Petals on the River (40 page)

heed to what a convict has to say."

Roxanne whirled away, and with the breezes billowing beneath her

wrapper, it seemed as if she floated toward the man to whom she had once

offered her heart and who, after the months of devoted service she had

given him, had cruelly rejected her gift of love.
 
In a hushed, hurt

tone she confided, "I thought you had come to make amends, Gage, perhaps

even to tell me that you'd be getting rid of your bondswoman. But I see

you intend to be obstinate.
 
True to your inclinations as always, aren't

you?" She shook her head regretfully.
 
"A pity.
 
.
 
. for your sake as

well as your son's."

Sensing a threat in her words, Gage fixed her with a harsh scowl, but he

remained mute, preferring not to get into another hassle with her or

anyone else while Shemaine was near enough to hear.
 
It seemed the whole

day long he had been involved in one confrontation after another, and

all he wanted at the moment was to go home and enjoy a nice, peaceful

evening alone with his son and his bondslave.

Limping to the forge, Hugh rested on his crutch as he barked at Gage.

"Stoke the embers and make yerself useffil if ye want me ta shoe yer

horse.
 
I can't do it alone."

"I'm able to do it myself if you'd prefer," Gage offered.
 
"All I need

from you is the loan of your equipment."

"Ye'll pay the same no matter who does it," the elder informed him

brusquely.
 
"So don't think ye'll be using me as your dupe."

"I hadn't intended to," Gage rejoined tersely.
 
With a slowly steeping

resentment brewing inside of him, he began pumping the billows to push

air into the forge.

The smithy pivoted about to settle a speculative stare upon Shemaine,

pricking her mettle with his disparaging perusal.
 
Turning stoically,

she carried Andrew to a large tree stump some distance from the

blacksmith shop and sat down upon it, hoping that she had gone far

enough to be safely off the Corbin property, for she had already

concluded that she liked the blacksmith no better than his daughter.

Cuddling the boy to her, Shemaine began to sing to him as she rocked

back and forth.
 
Gradually Andrew relaxed in her arms until his eyelids

sagged.
 
A sigh slipped from his parted lips, and he fell asleep,

snuggled close against her soft breast.

Hugh fought an inner conflict with himself as he watched Shemaine gently

nurturing the boy, but he was powerless to subdue the raging turmoil

that roiled within his heart and mind.
 
Tormenting impressions spewed

upward from the murky depths of long-buried memories, vexing him sorely,

and he turned on Gage, bedeviled by a darkly brooding envy. "Ye've

bought yerself a fine-lookin' convict there," he jeered in scorching

reproof.
 
"No doubt, with ye ownin' her, ye'll be gettin' yer manly

cravings appeased at the snap o' yer finger, so's I'm thinkin' ye'll be

havin' second thoughts bout weddin' me girl."

Gage had been leaning over the forge, examining the horseshoe he had

been heating, but at the man's words, he lifted his eyes to Roxanne. The

woman grew unsettled beneath his sharply pointed stare and, turning

away, busied herself suddenly by hanging the lantern on a nearby post.

Gage's angry scowl reverted back to the smithy.
 
"I'm afraid you're

mistaken, Mr.
 
Corbin, if you think I have ever asked your daughter to

marry me.
 
Since that is definitely not the case, I really don't see

that I owe you any explanation about my reasons for buying Shemaine.
 
In

short, Mr.
 
Corbin, it's none of your damn business."

"Ye arrogant libertine!
 
I'll teach ye ta show proper respect for yer

elders!" In a spitting rage, Hugh seized the small end of the crutch in

his hand and, holding it like a club, hopped forward on one foot,

intending to give the younger man a proper thrashing.

Slowly straightening to his full height, Gage raised a condescending

brow as he regarded the elder.
 
"If you mean to hit me with that, Mr

Corbin, be assured that I won't stand here and take it meekly.
 
I'li

finish anything you start, believe me."

The cold gaze piercing the lantern-lit gloom cooled Hugh's temper

effectively.
 
The memory of the pain he had suffered when the horse he

had been shoeing sat on him and broke his leg was too fresh in his mind

for him to willingly invite further injury.
 
Finding no graceful way of

retreating from a confrontation, he flung up a hand in a vivid display

of temper and snarled, "Finish what ye're doin' and then get out of

here.
 
Me girl and me don't want ye and that filthy li'l slut around

here, do ye hear!"

It took a fierce effort of will for Gage to curb the goading temptation

to drive his fist into the man's face.
 
