Petals on the River (27 page)

"Is there something you wish of me, Roxanne?" Shemaine questioned,

trying to bring a quick conclusion to her predicament.
 
"If not, I

should get Andrew dressed now."

"Mistress Roxanne to you, girl," the blonde corrected haughtily. "If you

don't learn anything else, you should at least be taught the proper way

to address your betters."

"Mistress Roxanne, if you'd prefer," Shemaine replied rigidly.

The back door opened and closed, and manly footsteps progressed a short

distance into the corridor.
 
A shuffling of papers evidenced the fact

that Gage had stopped at his desk and was searching through it.

Shemaine felt a surge of relief with his presence.
 
"Mr.
 
Thornton is Lo

here now," she readily announced to the woman.
 
"Perhaps you'd care to

visit with him."

Gage heard her voice but continued leafing through his receipts as he

called out, "Is someone here, Shemaine9"

"You have a visitor, Mr. Thornton," Shemaine declared over her shoulder.

In the next instant she found herself stumbling back from the portal as

Roxanne pushed her way in.

Gage stepped to the kitchen door and then halted abruptly when he

recognized his guest.
 
Though he tried to conceal his annoyance, his

brows gathered in a tense frown, for he knew what would be forthcoming.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Roxanne.
 
I thought you'd be taking care

of your father."

The blonde lifted her chin in the guise of a suffering martyr.
 
"I came

to see what you had bought for yourself, Gage, since you had made no

effort to inform me of your intentions.
 
Mrs.
 
Pettycomb, on the other

hand, was most eager to bring me news of your new purchase.
 
Twas so

gracious of you to let me know that you had found someone to replace me

and that my services would no longer be required.

''I told you before, Roxanne, that I would be needing someone and

couldn't wait until your father got back on his feet," Gage countered,

yearning to put Mrs.
 
Pettycomb out of her meddling misery.
 
"You must

have been aware of that fact more than anybody.
 
I'm sorry I didn't have

time to stop by your place and tell you yesterday, but with the storm

and all, I had to get back here.
 
I was just making plans to come into

town today and had intended to let you know while I was there." He

paused, curbing a vexed sigh.
 
He was sorry that she had been subJected

to the gossip's insensitivity, but he had given Roxanne plenty of

warning.
 
She just hadn't wanted to listen.
 
"I should have realized

Mrs.
 
Pettycomb would beat a path to your door in her eagerness to be

the first to tell you the news.
 
And for that, I must apologizeþ"

"Of all the women in this area," Roxanne interrupted, having dismissed

much of what he had said, "why did you have to buy a convict to care for

your son?
 
And this one in particular?" Her voice became wheedling,

almost pleading.
 
"Aren't you afraid of what this creature might do to

Andrew?"

Though his hackles rose at her questions, Gage managed to meet Roxanne's

gaze with a tolerant stare.
 
He was unwilling to hurt her with the

truth, that he had made up his mind to be free of her long before the

smithy had ever run afoul of a horse and gotten his leg broken.
 
But he

refused to be grilled about his motives for singling out .
 
_ Shemaine

as his choice.
 
"I'm capable of making rational judgments as to the

merits of the woman I engage as a nursemaid, Roxanne, and I'm confident

that Shemaine is everything I was looking for."

Wondering what effect the conversation was having on the girl, Gage

allowed his gaze to stray beyond Roxanne.
 
Shemaine was clearly

distressed, but the main reason seemed to stem from the fact that she

was progressively losing her struggle to hold Andrew in her arms.
 
Her

whole body was shaking with her effort to keep a grip on him.
 
Indeed, a

fall seemed imminent.

Gage ran to help his bondslave, giving little thought to how quickly he

would be rousing his visitor's jealous indignation. Shemaine was more

than willing to yield her burden to more capable arms and leaned forward

as her master slipped an arm between them to gather his son to him.
 
The

shock of that steely limb sliding against her breast sent a hot blush

rushing into Shemaine's cheeks, and in painful embarrassment she sought

to retreat and was brought immediately up short.
 
To her chagrin, she

found herself a prisoner of Andrew, whose fingers had become entangled

in the torn lace of her collar.
 
Urgently seeking to free herself, most

of all from the man, Shemaine-struggled blindly behind her neck to free

the tiny digits.

"Here, let me," Gage urged, brushing one of her hands aside. "You're

only making it worse."

