Petals on the River (37 page)

inside, considerably more than a well-brought-up young lady might feel

comfortable with.
 
But in Newportes Newes, it just happens to be the

best place to get a cooked meal outside of a private home.
 
But if you'd

rather not .
 
.
 
."

Shemaine gave him a brief glimpse of a smile.
 
After her confrontation

with Potts, she hadn't felt like eating anything at Mrs. McGee's.

"Actually, I'm starving, and as long as there's food inside, I wouldn't

care if the place were an old barn."

I'' "We'll probably meet up with more sailors from the London Pride,"

Gage warned.
 
"It's a place that's often frequented by seamen and their

ladies."

Undismayed by his information, Shemaine responded with a casual shrug of

her shoulders.
 
He was apparently trying to fortify her against the

possibility that some unseemly event would take place on the premises,

but she wondered if such an incident could be any worse than what the

prisoners had been subjected to during the ocean crossing.
 
Being caged

with Morrisa for three months had been a very enlightening experience,

one she wished never to repeat.
 
"I think I could even tolerate another

encounter with Mrs.
 
Fitch if it meant having a meal."

Shifting Andrew to his outside arm, Gage slid a hand to the small of her

back and rested it there as they walked along the boardwalk toward the

tavern.
 
Shemaine held herself in rigid reserve, acutely aware of the

tall, handsome man strolling beside her and his lean hand lightly riding

her waist.

A furtive movement in the recessed entrance of the general store made

Gage halt in sudden apprehension.
 
Delaying Shemaine with a hand on her

arm, he silently bade her to wait and put Andrew down beside her.
 
He

crept forward cautiously, wondering if Jacob Potts had decided to come

back and launch another assault.
 
But when he reached the covered entry,

Gage released a sigh of relief, for he saw only the hunchback crouching

in the shadows.

Realizing that he had been found out, Cain shuffled from his cubbyhole

and, leaning forward, peeked around the front of the store at Shemaine.

In his hand he carried a wilted bouquet of wildflowers.
 
Facing Gage, he

held them up, but when the tall man refrained from taking them, Cain

lifted a hand to indicate the girl.

"Floawers .
 
.
 
.
 
faw .
 
.
 
.
 
Shamawn.
 
Plawse .
 
.
 
.
 
gawve .
 
.
 
.

haw .
 
.
 
.

floawers."

"You give them to her," Gage urged, and motioned for his bondswoman to

draw near.
 
"It's all right, Shemaine.
 
It's Cain.
 
He'd like to give

you something."

Shemaine reached down to take Andrew's hand, but he balked at the idea

of going anywhere near the deformed man and shook his head vehemently.

Despite her soft assurances, the boy would not be convinced and hung

back in trepidation, making it absolutely clear he wanted nothing to do

with Cain.
 
Finally leaving him, Shemaine moved to the doorway where his

father stood.
 
At her approach, Cain retreated back into the shadows

again, as if reluctant to let her see him up close, but her smile

encouraged him, and as she waited, he stepped forward clumsily and

handed her the bouquet.

"Thank you for the flowers, Cain.
 
They're very lovely," she murmured

kindly.
 
On an impulse, she leaned forward and bestowed a kiss upon the

man's cheek.

Cain stumbled back in astonishment and gaped up at her.
 
Then, quite

baffled, as if unable to believe what she had done, he gently touched

the place where her lips had brushed.

Gage marveled at her benevolence.
 
" Twould seem you've won his heart,

Shemaine."

She had seen many heart-wrenching sights since her arrest and, in many

cases, had been frustrated by her own helplessness.
 
There was nothing

like cruel incarceration to make one yearn for a kindly word or a

charitable deed.
 
The hateful insults and the mean-spirited persecution

to which she had been repeatedly subjected during her confinement had

instilled within Shemaine a deeper compassion for the pitiful and less

fortunate.
 
It was not hard for her to discern that this poor, unsightly

man, ill-favored from birth, was most desperately in need of friendship

and a little tenderness.

Shemaine clasped the nosegay to her bosom.
 
"I shall treasure your gift,

Cain," she gently pledged.
 
"Thank you again for your kindness and also

for the return of my shoes.
 
I don't know many people here in the

hamlet, so if you don't mind, I shall consider you a friend."

