Petals on the River

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  It was just an illusion, Shemaine warned herself, and rarely was reality as enticing as one’s fantasies. In an effort to redirect her thoughts to something less titillating, she sought to turn her reverie into a memory of an evening when she had entertained Maurice in her family’s parlor. In guiding her imagination in a close semblance of accuracy, the figure of her fiancé was just as tall, his hair just as black, his smile just as engaging as her master’s, but instead of amber-brown eyes, thickly lashed ebon eyes gleamed above her own. Maurice’s lips were touched with a natural reddish hue, and as he lowered his head, they parted in eagerness of the kiss he would extract from hers.

  But suddenly her dream went awry, and it was a sun-bronzed visage that loomed close above her own and her master’s opening mouth seizing hers with ardent desire. Just as swiftly, an intoxicating ecstasy surged upward within her, evoking a strange craving in her womanly being that was unsettling at best. To be sure, the delectable warmth that swept through her breasts was no less devastating than the feelings elicited when Gage’s arm had casually stroked her curves during shooting practice not so long ago.

  Shemaine lifted a trembling hand and, in distraction, wiped at the sheen of perspiration now dampening her burning cheeks. The shock of her reaction completely shattered the fanciful notion that she was an impenetrable fortress of serene virtue. Where once she might have remained calm and collected in spite of Maurice’s attempts to persuade her that they were as good as married, she was not at all sure she would stay so coolly detached if Gage Thornton ever employed a like amount of dedication to winning her favors. Her cheeks grew hot and her breath came in quickening snatches as she recalled his manly loins casually brushing her backside while he demonstrated the proper way to hold a muzzleloader. Treading close on the heels of that memory came another bold-reminder of his male nudity bathed in moonlight. With it came a burgeoning heat that flared upward, setting her senses aflame. The depth of her arousal shocked her unduly. Indeed, if she could be affected to such an extent by memories, then there was definitely a side of her that was not nearly as levelheaded and reserved as she once might have supposed.

  Having now discovered a sensuality within herself that she had previously been ignorant of, Shemaine found it difficult to keep her thoughts well aligned to that which a virtuous maid might ponder. Her sudden propensity for wayward musings became even more apparent when Gage returned to the cabin later that afternoon. His very presence in the kitchen evoked an unfamiliar tumult within her, making her fearful of what he might discern if he looked into her flushed face or took note of her trembling fingers.

  When he sprawled on the rug in the parlor to wrestle and play with Andrew, the distance between them gave her relief. Even so, as she grated carrots, her eyes were wont to covertly caress the manly torso. It shocked her unduly when she found herself closely eyeing the buckskin breeches that lay softly over his loins. The torpid fullness led her mind swiftly astray to visions of his long, nude body glistening with silvery droplets. The kindling warmth that swept through her in ever-strengthening surges affected her breathing until she became a bit ambiguous about her own reserve. In truth, if she were again faced with his intrusion into her bath and he looked at her with as much hunger as he had that night, she wondered if she would be quite so insistent upon him leaving her as she had been then.

  The conversation was a trifle lacking at supper. Gage and Shemaine were keenly aware of each other, yet reluctant to reveal the extent of their preoccupation or their growing enthrallment. Across the width of the trestle table, their eyes surreptitiously drank their fill, stroking the face and form of the recipient of their attention. A brief contact of a hand or arm left their skins tingling, their senses stimulated. A murmured word or a direct gaze readily gained their undivided attention. Later, when they brushed against each other in passing, kindling fires were a delectable yet unquenchable torture for which neither could find a befitting assuagement.

  Despite the assurances Gage had given his bondslave, he was relentlessly drawn toward reflections of that moment when he had finished toweling his hair and swept the linen around his neck. In the soft aura bathing the interior, he had noticed Shemaine right away, even as she backed stealthily toward Andrew’s room. Her translucent eyes had glimmered, reflecting the silvery light streaming through the window and betraying the direction in which she stared. He had dared not move lest he frighten her beyond reason, but he had felt much like a man subjected to an exquisite seduction while bound to a stake. The interlude was so enticing, even in recall, that it roused all the painful yearnings he had been contending with, even while he struggled to emulate a leisured calm. In truth, he longed to create other such moments wherein he could instruct Shemaine further in the intimate secrets of a man’s body.

