Petals on the River

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  After her funeral, her father had beseeched William to forgive his family for bringing about the alienation of his son, but in his long and frustrating search, William had come to realize that it had probably been his own prideful stubbornness that had brought about the rift. He had been so determined to force his son to obey him that he had been unwilling to entertain the possibility that Gage might have been an innocent pawn in the lady’s game.

  The back door opened again, and William rose to his feet in anxious haste as Gage strode down the corridor toward the parlor. It was the father rather than the son who quickly traversed the space between them and, through welling tears, gazed upon the younger. It was an older, more mature face the father saw, but with its bronze skin and leanly chiseled features, it was even more handsome than before. In it, William saw a strong duplication of his own, except for his advancing years and the yearning regret that had exacted a harsh toll, leaving deep creases across his brow and a poignant sadness in the lines around his mouth.

  “I nearly gave up all hope of finding you,” William managed to choke out through a gathering thickness in his throat. His stoic demeanor began to waver, and he clasped Gage’s shoulders and shook him gently as if in a desperate effort to make him understand how deeply he had been missed. “I’ve searched for you all these many years without success and have sent men to the far reaches of the world in a hopeless quest to find you. It was only through a chance meeting that I happened upon the man who had captained the ship on which you had sailed. My dear son, can you ever forgive me for driving you away from our home?”

  Gage was astounded at the emotion visible in his father’s face. He had never thought he would see the elder so vulnerable and humble. It was a side of William Thornton that he had never seen before. His mother had died after his twelfth birthday, and the pain of her loss had seemed to harden his father, turning him into a tough disciplinarian. Now here the elder stood, almost sobbing with joy over their reunion.

  The change was so great, Gage felt at odds with himself and a bit cautious about how he should react. He wanted to wrap his arms about his sire and clasp him firmly to his breast in a hearty embrace, but he felt strange and clumsy doing so until his father responded in kind.

  “My son! My son!” William wept against his shoulder.

  The back door creaked open, and Andrew came running in. He halted abruptly when he saw the stranger still in the parlor. The two men turned to the boy, and Andrew noticed a strange wetness in his father’s eyes.

  “Daddee, yu cry?” he asked in amazement.

  In some embarrassment, Gage brushed a hand across his face before he lifted his son in his arms and presented him to his grandfather. “Andy, this is my father, my daddy . . . and your grandfather, your grandpa.”

  “Gran’pa?” Andrew looked at the elder curiously. Malcolm and Duncan had a grandpa who frequently visited them, but his father had never told him before now that he had one, too.

  William held out his arms to take the boy, but Andrew pressed back against his father’s shoulder and shook his head.

  “Where’s Mommy?” Gage queried, realizing that Shemaine had not come in with Andrew.

  The boy waved his arm, pointing toward the back. “Mommee Sheeaim on porch.”

  Gage put his son down and, with gentle firmness, bade him to stay. “Wait here with your grandfather, Andy. I’m just going out to the porch. I’ll be right back.”

  Gage stepped out the rear door and glanced down the lane toward the workshop before he realized that Shemaine was huddled in a knot in a chair at the far end of the porch. Her knees were drawn up close beneath her chin and her arms were folded around her legs, holding them to her chest. As he approached, she cast him a shy glance that clearly bespoke of her trepidation. He squatted on his haunches beside her and peered up at her for a long moment, noting the wetness in the silken lashes. Reaching out, he claimed a slender hand and drew the trembling fingers to his lips for a kiss. “Why didn’t you come in with Andrew?”

  Shemaine shrugged diffidently and cast her gaze away. “I thought you and your father would need some time to be alone together.”

  “Why are you so troubled, then?”

  Cautiously Shemaine withdrew from him and entwined her fingers together as she rested both hands upon her knees. “Mrs. Pettycomb told your father I was a convict.”

  Gage muttered a curse and silently vowed to wring the scrawny neck of that meddlesome busybody. But more importantly he had to know what his father had said or done to hurt his wife. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “No,” she lied, and shook her head, refusing to cause another fissure between Gage and his father, especially so soon after they had been reunited.

  Gage was not at all convinced. “He must have said something.”

  “Nothing!” Shemaine insisted, her voice faltering.

  “You don’t lie very well, Shemaine,” her husband gently chided. “Now tell me, love, what did my father say to you?”

  Shemaine remained stoically mute, and Gage knew it was useless to persist. “Come inside,” he urged, rising to his feet. “I want to present you as my wife.”

  Shemaine realized the futility of resisting as he reclaimed her hand. Rising from the chair, she brushed at the wetness in her eyes and smoothed the hair at her temples, ignoring the long braid that trailed down her back. Her husband regarded her swift attempts to make herself more presentable and smiled as he slipped his arms about her and pulled her close.

  “You’re beautiful just the way you are, my sweet,” he breathed as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was gentle and loving, causing Shemaine to realize just how deeply she had come to love him in the time they had been together. How could she live if William Thornton managed to separate them?

  Her arms crept around his lean waist in a fierce embrace, and she answered his kiss with all of her heart, soul and mind. Finally Gage lifted his head and gazed down at her with glowing eyes. “We’ll finish this later in bed, but if we delay much longer now, Andrew will come looking for us.”

