Petals on the River (59 page)

caressing his face as he leaned near.
 
It seemed only natural to touch

the softness of her mouth with his own and awaken her with a kiss.

Shemaine was dreaming of a chivalrous knight, and answering his kiss

seemed in full accord with her own desires, for the mouth moving over

her own was warm and stirring, evoking an excitement that was uncommonly

real even for one of her dreams.
 
The face above her own seemed dark and

featureless, yet she added details that had become familiar to her

dreams, a thin nose and a crisply chiseled countenance that was

marvelous to behold.

The visage receded, and with a disappointed sigh Shemaine struggled

upward through hazy shadows.
 
Her mind seemed strangely detached, and

inexplicably there remained in her mouth a heady taste, somewhat similar

to that which she had smelled on her master's breath shortly after he

had quaffed a glass of ale with his employees.
 
She licked her lips,

savoring the flavor, and yearned for the knight's kisses to return.
 
The

last had been the best of all!

Reality would no longer be denied.
 
As it came winging slowly back,

Shemaine stared through the shadows into the face of the one who

regarded her, feeling a lingering confusion.
 
Was he the man in her

fantasy?
 
Or was she still dreaming?
 
Then she saw a smile trace across

the handsome lips, and a soft murmur assured her that she was awake.

"I thought I'd have to carry you upstairs."

"Are we home?" she queried, glancing slowly around.

"Aye, safe and sound."

Shemaine realized his arm lay around her, but she made no effort to pull

away.
 
It offered her warmth and comfort, but most of all, she enjoyed

having it there.
 
"How long have I been asleep?"

The upward movement of Gage's shoulder caught a shaft of moonlight that

was otherwise limited to the area beyond the chaise's leather top.

"Shortly after we left Newportes Newes.
 
You seemed destined to sleep

the night through."

"I was dreaming," she sighed.

Gage dropped an arm across his knee as he leaned forward to search out

her features in the shadows.
 
"What were you dreaming about, my sweet?"

Shemaine turned her face aside, unwilling to answer him.
 
If she had

dreamed it all, then she certainly didn't want him to know about her

flights of fancy.
 
If she hadn't, then it was perhaps best that she

remain ignorant of all that had transpired between them.
 
"We'd better

go into the house now." She rubbed her arms, feeling a sudden chill as a

breeze penetrated her sleeve.
 
"I'm cold."

Gage stepped lightly to the ground and doffed his coat as he came around

to her side.
 
As she turned on the seat to face him, he plucked the

heron from her lap and, with a smile, handed it to her.
 
After lifting

her down, he draped the oversized garment over her shoulders and took

her free hand to escort her into the cabin.
 
Pausing in the back

corridor to light a pair of tapers, he placed a candlestand on the

stairs as she stood drowsily admiring the wooden sculpture.

"I'll have to tend the gelding," he murmured, stepping near to indulge

himself in her sweet scent.

"Does he have a name?" Shemaine asked, smothering a yawn as she glanced

up.

Gage grinned down at her as he slipped his coat from her shoulders and

laid it across the tall stool near his desk.
 
"Sooner."

"Sooner?" she repeated, a little bemused.
 
'That's an odd name for a

horse."

"Aye, but he gets to where we're going sooner than the mare."

She smiled sleepily at his wit.
 
"And the mare?"' "Later."

"Sooner?
 
And Later?"

He nodded briefly.

"Thank goodness you didn't name your offspring using such logic."

Humor tugged at the corners of his mouth.
 
"Victoria wouldn't let me."

"Well, I wouldn't either if I were your wife," Shemaine replied,

muffling another yawn.

Gage's eyes danced, commanding her full attention.
 
"We'll discuss it

more at length after you've given birth to our first."

The last dregs of sleep vanished abruptly as Shemaine' s head snapped

up.
 
She stared at him in astonishment, having no idea whether he was

teasing her again or else predicting a drastic change in their

relationship.
 
She decided not to waste time with questions.
 