  After the meal, Gage found he had little patience to expend on his drawings. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon setting aright several mistakes made by his apprentices during his absence, and he was plagued with a desire to simply relax and do something other than work before he went to bed. In heightening frustration he closed his desk, announcing in a disgruntled tone that he had finished for the evening if Shemaine cared to take an early bath. He put Andrew to bed and returned to the parlor to find her carrying buckets of steaming water into the back room. Sitting down in the rocking chair near the hearth, he picked up a book to read, hoping it would soothe the inexplicable restlessness that roiled within him. Though he made a concerted effort to concentrate on the pages, the words in the volume could not hold his attention for any measurable length of time, not when his gaze was inclined to wander above the pages and follow Shemaine as she scurried back and forth between the hearth and the back corridor. After dumping the last pail of water, she came to stand beside his chair with a towel folded over her arm, drawing his bemused attention.

  “What is it, Shemaine?”

  “I thought since there’s a bit of a nip in the air this evening, sir, that you might enjoy taking a bath indoors tonight,” she explained in a nervous rush. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing you one, if you’re of such a mind.”

  A hot bath in a tub was a luxury Gage had not been able to indulge in very often since Victoria’s death. He had been far too busy with work and other things, and his nightly dips in the pond had sufficed for cleanliness. Any sensible man would find the idea of a relaxing soak in a tub most appealing, and he considered himself such.

  “And what of you, Shemaine?” he asked, hesitating. “ ‘Twill take time to heat more water. Will you have to wait until a later hour before you can take your bath?”

  “There’ll be enough hot water for me as soon as you’re done, sir,” she answered, drawing his attention to the large cauldron that she had brought in from outside and had placed above the fire. “I didn’t think it fair that you should suffer in a cold stream while your bondslave enjoyed so many comforts indoors.” Tilting her head at a contemplative angle, she inquired, “Might you be interested, sir?”

  “Indeed!” Coming to his feet, Gage set aside the book and began loosening the laces at the neck of his buckskin shirt. “To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to taking a cold bath outside tonight.”

  “I didn’t think you would be,” Shemaine murmured softly with a smile. Handing him the towel, she swept a hand toward the back room and, mimicking the deportment of a prim chambermaid, bobbed a pert curtsy. “Everything is in readiness, m’lord.”

  His brown eyes glowed with warmth as he gazed down at her. “You spoil me, Shemaine.”

  Her lips curved upward even as she tried to hide a blush of pleasure. “Is it not gratifying to be spoiled once in a while, sir?”

  “Your very presence spoils me to distraction, Shemaine,” he replied with sudden candor.

  Shemaine could only wonder if he now found her occupancy of the cabin an impediment to his work, for he had seemed almost angry when he had left his desk. It would be a decided turnabout in her experience with men if she were to desire to be wit
hin proximity to one who wanted nothing to do with her. Contritely she dropped her gaze to the floor, her feelings smitten. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Amusement tugged at the corners of Gage’s mouth as he contemplated the bowed head. “So distracting, Shemaine,” he murmured, “I doubt that I shall ever observe the subtle sway of another woman’s skirts as much I’ve watched yours tonight.”

  Shemaine’s head snapped up in surprise, and she stared at him with jaw aslack. His bold gaze never wavered, and finally, in some confusion, she breathed, “Warts off a toad.”

  Gage’s brow arched dubiously. “I think you lay too much credit to my wit, Shemaine, and not the sobriety of my tongue.”

  With that, he left her and strode across the room, pulling the buckskin shirt over his head as he went. Shemaine turned, still a bit overwhelmed by his acknowledgment, but she soon realized her mistake in letting her eyes follow him. The sight of those taut muscles flexing and knotting beneath the smooth, bronze skin of his back was immensely disquieting to a young woman whose passions had just begun to emerge from her inner being.

