Petals on the River (47 page)

"I'll throw ye both out!" Hannah warned as they began to wrestle and

wallop each other.

Gage chuckled as the woman looked at him in helpless appeal and, with

waggish humor, proposed, "You could lassoo both of them now and save

yourself the trouble later."

"Ye aren't suggestin' nothin' I aren't already thought o' meself," their

mother declared, heaving an exasperated sigh.
 
"The way they tear round

with each other, twill be a wonder for sure if those boys survive til

they're full grown."

"Imagine their future as valiant soldiers or something of that sort,"

Gage suggested with a grin.
 
"They're getting all the experience they'll

ever need right now."

"Ye can say that, sure enough!
 
But there be times I'd like a li'l truce

betwixt the battles so's I can learn a li'l strategy o' me own . .
 
.

like how ta knock their noggins together without gettin' me fingers

smashed."

The woman's humor was too much for Shemaine to bear soberly. Having

overheard their conversation as she readied Andrew's bath, she tried to

squelch her giggles as she lifted a caldron of steaming water from the

fireplace hook.
 
Her mirth proved unruly, for it kept escaping in brief

snatches as she rushed the kettle to the back corridor and soon became

uncontrollably and highly infectious, making the rounds first to Andrew

and then to Gage and Hannah, who had stepped near the front door.
 
Many

months had passed since the cabin had overflowed with such joyful

sounds.
 
For Gage, it was like a magic elixir warming his whole being.

Finally the chortles subsided, and Hannah, preparing to take her leave,

waved a hand toward the front porch as she asked a favor.
 
"If'n ye

don't mind, Gage, I left a pair o' chairs for ye ta mend when ye've got

some time ta spare.
 
It needn't be right away, ye understand, but it'd

be nice ta have em afore the year is out.
 
The chairs don't look it at

first peek, but the backs are nigh ta fallin' way from the. seats.

Tain't safe sittin' in em."

"I'll see what I can do, Hannah," Gage assured her.
 
"But are you sure

you won't be needing them before year's end?"

"We've got more'n enough chairs for our own family.
 
Twill only be

Christmas that we'll be needin' em for kinfolk.
 
Charlie's brothers an'

sisters'll be comin', an' there's so many, it'll be like an army

invadin' us."

Gage chuckled at the idea of having so much time to repair them. "I

might not get around to repairing them for a month or two, but I'll have

them ready well before Christmas.
 
If you need them sooner, just let me

know.
 
Until then, I'll keep them on the porch as a reminder."

Hannah cocked her head and paused to listen to the song that Shemaine

was singing to Andrew in the back corridor, where she was bathing him.

It was a bright and airy tune, definitely of Irish origin, and the voice

was as sweet and pleasing as any Hannah had ever heard.
 
The matron

looked up at Gage and smiled.
 
"If'n ye're not aware of it, Gage

Thornton, yer bondswoman could teach me a thing or two, and it wouldn't

be bout cookin' either.
 
She's got a good head on her shoulders, that

she does, not ta mention havin' a voice o' an angel.
 
I'm thinkin' I

ought ta come over an' sit in on some o' Andrew's readin' lessons once

they start.
 
I was the'er much good at that sort o' thing."

"Shemaine is everything I had hoped to find and more," Gage admitted.

"And ye said she couldn't cook," Hannah chided affably, shaking her

head.

Gage lifted his wide shoulders in a casual shrug.
 
"I don't think

Shemaine realizes yet just how talented she really is.
 
She's a wonder

when cooking food, but she mothers Andrew as if he were her very own.

The boy is quite taken with her."

"Aye, I saw their affection for each other this mornin' when Shemaine

was tryin' ta protect Andy from me boys.
 
She didn't know quite how ta

go bout it for fear o' woundin' me feelin's.
 
I let the roughhousin' go

on for a wee bit just ta see how she'd react, an' I can tell ye true, no

mother hen e'er watched over one o' her biddies with as much concern as

she showed for yer son."

"Shemaine seems naturally inclined to be a mother," Gage responded.
 
"I

think she has a special gift for bringing peace and assurance to the

child, making him feel wanted, nurtured .
 
.
 
.
 
and loved."

Hannah smiled in satisfaction as she discerned the change that had also

taken place in the man.
 
All the girl's attributes which he had claimed

Andrew had benefited from had obviously touched him as well. He seemed

far more relaxed and at peace with himself than she had seen him since

that horrible day of Victoria's death.
 
