Petals on the River (48 page)

humiliation of having her master know that she had looked upon his male

nudity and not fled like a flustered maid, Shemaine retreated very

slowly, very quietly, stepping backward toward Andrew's small room. Even

so, her racing thoughts could find no way of escape, not when she knew

she would eventually have to pass near the man.

Suddenly Shemaine halted, aware of a change taking place in the manly

loins.
 
The male flesh was now becoming much more pronounced and

obtrusive.

Her gaze flew upward, piercing the shafts of moonlight and shadowed

spaces, until she met the silvery-lit orbs smiling at her from the far

side of the bed.
 
The towel lay about Gage's sturdy neck, and his arms

hung relaxed at his sides.
 
The black hair, wetly spiked and wildly

tossed, gleamed in the gloom.

"I'm sorry," she strangled out, painfully aware that she had been

apologizing much too often since her indentureship.
 
"Andrew was crying,

and I didn't know where you had gone!"

In the silence that followed, Shemaine pivoted crisply about on bare

feet and lowered the boy into his bed.
 
Feeling the heat of shame

consume her, she closed her eyes, trembling in every part of her body as

she struggled to gather her scattered wits.
 
Despite her best efforts, a

vision of what she had just seen was now forever lodged in her memory.

It blazed before her mind's eye as clearly as if she still stared at the

man.

Whirling, Shemaine kept her gaze carefully averted from that male

nakedness as she fled to the open door and made her escape into the

parlor.
 
In her haste she stumbled on the stairs and gritted her teeth

against the sudden pain throbbing in her bruised shin, but she did not

pause.
 
Flinging herself into her cot, she turned her face to the wall

and yanked the covers up over her head, wishing fervently the world

would dissolve around her.

CHAPTER 10

Shemaine faced the morning with a definite dread, reluctant to meet her

master and suffer through the painful trauma of being within close

proximity to him when both of them would find it difficult to think of

anything except the night before, when he had caught her ogling his

manly parts like some lewd strumpet.
 
It had been embarrassing enough

when she had found her hand caught against his loins, but what had

happened during the night was even more humiliating.
 
She yearned to lie

abed until Gage went to his shop to work, but her duties as an

indentured servant denied her the privilege of hiding out in her room

like a spineless coward.
 
She must make the best of their inevitable

meeting, no matter how fervently she longed to vanish into thin air

before that particular event came about.

When she made a cautious descent, Shemaine was relieved to find that

Gage had already gone outside to attend his morning chores.
 
It was not

until she had breakfast laid out on the table and had found time to

dress herself that he returned to the cabin with his usual offering of

rations, a basket of eggs and a pail of milk.
 
He glanced in

appreciation at the food-laden table before setting the basket and pail

on the counter beside her.

"It smells delicious, Shemaine." Since she had been there, Gage had come

to anticipate the morning meal perhaps more than any other, for she

seemed to excel in cooking tasty dishes that he had memories of eating

in his father's home in England.
 
"Can we eat now?
 
I'm starving."

Timid about meeting his gaze, Shemaine focused her attention on pouring

the contents of a small pan into a gravy boat.
 
" Tis ready to be eaten

as soon as I finish dishing up this sauce.
 
Should I awaken Andrew?"

"Let him sleep.
 
Poor little fellow, he had a hard night."

However innocent his remark had been, it seemed to Shemaine a painfully

blunt reminder of her horrendous blunder.
 
The spoon that she had been

about to put into the sauce shot through her fingers as if it had stiff

springs attached to it.
 
As she watched in horrified dismay, it

skittered across the edge of the counter before plummeting to the floor.

She bent quickly to retrieve it, but nearly collided with Gage, whose

reflexes were faster.
 
He scooped up the ladle and, offering it back to

her, clapped his heels together.
 
She shot a nervous glance toward him

as she took it, provoking his curiosity.
 
He could not help but notice

her scarlet cheeks and the incertitude visible in her eyes. Stepping

close, he canted his head in an effort to draw her gaze upward, but she

feigned a sudden need to find another spoon and refused to look at him.

Gage was determined.
 
He took her small chin between his thumb and

forefinger and turned her face toward the light until he could search

the beautiful visage.
 
"What ails you, Shemaine?" he asked gently. "Do

you think I care a whit that you saw me naked last night?
 