All the reasons for refraining

from such an assault were there before him, so obvious a simple dolt

could recognize them.
 
Hugh Corbin was twice as old as he was and, at

the moment, lame.
 
If he punched the elder, he'd be no better than Jacob

Potts battering Cain.
 
No matter how much he longed to at that precise

moment, he just couldn't hit a crippled old man!

"Shemaine is not a slut, and I take great exception to you calling her

that," Gage ground out.
 
"My only regret right now is that I must finish

shoeing the mare.
 
Otherwise, I'd tell you to go to hell." He snorted in

contempt as he thought about it.
 
"But why should I waste my breath?
 
As

mean as you are, you're bound to go there anyway."

The air fairly crackled with tension as the two men glared at each

other.
 
Hugh wanted to launch an assault right then and there, but he

just couldn't dismiss the dreadful prospect that he might come to

further harm.
 
For once, better judgment took precedence, though he

still chafed beneath the harsh bit of fermenting animosities.

Hobbling around, Hugh returned to the porch with a halting gait and

clumsily took a seat on the edge.
 
From that vantage spot, he could keep

watch until the shoeing was complete.
 
Though he had never had a reason

to believe that Gage Thornton would ever cheat him, Hugh trusted no man

with his possessions.
 
Once he received the coins due him, he would send

the cabinetmaker on his way.

Leisurely Roxanne meandered back to a spot where she could see Gage more

clearly.
 
Leaning against a post, she scanned his downturned face above

the glowing coals and was amazed that even now she yearned to look into

that fine, handsome countenance and declare her love.
 
It would take

nothing more than a gentle smile from him to encourage her. But even as

she admired his noble visage, Roxanne saw his brows gather in a harsh

frown, as if he were annoyed by her close attention.
 
The idea set spurs

to her temper.
 
"What are you going to do, Gage?
 
Fight every man who

insults your convict?"

"If I have to!" he retorted sharply without glancing up.

"You're a stubborn man, Gage Thornton, and right now, I think you're a

fool.
 
Shemaine doesn't deserve your protection."

Though her words incensed him, Gage refused to yield his gaze to her.

"Your opinions really don't concern me, Roxanne.
 
They never have."

 
His words assaulted her as brutally as any slap across the face, and

Roxanne felt her temper soar at his blatant indifference.
 
How many

times throughout the nine years she had known him had she guilefully

offered herself to him?
 
And how many times had he failed to notice? Or

had that been a deliberate ruse on his part?
 
It had driven her nearly

mad wanting him the way she had and then being politely dismissed each

and every time, as if he were unable to think of her as his mistress . .

.
 
or his wife.
 
She could not imagine him being so insensitive to his

bondslave.

Oh, no!
 
He had other plans for the convict!

"You intend to take that trollop into your bed, don't you?" Roxanne

demanded, her voice fraught with emotion.
 
"That's been your desire from

the first moment you saw her, to fornicate with that slut!'' "What if it

has been?" Gage barked angrily, seeing no difference between father and

daughter.
 
Despite his qualms about pushing the woman closer to the

crumbling precipice of an irrational jealousy, he deliberately whipped

her ire into a slavering frenzy as he braced his palms on the brick

buttressing the forge and leaned forward to fix her with a probing

glare.
 
"Tell me, Roxanne, is it really any of your business what I

choose to do with Shemaine in the privacy of my cabin .

.
 
.
 
or, for that matter, my bed?"

The corners of Roxanne's mouth twisted downward in an ugly grimace, and

in the depths of her throat, a low gurgling growl was born.
 
With all

the fury of a woman scorned, it burst forth in a horrendous shriek.
 
The

hem of her robe swirled around her bare legs as she whirled and, like a

wraith in the night, fled back to the cabin. Racing past her father, she

stormed through the front portal.
 
The resounding crash of the door

slamming against the jamb made Hugh Corbin duck his head and grimace as

if he fully expected the porch rafters to fall down upon him.

On the long ride home, Shemaine sat quietly on the wagon seat beside

Gage, holding his sleeping son in her arms.
 
The moon had risen above

the trees and cast its silvery glow upon the land, enabling Shemaine to

see the ominous scowl that drew the man's magnificent brows sharply

together.
 
She dared not ask what was troubling him.
 
It went against

all propriety for a bondslave to inquire into the personal thoughts,

inner turmoil and feelings of her master, but she could not help but

wonder what the Corbins had said that had caused his mood to turn so