Petals on the River (44 page)

need me for that chore."

Wiping a hand across his eyes, Gage released a dismal sigh as the man

left.
 
By dint of will, he dragged his thoughts away from that nagging,

frightfully deceptive scene of Shemaine falling to her death. He could

only wonder about himself, if he would ever find release from the tumult

that continued to rage within him, at times leaving him feeling sorely

bruised and battered.

That evening the occupants of the cabin enjoyed a hearty soup for

supper, and while the dishes were being washed, Gage read to Andrew and

then put him to bed.
 
When he returned to the kitchen, Gage found

Shemaine awaiting him.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you today on the ship, Mr.
 
Thornton," she

murmured softly.
 
"I didn't realize how your wife had been killed."

A brief quirk at the edge of his mouth was all the smile Gage could

manage.
 
"It just frightened me to see you so close to the edge and to

think that Victoria may have gone up there in much the same way."

"I have nothing pressing to do at the moment, Mr.
 
Thornton," she said

quietly.
 
"Perhaps you'd feel better if you were able to talk about it."

Her gentle suggestion seemed full of compassion, and he could not bring

himself to offend her by refusing.
 
"I wasn't there when .
 
.
 
. my wife

.

.
 
.
 
fell," he replied haltingly.
 
"I had brought Andrew back here to

the cabin to clean some tar off his fingers after he had gotten into the

oakum on the ship.
 
While I was here, I heard Victoria scream.
 
She

sounded frightened.
 
Barely an instant later I heard other screams.
 
I

left Andy in his bed and ran to see what had happened.
 
When I got back

to the ship, I found Roxanne sobbing in hysterics over the dead body of

my wife.
 
She said she had just nudged her canoe into the shallows when

she heard Victoria scream.
 
When she reached the ship, she saw my wife

lying on the rocks below the prow.
 
The fall had broken Victoria's neck,

and there was absolutely nothing I could do to revive her.

I built a pine box to put her body in and took her into town to be

buried in the church cemetery beside her parents."

He refrained from mentioning what he had been subjected to once he

reached Newportes Newes.
 
It certainly hadn't helped that in prior years

he had set himself against certain inhabitants of the hamlet by daring

to point out the foolishness of several laws they had pompously proposed

for their area.
 
Thereafter, they had looked upon him as an antagonist,

and their vindictiveness had become apparent soon after Victoria's

death.
 
British authorities had concluded that their interrogation of

him was nothing more than a mean-spirited inquisition and had further

suggested that his wife could have climbed to the prow herself and

merely slipped.
 
While most of the townspeople had agreed, defaming

gossip had continued to boil over the dark, odious caldron of hearsay

and defamation.

"After the accident, I felt as if I had descended into a dark dungeon

from which I would never emerge," Gage continued.
 
"But grief has a way

of easing with the passage of time.
 
Caring for Andrew helped me over

the hurdle."

"You have a delightful son, Mr.
 
Thornton," Shemaine assured him gently.

"Andrew would win anyone's heart."

"He's been a blessing to me in many ways." Gage sighed.
 
An awkward

moment of silence passed between them, then he inclined his head toward

the back corridor.
 
"If you'd like to take a bath now, Shemaine, you

may.

I don't intend to work at my desk tonight, so you'll have time to enjoy

yourself at your leisure."

"Thank you, Mr.
 
Thornton," she replied, smiling.
 
"Going without a bath

on the London Pride was rather torturous for me, to say the least.
 
I

appreciate being clean more than I ever gave heed to before. I'd like

nothing better than to indulge myself in a lengthy soak."

"Then, by all means, do so," Gage encouraged.
 
"I'll read for a while

here in the kitchen, so I'll probably still be up when you finish."

Shemaine scurried about to prepare her bath, pouring three buckets of

hot water into the tub and bringing two more in from the well. After

Andrew's nap that afternoon she had read to him for a time on the back

porch and then later, while she watched him play, had folded freshly

laundered clothes.
 
She had stacked everything in a basket, placing the

towels on top, but in her haste to start supper and bathe Andrew before

the meal, she had left the basket beside her chair on the back porch.

While toting in the last pail of water, she carried in the wicker

receptacle, leaving it atop Gage's stool before dumping the water into

the tub.