  Gage paused at the door and, half turning, relented to a lopsided grin. “I don’t suppose you’d consider scrubbing my back.”

  Shemaine had difficulty subduing a grin of her own as she imagined the surprise he would suffer if she accepted his invitation. Knowing that he teased her, she shooed him away with a flick of a hand. “Be off with you, sir. I’ll be having no more of your shenanigans now. You’ve addled me quite enough as it is.”

  Even after he had closed the door behind him, Shemaine could still hear his chuckling laughter in the quietness of the cabin. Smiling to herself, she began putting together the dry ingredients for a batch of biscuits that she intended making the next morning, but as she worked, fleeting images of her master in various stages of undress began to assail her senses once again. She grew flushed and warm, while in the depths of her being there again sprouted that strange, insatiable longing that grew apace with her mindful meanderings, as if her young body desperately hungered for fulfillment from that particular entity whose face and form haunted her imaginings.

  When Gage came out to the kitchen again, he was clothed in nothing more than the buckskin breeches he had been wearing when he went in. His long, bony feet were bare, and his black hair gleamed wetly beneath the glow of the hanging lantern. He said no word to her but went directly to the hearth, dipped two pails into the kettle of water simmering over the fire and carried them to the back room, where he emptied them into the tub. Returning twice more to the fireplace, he refilled the buckets nigh to brimming each time and dumped them into the washtub as well. Finally he came to stand before Shemaine and, with a flourish of a hand, showed a leg in a gentlemanly bow, copying her earlier performance.

  “Your bath awaits, my lady.”

  Shemaine settled her hands on her narrow waist and raised a skeptical brow. “So! ‘Tis your grand self doing chores for a bondslave, eh?” she chided, but her eyes sparkled brightly, nearly mesmerizing him. “As if I couldn’t empty the tub myself and fill it up again. A turnabout, to be sure, Mr. Thornton.”

  Gage gave her a crooked grin as his eyes swept her in a way that bestirred her senses, for he made no attempt to hide the desire smoldering in his eyes. “Have a care, Shemaine. The water may be a bit hot for a woman of such soft, fair skin, and if you scream, I will surely come running. But this time, be warned. I won’t be in a mood to leave at your command.”

  Leaving her, he ambled leisurely across the parlor toward his bedroom, unaware of the green eyes that devoured every graceful movement of his slow, animal saunter. Realizing that she was allowing her fascination with the man to dominate her thoughts, Shemaine let her breath out in slow, halting degrees and turned away. Such lustful musings could well undermine her intent to remain unscathed for the entirety of her indentureship, especially when she was being so persistently besieged so early in her years of service.

  For a time, the night passed in wakeful silence for the adult occupants of the cabin. They lay in their separate beds, staring through the moonlit shadows at their ceilings as they listened attentively to the sounds that drifted from the upper story or lower bedroom. A creaking of a bed, a cough, a sigh, a muttered curse attested to the disquiet with which each contended. It was a late hour, indeed, before Shemaine realized she lay in rigid repose upon her cot, completely alert to the restless tossing and turning of the man downstairs. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could envision him standing beside her bed, looking down at her with eyes glowing with desire, and then her arms would lift to welcome him with all the hunger and passion she was capable of exhibiting.

  This will never do! Shemaine rebuked herself and, with tenacious resolve, took her wandering thoughts in tow. She folded a pillow over her ears to impede any intrusion into her concentration and began to mentally recite a mélange of poems that had become endeared to her throughout the years. By slow degrees, she lulled herself to a relaxed drowsiness and, with a final sigh, turned on her side to drift into the cradling arms of Morpheus.