" Tis fortunate ye are ta have

found Shemaine.
 
Women like her are not usually ta he had for any size

purse."

A distant mewling invaded Shemaine's slumber, but she was reluctant to

be parted from her dreams.
 
Once again she had experienced the thrill

and exhilaration of racing across her father's countryside estate on the

back of her stallion, Donegal.
 
She had felt the wind whipping her hair,

snatching at the hem of her habit, and had rejoiced in the freedom to

ride in whatever direction caught her fancy.

Her revelry gradually dissipated as the whimpering continued and the

bars of Newgate Prison closed around her.
 
She was haunted once again by

the cries and hopeless sobs of the destitute, the shuMing feet and

restless pacing that were always accompanied by the clank of chains. The

dreadful black despair of utter gloom swept over her, almost smothering

the breath from her.

Shemaine came upright with a sharp gasp and, as her heart thumped

frantically against the wall of her chest, she peered intently into the

darkness around her, searching for the dour-faced inmates of Newgate and

waiting in apprehension for the scraping feet to approach.
 
By slow,

agonizing degrees Shemaine managed to separate reality from the deluding

dimensions of sleep and finally realized that what she was actually

hearing was Andrew whimpering in his bedroom downstairs.
 
She listened

for several moments longer, expecting to hear some movement of the elder

Thornton in response to the plaintive sobs, but the weeping grew louder

and, it seemed, a bit more frightened.
 
She could not imagine Gage

sleeping through his son's tears, and she began to chafe. What if

something had happened to his father?
 
Or if the elder had gone to the

privy and couldn't hear Andrew?

Feeling an urgency to comfort the boy, Shemaine tossed aside the covers

and shrugged into her dressing robe as she hurriedly descended. The door

of Gage's bedroom stood open, but the firelight from the kitchen hearth,

combined with the moonlight streaming through the windows above the bed,

provided enough illumination to assure her that her master was not in

the parlor or his bedroom.
 
Cautiously she . crept through the elder's

private quarters toward Andrew's small nook, half afraid that she had

been mistaken and she would bump into the man before reaching the boy.

But her fears proved groundless.
 
There was no one but Andrew there.

The sobs were coming more harshly now, wrenching Shemaine's heart, and

she quickly crossed to the child's trundle bed and gathered him up in

her arms.
 
Soothing him with a cradlesong, she paced about the room as

she snuggled him close against her, kissed his tear-streaked cheek and

smoothed his tousled hair.
 
Gradually the frightened crying ceased and

the child's breathing deepened, but when she sought to put him down

again, a fearful gasp escaped him.
 
Once again she held him close and

retraced her steps from his bed to the much larger one in the master's

bedroom, back and forth, over and over until she felt the tiny head

begin to droop over her shoulder.
 
She hushed her singing and, in slow

stages, halted her pacing, wanting to make absolutely sure that the boy

would stay asleep once she returned him to his bed.

Shemaine was admiring his handsome features in the meager light, swaying

from side to side, when she became mindful of a presence in the larger

room.
 
It was not so much the sound of the man's entrance that alerted

her as it was his shivering shudder as he stepped to the far side of the

bed.
 
She glanced up, intending to explain her reason for intruding into

his private domain, but words failed her when she saw him standing naked

in a shaft of moonlight.
 
Tiny droplets of water gleamed like diamonds

over his muscular torso and limbs, evidencing his recent dip in the

stream outside.
 
At present, he had a towel over his head and was

vigorously rubbing his hair.
 
Apparently he had not yet become aware of

her.

Shemaine, however, was acutely conscious of him.
 
She had never seen a

naked man before, and the sight of that long, powerful form was rather

shocking to her virginal senses.
 
Yet at the same time she was

completely enthralled with the beauty and bold, manly grace of it.
 
As

his clothes had revealed, his shoulders were incredibly wide and had no

need of the padding that pompous lords usually demanded in their coats.

His broad chest tapered sleekly to a tautly muscled waist and narrow

hips.
 
A thin line of hair traced downward from his lightly furred chest

across his-flat, hard belly, drawing her eyes irresistibly lower.

Her cheeks burning, her heart hammering wildly, Shemaine stood frozen,

unable to drag her gaze away.
 
For all of her mother's delicate,

somewhat embarrassed descriptions of the male form and her gentle

counseling about what to expect once she married Maurice, Shemaine

realized that she had not expected quite so much .
 
.
 
. maturity!

Having no wish to draw attention to herself and thereby suffer the