Not knowing what to answer, the misshapen man canted his head to peer up

at Gage as if to glean a bit of understanding from one who knew this

gentle-hearted creature.
 
Gage could offer the hunchback nothing at all,

for he was just as amazed by her compassion as the one upon whom she had

bestowed it.

Bewildered and yet filled with a rare feeling of awe, Cain took his

leave, shuffling away in the opposite direction from where the young

child stood rooted in wide-eyed trepidation.

Gage took pity on his frightened son and, stepping near, swung him up in

his arms.
 
Andrew hugged his father's neck, extremely relieved that he

was safe and the monster man had gone.

"Are you still hungry?" Gage asked softly, drawing back to look into his

son's face.
 
The child nodded eagerly and, with a sudden grin, tightened

his arms around the elder.
 
Gage smiled and embraced him in return.

Glancing toward Shemaine, who seemed poignantly distracted by the

flowers, he whispered in the boy's ear, "What about Shemaine?"

"Come .
 
.
 
.
 
Sheeaim," Andrew called, extending an arm toward her.

"Daddee .
 
.
 
.
 
hungee."

 
s f Shemaine laughed as she glanced at the two grinning males. Heeding

the irresistible summons, she approached them, but the familiarity of

the sprightly tune flowing from the tavern seized hold of her Irish

spirit, and with a soft cry of glee, she danced a fleet-footed jig

toward them, much to Andrew's giggling delight and Gage's smiling

pleasure.

When she fell in beside him, Gage resettled his hand at the small of her

back.
 
It was a nice, comfortable place for his hand to rest, and he

really didn't care what lewd conjectures were being dispersed about the

village in regards to his motivation for buying her.
 
He enjoyed

touching her, and that was enough justification for him.

"I'd better take you home soon," he remarked as his lips twitched with

unquenchable humor.
 
"Or I might find myself fighting off the town

bachelors in droves.
 
And I can assure you, my girl, it wouldn't be

because they'd have a yearning to kill you like Potts tried to do

Indeed!
 
They'd be trying to steal you from me!"

Shemaine could imagine the proud and elegant Edith du Mercer fainting

from shock after witnessing her undignified cavorting. Mimicking the

elder s condescending demeanor, she held out a hand as if laying it upon

the carved silver handle of the tall walking stick the woman had never

gone without and, lifting her chin, strolled forward imperiously.
 
"I

suppose you'd prefer me to act more refined and aloof sir."

Gage's eyes glowed as he viewed her enchanting mime.
 
"Andrew and I like

you just the way you are."

Rising upon her toes, Shemaine twirled about to face him and then sank

into a deep, graceful curtsy equal to those she had once executed at

lavish balls.
 
At their applause, she laughed and threw up her arms in

girlish verve.
 
"You may blame it on the Irish blood, Mr.
 
Thornton.

Tis strong-willed and usually gets the upper hand despite my very best

efforts to control it.
 
More often than not, it tempts me to play the

Jester."

Gage was captivated by her playful antics.
 
"You bring a lightness to

our hearts that we've not experienced for some time, Shemaine," he

acknowledged with a lopsided grin.
 
"You make our spirits soar."

Shemaine felt strangely exhilarated by his relaxed smile.
 
Beaming she

bobbed a curtsy.
 
"I'm delighted you're delighted, sir!"

At Gage's responding laughter, Andrew clapped his small hands showing

his own approval.

"Sheeaim funny, Daddee!"

"You're funny!" Shemaine accused, pressing her face close to the young

one's.
 
She snickered playfully and waggled her head from side to side.

When she straightened, she gently tweaked the small nose, evoking more

giggles.

Once they stepped beyond the tavern door, a loud din assailed their

senses.
 
Andrew wisely covered his ears.
 
Shemaine cringed, wanting to

do the same.
 
Gage promptly suffered second thoughts about his ability

to endure the noisy bedlam.
 
The place was alive with imbibing sailors

and loose women decked out in colorful garb.
 
Shemaine saw Morrisa

Hatcher sitting on a man's knee and leisurely sipping from a mug of ale

as she watched him playing a game of chance.
 
Her attire was as brazen

as her profession, which apparently would continue under the supervision

of her new owner.
 
Thus far the woman had failed to notice them, and

Shemaine sincerely hoped they would be able to find a secluded nook

before she did.
 
Hardly anyone in the tavern gave them heed, for the