A moment later Shemaine settled into the steamy water with a deep l sigh

of appreciation.
 
It was not the fanciest of tubs or the gentlest of

soaps, but she reveled in the bath as if attended by serving maids of

the royal court.
 
Indeed, she stayed in the tub so long her fingers and

toes began to wrinkle and the water took on a decided chill.
 
Only then

did she consider leaving it.

Shemaine pushed herself to her feet and reached for a towel. Grabbing a

corner, she swept it from the basket, noticing a strange weightiness to

the linen.
 
In the next instant, cold icy horror congealed within her,

wrenching a startled gasp from her as a large snake plummeted to the

floor.
 
It promptly started hissing and twisting as it righted itself

onto its stomach.
 
The reptile's eyes fixed menacingly on her, and its

tongue flicked excitably from its fanged mouth as it hissed a warning.

Its knobby tail rose in agitation and began to shake, emitting an odd,

rattling sound.

The snake's head shot forward, and with a frightened scream Shemaine

rapidly retreated out the back side of the tub.
 
She heard what sounded

like a chair overturning in the kitchen and footsteps running to the

portal.
 
Gage shouted her name in an anxious tone, but she had no time

to answer as the serpent lunged toward her again, wrenching another cry

from her.
 
Clutching the towel to her, Shemaine stumbled back against

the desk just as the kitchen door was flung open.

The adder, tenacious in its zeal to catch her, had slithered around the

tub and was near the door when this new menace appeared. The reptile

turned abruptly, striking out as the man stepped through the portal, but

Gage leapt back, out of harm' s way, and raced to the storeroom.
 
When

he returned, he held a long, wicked-looking knife in his hand.
 
The

viper eyed him warily, seeking a chance to sink its fangs into him. Gage

eluded another attack, and when the snake recoiled, he was ready.

Stepping quickly forward, he brought the wide blade down, chopping

through the snake's skull and pinning the partially severed head to the

floor.

Shuddering, Shemaine clutched the now dampened towel to her as she

observed the bizarre coiling of the reptilian body in the throes of

death.
 
Gage opened the back door, and then, scooping the flat side of

the knife beneath the serpent's mangled head, clasped his other hand

around the scaly body near the tail.
 
Lifting the reptile from the

floor, he carried it out beyond the back porch.

Shemaine sagged in weak relief against the desk, still a-tremble and

unnerved.
 
It was a long moment before the thought occurred to her that

there might be another snake in the basket.
 
She had no knowledge of

whether reptiles grouped together.
 
But surely another one would have

made its presence known by now.

Shemaine's breath eased outward in a long sigh of relief as she

recognized her disquiet.
 
She was simply letting her imagination run

wild.
 
She was safe now, she reassured herself.
 
Her master had killed

the snake, and if any more were in the basket, then he would kill them,

too.

Water splashed on the porch, making Shemaine realize that she had wasted

a chance to escape with her modesty reasonably intact. Clutching the

towel to her, she started to race toward the stairs, but when she heard

footsteps approaching the open door, she froze in sudden dilemma.

She could not leave her cubbyhole without exposing her nakedness to

Gage.
 
But if she stayed, the brevity and dampness of the towel would

afford her little protection, for the linen only partially masked the

front of her.
 
Nervously Shemaine chewed a lip as she eyed the basket,

on the far side of the tub.
 
A second towel would provide her better

covering, but could she grab one in time?

Gage stepped through the portal, ending her debate, and in desperation

Shemaine wedged herself between the wall and the desk, clasping an arm

over her breasts and laying the other aslant her abdomen.
 
It was the

best she could do.
 
Even so, her fluttering heart would not be calmed.

A wealth of emotions swept over Gage as he noticed his bondslave seeking

haven behind his desk.
 
He was totally amazed that she hadn't yet taken

flight.
 
With a shoulder, he nudged the door closed behind him and

advanced with measured tread into the corridor, diligently lending his

attention to drying water spots off the knife with an oiled rag that he

kept for such purposes in a box near the portal.
 
Pausing beside his

bondslave, he stroked the cloth along the now gleaming blade, conveying

a casualness that he strove hard to maintain.

"You were lucky, Shemaine," he announced.
 
The faltering limits of his

will were sorely strained as he sought to keep himself distracted. He

knew well enough what the sight of her scantily clad form would do to