  In his lonely bed downstairs Gage could not quench the fires of lust that beset him and denied him sleep. His thoughts were filled with tormenting visions of his bondslave lying upon her narrow couch upstairs, her heavy braids coiling tantalizingly around her naked breasts and her arms outstretched and beckoning to him. He saw her green eyes grow limpid with desire and her soft lips part to receive his kiss. He sensed in every fiber of his being the stirring excitement of his manhood pressing home and her slender limbs clasping him to her. But no satisfying release came to appease his passion, and he found himself more agitated than ever. It took a concerted effort to force his thoughts upon a different course, a far less appealing path to be sure, but one that eventually brought him tranquillity . . . and finally restful slumber.

  Desiring to set her mind to something less disturbing than the handsome face and physique of her master, Shemaine began to ponder the two horses which her master kept in the paddock. Besides the mare that Gage had hitched to the wagon for their trip into Newportes Newes, there was also a rather nice-looking gelding in the corral. Shemaine could think of no better diversion for herself than teaching Andrew how to ride. She broached the subject shortly after Gage completed his morning chores and came into the kitchen to eat.

  “Can either of your horses be ridden?”

  “They’re both well broke to saddle and harness,” Gage replied, lifting Andrew into his high chair. The morning meal awaited them, but he noticed that his bondslave seemed unusually absorbed with the subject of horses. “The gelding is a bit headstrong and needs a more experienced rider, but the mare is well behaved. Why do you ask?”

  Shemaine explained in a rush before she lost her nerve. “I was wondering if you might allow me to give Andrew a riding lesson after my morning chores are done.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Gage answered, sliding onto his bench as she finally settled across from him. “Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll come down and saddle the mare for you. She’ll be better behaved for Andrew.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Shemaine hastened to assure him with a flitting smile. “My father required me to know how to saddle and bridle a horse at a very early age.”

  “Well, at least I can brush her down for you,” Gage insisted, spooning food onto Andrew’s plate.

  Shemaine folded her hands in her lap as she carefully rejected his help. “Your offer is most appreciated, Mr. Thornton, but I would hate to take you away from your work when I’m fully capable of doing it myself. Besides, Andrew will have to learn.” It would be better by far if her master kept his distance and allowed her to cool her infatuation. That was the whole point of asking him to let her teach his son how to ride, to get her thoughts directed elsewhere. Shemaine glanced quickly away as she ventured to another request. “I was also wondering if you would mind if I rode with Andrew.”

  Gage was impressed by the clearness of her eyes in prof
ile, for they looked like tiny, rounded caps of emerald glass afixed to the white. “Victoria’s sidesaddle is in the tack room,” he murmured in distraction. “You’re welcome to use it, if you wish.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Thornton,” she said, demurely yielding him her attention as she handed a basket of biscuits across the table, “but I think it would be better if Andrew and I rode together without a saddle. I’m sure yours would be much too big for him and would not allow me to sit at ease behind him.”

  Andrew had followed their conversation closely, and after a momentary silence in which the elders searched each other’s gazes, he leaned forward to claim Shemaine’s attention. “Sheeaim an’ Andee gonna ride horsey?”

  She nodded. “After I finish my morning chores.”

  “Andee help you,” the boy eagerly volunteered.

  It was mid-morning when Shemaine finally hoisted Andrew astride the mare and, after taking a place behind him, adjusted her full skirts to preserve her modesty. The boy was delighted and anxious to learn all that she could teach him. He proved most attentive, and soon he was reining the horse around the yard himself, albeit under her careful supervision.

  As for Gage, the sawdust-covered windows of the cabinet shop greatly hindered his view, and wiping the panes with a dampened cloth, he realized, left them streaked with a thick, murky film. After noticing the pair in the back yard, his usual zeal and dedication to work declined sharply. Indeed, he seemed oblivious to his apprentices and the several questions they asked him. Gage had sensed in the kitchen that Shemaine really didn’t want him anywhere around during the lessons, and though he tried to restrain himself, the sight of her riding in elegant form behind his son sharply piqued his interest, and he was soon motivated by a growing desire to watch her at closer range. Finally he gave up the struggle and, with a muttered excuse, left the shop, heedless that Sly and the others were nudging each other and exchanging meaningful winks.