. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”
Timid about meeting his gaze, Shemaine focused her attention on pouring the contents of a small pan into a gravy boat. “ ‘Tis ready to be eaten as soon as I finish dishing up this sauce. Should I awaken Andrew?”
“Let him sleep. Poor little fellow, he had a hard night.”
However innocent his remark had been, it seemed to Shemaine a painfully blunt reminder of her horrendous blunder. The spoon that she had been about to put into the sauce shot through her fingers as if it had stiff springs attached to it. As she watched in horrified dismay, it skittered across the edge of the counter before plummeting to the floor. She bent quickly to retrieve it, but nearly collided with Gage, whose reflexes were faster. He scooped up the ladle and, offering it back to her, clapped his heels together. She shot a nervous glance toward him as she took it, provoking his curiosity. He could not help but notice her scarlet cheeks and the incertitude visible in her eyes. Stepping close, he canted his head in an effort to draw her gaze upward, but she feigned a sudden need to find another spoon and refused to look at him.
Gage was determined. He took her small chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face toward the light until he could search the beautiful visage. “What ails you, Shemaine?” he asked gently. “Do you think I care a whit that you saw me naked last night? Or that you may have spent a fleeting moment looking at me and perhaps appeasing your maidenly curiosity about men? Good heavens, girl, I understand that you went in there not to seduce me, but to comfort my son, and I’m grateful for that. What I must do is apologize for startling you, but a man cannot always control how his body responds to a beautiful woman. I’ve not been with another since Victoria died. There was certainly no woman in the hamlet I wanted to bed down with, and seeing you in my room aroused longings I’ve struggled hard to suppress since becoming a widower. I’m a man, Shemaine, subject to all the feelings and flaws of my gender. As a man, I greatly admire your beauty and enjoy your presence in my home. Watching you pleases me. You’re soft, alluring, gentle, and kind. You grace this cabin and our lives like a delicate flower that bestirs the senses with its fragrance and beauty. In the short time I’ve known you, I’ve come to realize I do desire you as a woman. Yet I would never force you, Shemaine . . . or knowingly hurt you. I want the best for you, so don’t feel chagrined about what happened last night. As you may have surmised, I enjoyed you looking at me. It was most stimulating to find you in my room. Condemn me for that if you will, or simply accept me as a man who’s very interested in you as a woman.”
A soft, quavering sigh wafted from Shemaine’s lips. “I didn’t want to face you today,” she admitted diffidently. “I thought I couldn’t bear it.”
“You needn’t ever feel ashamed in my presence, Shemaine. I’ll never chide you for having honest feelings or being human.”
Still unsure of herself and even less certain of her situation, Shemaine inclined her head toward the table, murmuring quietly, “Your breakfast is getting cold, Mr. Thornton.”
“After you, Miss O’Hearn,” Gage replied, stepping back into a gallant bow and sweeping an arm before him invitingly.
“Daddee, where’re you?” Andrew called from the bedroom before he came tottering drowsily into the parlor.
“There you are, Sleepyhead,” Gage cried with a chuckle. Squatting down, he held his arms out wide for the boy.
Laughing, the youngster ran into his father’s embrace and was swung high into the air. Then upon gathering the boy close, Gage playfully nipped at his taut little stomach through the nightshirt, exaggerating a monstrous growl that evoked gleeful shrieks and giggles.
When Andrew was finally lowered into his high chair, he surveyed the food laid out before him and gave Shemaine a toothy grin. “Yummy! Yummy!”
Gage grinned at his bondslave. “I think that means ‘Let’s eat.’ Shall we oblige him?”
Shemaine found herself once more enchanted by the pair and, despite her continuing reservations, showed her obeisance with a curtsy. “I’m here to obey, m’lord.”
“Any claims to that title I left behind me in England,” Gage remarked offhandedly.
Shemaine’s brows gathered in confusion as she slowly straightened. Wondering what he had meant, she queried, “Is there a Lord Thornton?”
“My father, William, Earl of Thornhedge.” Gage lifted his shoulders in a casual dismissal of the title’s significance. “Not as impressive as a marquessate, but here in the colonies a title holds little importance to most of the populace, except for the British dignitaries.”
He swept a hand to indicate the bench behind her, silently bidding Shemaine to take a seat. As she did so, he slipped into the bench opposite her. Once before he had told her the story about Ol’ One Ear to put her at ease. This morning he recounted the tale of Sly Tucker trying to escape a bee while unloading supplies from the back of a wagon.
“Sly took a flying leap off the rear of it, but his toe got caught in a hole at the very end. He fell forward like a dead weight and sprawled flat on the ground, nearly breaking his nose. It was so badly bruised and skinned, everyone who saw him started laughing. Sly is usually rather gentle in nature, but the guffaws the incident provoked were loud enough to set him on edge. He mumbled many times afterwards that he would have been better off letting the bee sting him than contending with all the hilarity provoked by the sight of his swollen and bruised nose.”
Shemaine found herself suddenly giggling at the story. Then she glanced up and found her master regarding her with warmly glowing eyes, as if satisfied that he had been able to draw her out of her timidity. Shemaine dipped her head in acknowledgment of his accomplishment. “Thank you, Mr. Thornton.”
Gage feigned naïveté. “What did I do?”
“I think you know well enough,” she countered. “I was terribly discomfited by what happened last night, but you made me laugh, and for a moment I forgot that dreadful incident.”
He cocked his head at a contemplative angle. “What did you find so dreadful about it?”
Taken aback by his q
uestion, Shemaine had difficulty explaining all the emotions she had felt after realizing he had caught her ogling him. When she finally answered him, she could not keep her gaze from wavering beneath his steadfast stare, though she spoke with candor. “The fact that you might have thought me forward, Mr. Thornton.”
Gage shrugged away the notion. “You’re merely an innocent, curious about men. ‘Tis natural for an untried maid to be inquisitive.”
“You seem to know a lot about women, Mr. Thornton,” she gently goaded.
His lips curved with amusement as his brown eyes challenged her. “Certainly more than you know about men, Miss O’Hearn.”
Shemaine stared at him in shock, unable to dispute his statement. “Aye,” she sighed at length, lowering her gaze to her plate. “There is much I have to learn about men.”
Gage smiled at her bowed head, for he could think of no finer delight than to be the one to instruct her.
Ramsey Tate knocked on the back door while they were still at the morning meal, and leaned in to inquire, “May I enter?”
“Aye, Ramsey, come on in,” Gage bade, sliding down the bench to allow his friend to sit beside him. When Ramsey entered the kitchen, Gage couldn’t help but notice the dark circles beneath the man’s eyes, but he kept his inquiry simple. “Have you eaten?”
“Not anythin’ what looked this good, I can assure ye,” Ramsey said with a rueful chuckle, but he held up a hand to halt Shemaine when she made to rise and fetch a plate. “Nay, miss, I’d better not. What I ate is sittin’ like a hard lump on me belly. I cooked it meself an’ been regrettin’ it e’er since.”
“You’re here much earlier than usual,” Gage stated. “Is anything the matter?”
“Me missus is in a bad way,” Ramsey replied glumly. “I’m worried ’bout her, an’ I’d like ta stay with her today in case she needs me.”
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