Or that you

may have spent a fleeting moment looking at me and perhaps appeasing

your maidenly curiosity about men?
 
Good heavens, girl, I understand

that you went in there not to seduce me, but to comfort my son, and I'm

grateful for that.
 
What I must do is apologize for startling you, but a

man cannot always control how his body responds to a beautiful woman.

I've not been with another since Victoria died.
 
There was certainly no

woman in the hamlet I wanted to bed down with, and seeing you in my room

aroused longings I've struggled hard to suppress since becoming a

widower.
 
I'm a man, Shemaine, subject to all the feelings and flaws of

my gender.
 
As a man, I greatly admire your beauty and enjoy your

presence in my home.
 
Watching you pleases me.
 
You're soft, alluring,

gentle, and kind.
 
You grace this cabin and our lives like a delicate

flower that bestirs the senses with its fragrance and beauty. In the

short time I've known you, I've come to realize I do desire you as a

woman.
 
Yet I would never force you, Shemaine .
 
.
 
.
 
or knowingly hurt

you.
 
I want the best for you, so don't feel chagrined about what

happened last night.
 
As you may have surmised, I enjoyed you looking at

me.
 
It was most stimulating to find you in my room.
 
Condemn me for

that if you will, or simply accept me as a man who's very interested in

you as a woman."

A soft, quavering sigh wafted from Shemaine's lips.
 
"I didn't want to

face you today," she admitted diffidently.
 
"I thought I couldn't bear

it."' ''You needn't ever feel ashamed in my presence, Shemaine.
 
I'll

never chide you for having honest feelings or being human."

Still unsure of herself and even less certain of her situation, Shemaine

inclined her head toward the table, murmuring quietly, "Your breakfast

is getting cold, Mr.
 
Thornton."

"After you, Miss O'Hearn," Gage replied, stepping back into a gallant

bow and sweeping an arm before him invitingly.

"Daddee, where're you?" Andrew called from the bedroom before he came

tottering drowsily into the parlor.

"There you are, Sleepyhead," Gage cried with a chuckle.
 
Squatting down,

he held his arms out wide for the boy.

Laughing, the youngster ran into his father's embrace and was swung high

into the air.
 
Then upon gathering the boy close, Gage playfully nipped

at his taut little stomach through the nightshirt, exaggerating a

monstrous growl that evoked gleeful shrieks and giggles.

When Andrew was finally lowered into his high chair, he surveyed the

food laid out before him and gave Shemaine a toothy grin.
 
"Yummy !

Yummy !
 
" Gage grinned at his bondslave.
 
"I think that means Let's

eat." Shall we oblige him?"

Shemaine found herself once more enchanted by the pair and, despite her

continuing reservations, showed her obeisance with a curtsy.
 
"I'm here

to obey, m'lord."

"Any claims to that title I left behind me in England," Gage remarked

off handedly.

Shemaine's brows gathered in confusion as she slowly straightened.

Wondering what he had meant, she queried, "Is there a Lord Thornton?"

"My father, William, Earl of Thornhedge." Gage lifted his shoulders in a

casual dismissal of the title's significance.
 
"Not as impressive as a

marquessate, but here in the colonies a title holds little importance to

most of the populace, except for the British dignitaries."

He swept a hand to indicate the bench behind her, silently bidding

Shemaine to take a seat.
 
As she did so, he slipped into the bench

opposite her.
 
Once before he had told her the story about O1' One Ear

to put her at ease.
 
This morning he recounted the tale of Sly Tucker

trying to escape a bee while unloading supplies from the back of a

wagon.

"Sly took a flying leap off the rear of it, but his toe got caught in a

hole at the very end.
 
He fell forward like a dead weight and sprawled

flat on the ground, nearly breaking his nose.
 
It was so badly bruised

and skinned, everyone who saw him started laughing.
 
Sly is usually

rather gentle in nature, but the guffaws the incident provoked were loud

enough to set him on edge.
 
He mumbled many times afterwards that he

would have been better off letting the bee sting him than contending

with all the hilarity provoked by the sight of his swollen and bruised

nose."

Shemaine found herself suddenly giggling at the story.
 
Then she glanced

up and found her master regarding her with warmly glowing eyes, as if

satisfied that he had been able to draw her out of her timidity.

Shemaine dipped her head in acknowledgment of his accomplishment. "Thank

you, Mr.
 
Thornton."