  “We’d better go in, then,” Shemaine murmured. “He doesn’t like to be left with strangers.”

  As soon as they opened the back door, Andrew came racing back to the corridor to meet them. His father swung him up in his arms, smoothing away the worried frown on the boy’s brow, and together the three went in to face his lordship.

  “Father, this is my new wife, Shemaine,” Gage announced rather stiffly. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders as if to affirm his possession of her, he went on to explain. “Andrew’s mother died in an accident about a year ago and left me a widower. Before Shemaine came here, she was betrothed to the Marquess du Mercer in London. While there, she was seized from her parents’ home and, by devious methods, convicted of thievery and shipped here on the London Pride.”

  William remembered seeing the ship when they came into port. He had recognized it as being one among many vessels belonging to their adversary, J. Horace Turnbull. He also knew the Du Mercers and, just before leaving England, had heard some scandal about Maurice’s betrothed fleeing London before a marriage could take place, which some said had positively delighted his grandmother. “Then you and Shemaine haven’t been married very long?”

  Gage felt the rigidity of his own smile. “Long enough to have become appreciative of our union.”

  William stiffened as he noted the firmness in his son’s tone. Obviously the little hussy had wasted no time in complaining to Gage about his displeasure over their marriage. No wonder she looked so embarrassed now. “So, she told you that I didn’t appreciate you taking a convict to wife, eh?”

  Gage’s jaw tensed until the tendons flexed in his cheeks. “Shemaine never said a word about that, Father, but because you’ve never shown such hesitancy before, I thought you might voice your opinion about her.” With each word he uttered, his ire sharpened. “From now on I will insist that when you have anything to say about our marriage that you say it to me instead of Sh
emaine. I don’t appreciate you upsetting my wife, and I will not stand for it, do you hear!”

  Beginning to quake, Andrew hid his face in the bend of his arm as he rested it upon his father’s shoulder. Sensing his son’s distress, Gage laid a consoling hand upon Andrew’s back, knowing he must curb his temper, if only for the child’s sake.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” he apologized arduously. “We seem to be at odds even now. And as yet, I’ve not learned to hold my tongue.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I leave,” William replied, his voice strained. He turned and would have made his way to the door, but Shemaine left Gage’s side and hurried to lay a hand upon the elder’s arm.

  “Don’t go, my lord, please,” she begged. “I don’t want to be the cause of another breach between the two of you. Stay and have supper with us, and if you would consent to share our home for a while, there’s a small bedroom upstairs where you might have a bit of privacy.” Bravely she brushed trembling fingers over the thin, blue-veined hand as she softly cajoled, “You must stay for Andrew’s sake. You’re the only grandparent he has.”

  William looked at her through the tears that had come despite his attempt to force them back. “It has taken me so long to find my son, I hate to leave without getting to know his family better.”

  Shemaine’s heart went out to the lonely man and with a gently coaxing smile, she urged, “Then stay, my lord, and be a part of our family.”

  William gently patted the back of her hand as she continued to stroke his. “Thank you, Shemaine. I would enjoy that.”

  Slipping her arm through his, Shemaine drew him back to Gage. “For Andrew’s sake, there will be no more outbursts,” she pleaded, looking directly at her husband as she took his arm. “You may have nurtured hurts from years long past, my love, but without forgiveness, how can any of us forget the injuries that have been done and release the weight on our hearts?”

  Gage recognized her wisdom, but a long moment passed before he could meet his father’s worried gaze and ask, “Would you like to look over the ship I’m building?”

  Relief flooded through William. “Aye, and I’m interested in seeing your cabinet shop, too.” He swept his hand about to indicate the interior pieces. “Furnishings like these are only seen in the best houses in England. You ought to be very proud of your accomplishments, Gage.”

  Andrew raised his head and looked around at his grandfather, then he peered inquiringly into his father’s face. “Can I come too, Daddee?”

  Gage’s lips twisted upward. “You can help me show your grandfather around.”

  Andrew wrinkled his nose and copied his father’s grin. “Gran’pa goin’ to help yu build ship, Daddee?”

  “He might, if he can learn to take orders like the rest of the men I hire,” Gage teased, causing his father to choke on an intake of air. He clapped the elder on the back to help him regain his breath, but couldn’t resist repeating some of the same requirements his father had once demanded of him. “But you’ll have to start as an apprentice until you’ve proven your worth.”

  William had difficulty deciding whether to cough, groan or laugh. “Blast you, Gage, if you’re not going to take your revenge on me yet!”

  The younger man chuckled as his tension eased. “Aye, I might.”

  In the front bedroom later that evening, Shemaine dragged her nightgown up over her head and tossed it onto the bed before slipping between the sheets and into the waiting arms of her husband. Gage smiled with a mixture of amusement and delight as she cuddled against him.

  “Most women don their nightgown before getting into bed, my sweet, but you do just the opposite.”