Though excruciatingly conscious of her predicament, Shemaine stood

submissively still, not wishing to compound her dilemma.
 
With Andrew

between them, Gage had to lean into her to see behind her neck as he

sought to unravel the lace from his son's fingers.
 
Totally conscious of

him, Shemaine dared not lift her gaze to his handsome features, but kept

it fixed unswervingly on Andrew, who patiently endured their attempts to

separate him from Shemaine.

Gage could hardly ignore the intriguing pressure of the soft womanly

bosom against his arm, but as delightful as it was to be snuggled close

to Shemaine, he couldn't allow himself to be carried away, certainly not

with Roxanne standing there watching them.

As she viewed the pair, Roxanne was confronted by familiar yearnings

that had been far too frequently felt during the length of her

infatuation with Gage Thornton.
 
She longed with all of her heart to be

where the bartered woman was at that precise moment, but she stood

alone, for the most part forgotten.
 
It wasn't the first time she had

been overlooked when another woman was in the room.
 
It was just a

different time and a different face.

It had been a terrible assault on Roxanne's emotions to hear that she

had been replaced by a convict in the Thornton household, but she had

held out hopes that Alma Pettycomb had been deliberately brewing trouble

when the matron claimed the chit was notably pretty, perhaps even more

lovely than Victoria.
 
Roxanne had been nettled, taking offense at what

she perceived was nothing more than an unspoken insult.

The gossipmonger never praised anyone unless she had intentions of

making her listener feel slighted.
 
Roxanne's heart had nearly failed

her when she saw Shemaine for herself and realized that Alma hadn't

exaggerated.

The girl was exceptionally pretty, as difficult as it was for Roxanne to

admit.
 
And although it was the heart of the man she had desired more

than the position, she now saw the danger of that too, being stolen from

her.
 
The fear of losing Gage wasn't anything she hadn't experienced

before, but it flogged Roxanne unmercifully, stirring up an old grudge

that had sunk its cloven claws deep into her heart several years ago.

Roxanne could not bear watching them together a moment longer. Vowing to

lend whatever assistance she could to bring this outrageous and

disgusting farce to an end, she stalked forward with fury flaring in her

eyes.
 
Her frustration was supreme, and she saw the bondslave through a

raging red haze.

Andrew's fingers were finally set free, and with a sigh of relief

Shemaine stumbled back, still refusing to meet the man's gaze.
 
Before

her nerves had time to settle, however, the sound of rapidly advancing

footsteps intruded into her awareness, and she glanced around to find

herself the recipient of a glower so menacing it would have readily put

to shame any that Morrisa had ever bestowed on her.
 
Wary of being

attacked, Shemaine fell back before the other's approach.

The blonde forged on like a fierce gale.
 
"You conniving little bitchþ"

"Roxanne!" Her caustic slur had brought Gage around in sharp surprise.

Although years ago the woman had let him know in no uncertain terms how

he had disappointed her by taking another to wife, she had never

verbally attacked Victoria.
 
But he would tolerate it no better now than

he would have then.
 
"I'll hear no insults in my house Do you hear?"

His crisp tone sliced through Roxanne's fury, and as if in a stunned

daze, she turned and stared at him in painful supplication. "Could you

not see through the girl's ruse, Gage?" she asked in anguish.
 
"Did you

not see how she was throwing herself at you .
 
.
 
. letting you touch

Shemaine's face flamed at the woman's accusation, and she opened her

mouth to protest, but words failed her.
 
How many times had she tried to

deny her guilt before the magistrate's benchj only to be sentenced to

prison?
 
Explanations seemed no less futile now.

Gage was greatly disturbed by Roxanne's behavior.
 
The color had faded

from her cheeks and her eyelids fluttered unsteadily over a lusterless

gaze, as if she balanced precariously on a pinnacle between sanity and

madness.
 
He had no way of predicting what she would do next, whether

she would swoon or fly at his bondslave with claws bared.

Turning his back upon Shemaine, Gage set himself before her as a

protective barrier as he faced his visitor.
 
Once again he tried to

explain, hoping he could bring Roxanne out of her trauma by a softly

spoken rationale.
 
"I thought you understood, Roxanne, that I couldn't

wait until your father was on his feet again.
 
I needed a nursemaid who

would be more accountable to my dictates than to another's, someone who

could teach Andrew to read and cipher in years to come.
 
Shemaine has

been well tutored and is capable of fulfilling those requirements, and I