  Shemaine nipped playfully at his chest, drawing a surprised start and a laughing “Ouch!” from him. Then she giggled contentedly. “Most women don’t have a man like you waiting for them in their beds, my love.” She swept a hand over his naked body and cooed in admiration at what she found. “If they did, they wouldn’t waste time garbing themselves in a gown. They’d be waiting in their beds with open arms.”

  Gage twisted his head on the pillow, slanting his gaze down upon his wife’s smiling face. “Then why was I the one waiting for you, madam?”

  Lifting a thigh across his, Shemaine wiggled closer until her soft curves and tempting crevices were warmly cleaving to his muscular torso. “Because I had some chores to do in the kitchen after my bath. You didn’t want me to go around stark naked with your father in the house, now did you?”

  “No, madam. Such sights I reserve for my own pleasure,” Gage breathed, clasping her knee and pulling it higher. His hand slid caressingly along the underside of her thigh, moving toward her buttock. “I refuse to share them with anyone.”

  Shemaine’s breath halted blissfully as his hand veered, searching out the softness of her womanhood. “Do you think your father will be able to hear us from upstairs?”

  “Hopefully not, but I’m not going to let fear of that intrude into our pleasure, my love. I’ve been waiting anxiously all afternoon to collect on what you promised on the back porch.”

  Rising up on his chest, she frowned down at him in confusion. “What did I promise?”

  His hand swept upward behind her head and pressed her face near until her lips hovered close above his. “ ‘Twas what your kiss promised, my love, and I’m always eager to reap the fruits of such provocative invitations.”

  Her laughing eyes gleamed brightly in the soft candlelight. “You see an invitation in the simplest twitch of my skirt, sir,” she teased. “Indeed, I’m beginning to think you’ve but one thing continually on your mind, and that is basically and unequivocally mating.”

  Gage grinned up at her. “Now you know me through and through, madam.”

  CHAPTER 18

  William Thornton was not at all sure he enjoyed being awakened by a noisy twittering of birds before the sun showed its face above the horizon. Even so, he was roused to full awareness by a cacophony of shrieks, warbles and strange hissing that went on in the trees beyond the cabin. It became evident to him that he could not go back to sleep with such a racket going on, and he decided to venture outside and begin to explore this strange wilderness.

  After pulling on a pair of breeches, he bundled the tail of his nightshirt into the top of them and then yanked on a pair of boots. He found his way downstairs, unlatched the door and stepped out onto the front porch. An owl passing across his line of vision flapped its wings almost leisurely in comparison to the smaller bird that gave chase close behind it, no doubt seeking retribution for some unknown offense. An early morning raid to steal eggs or hatchlings from a nest might have been the reason for part of the noisy clamor.

  For a moment, William savored the warm, blossom scented air and the moonlit scenery around him, then he crossed to the steps and made his way down the path toward the river. Daylight would be breaking in less than an hour, and he could imagine that the heady sights of a dawning sun coming up on this verdant glade would be better seen from the deck of a ship than from the confines of a cabin. Desiring to indulge himself in a view that promised to be breathtaking, he sauntered down toward the vessel, but as he neared it, he realized that a smaller craft had been pulled ashore alongside and several men were moving furtively to and fro between the two vessels. Stepping behind a tree, William chose to remain hidden until he could determine the intent of the visitors.

  William’s hackles rose in apprehension as he saw a huge hulk of a man making his way up the building slip with a wooden keg on his shoulder. Its heavy weight was made obvious by the way in which the fellow heaved it over into the arms of another who met him at the top of the slip. As William continued to watch, the man returned to the boat to fetch another keg. Then a large, portly man stepped from the small boat and made his way along the river’s edge toward the ship with the aid of a long staff or, more precisely, a soldier’s pike, which he loosely clasped near the head. William had seen that particular pike-assisted stride before, and though the other’s shape had wid
ened throughout the years, he was almost certain it was the same man. His suspicions were promptly confirmed as he heard the man declare to a tar who walked beside him, “Six kegs of gunpowder should splinter every plank aboard her. ‘Twill be just revenge for what those Thorntons once stole from me.”

  William stealthily retreated and quickly made his way back to the cabin. Taking care that he did not alert the miscreants, he pushed the front portal open carefully and hastened to the door of the first bedroom. A quick rap of knuckles on the planks announced his presence as he burst into the moonlit room. He had given the couple no time to respond, and his son bolted upright with a start, drawing a gasp from Shemaine, who had been nestled against him.

  “Gage, you must hurry!” William bade in an urgent whisper. “There are men down by the river, and I think they’re planning on blowing up your ship. If my memory serves me true, ‘tis none other than Horace Turnbull down there directing them.”

  Throwing back the covers with a muttered curse, Gage leapt from the bed and, in two long strides, reached the chair where he had left his clothes the night before. He thrust first one leg and then the other into a pair of buckskin trousers, clothing his naked loins as he asked, “How many men are with him?”

  “I caught sight of at least six, but I’m sure there are more.” Out of the corner of his eye, William saw Shemaine reach for the nightgown that lay atop the covers. Dragging it beneath the bed linens, she swept the covers over her head. From her movements, he could only assume that she was hastily trying to don the garment beneath the makeshift tent.