Indeed, it

seemed prudent to beat a hasty retreat.

Gage observed her flight to the stairs.
 
"Coward!"

Shemaine halted instantly with a foot on the bottom step. Glancing back

at him, she elevated an eyebrow.
 
"Sir?
 
Are you calling me a coward?"

"Aye." Gage folded his arms across his chest and challenged her with a

direct stare.

Shemaine faced him, a bit stymied by his slur.
 
"Sir, I would like to

know why you choose to call me a coward.
 
To my knowledge, I've done

nothing deserving of that insult."

His wide shoulders lifted briefly.
 
"You obviously assume the worst,

Shemaine, and rather than ask questions, you race upstairs as if your

petticoats were on fire."

A rush of color brightened her cheeks.
 
"It didn't seem advisable to

delve into your meaning, sir.
 
After all, we are quite alone, and I am

your bondslave."

"And I'm a widower," he needled.
 
"In dire straits."

Shemaine's blush deepened as she recalled his comments about the ladies

of the village and their expectations of a widower.
 
Lowering her gaze

to the wooden heron she held, she gently prodded, "You've already

admitted that you desire me, sir.
 
Should I think otherwise now hat

we're alone?"

"I also said I wouldn't force you, Shemaine," he reminded her oftly.

She lifted her head and probed his smiling stare, not knowing what o

answer.

"But there is one thing I would desire," Gage rasped in a whisper.

Shemaine held her breath, wondering what would follow.

"The evening was so delightful, I'd like to end it with a kiss...."

"A kiss?" Shemaine marveled at the sudden thrill that swept hrough her

and the chaotic beating of her heart.
 
She could only wonler if kissing

him in actyality was as delectable as it had seemed in er imagination.

Gage paced forward carefully, as if stalking a wary dove.
 
"Is it too

much to ask?"

Fearful that her voice would betray the fermenting excitement within

her, Shemaine shook her head.

"You're not frightened, are you?"

"No," she managed, trying to calm her jitters as he stepped near.

Lifting her face, she waited in anticipation.

Gage smiled.
 
She seemed so willing, he thought he should warn her about

his intentions.
 
"This will be no simple peck, my sweet, but a kiss

between a man and a woman."

Strokes of lightning sizzled along her nerves, dazzling Shemaine with

the intensity of her excitement.
 
Despite the thundering beat of her

pulse, she managed a brief nod.
 
"I understand, Mr.
 
Thornton."

Suddenly his arms were around her, snatching her close against him.
 
Her

breath escaped her, and for one startled moment Shemaine stared up at

him, totally conscious of his unyielding, muscular body. In the next

instant, his mouth came down like a plummeting fireball, scalding th sc

to z Li her lips and forcing them apart in frenzied passion.
 
The

suddenness of his ardor overwhelmed her and yet, at the same time,

thoroughly excited her.
 
Turning slowly, he pressed her back over his

arm as he continued to kiss her with a consuming fervor that left her

breathless and a bit faint.
 
His mouth was insistent, relentless,

slanting across hers as a fiery torch plundered the warm, honeyed depths

with ravenous greed.
 
Her breasts throbbed against his chest, their

nipples drawing tight with a yearning excitement, and Shemaine knew if

he had touched them at that moment, she would have cried out from the

sheer pleasure of it.
 
His purposeful persuasion sapped the strength

from her limbs and evoked sharp cravings that spread upward like molten

lava from her loins.
 
Of a sudden, she found herself answering his kiss,

turning her face to drink in the sultry delights more fully as her arms

slipped upward and locked in a fierce embrace around his neck.
 
She felt

her small tongue being drawn inward by some force beyond her own and

soon it was caressing his and being caressed.
 
The temptation to yield

herself to whatever he desired of her was great.
 
His encompassing arms

supported her, and now with her eager response, he would no doubt

proceed with his manly bent, claiming all that she had to give.
 
And

then, what would she be afterward?
 
A plaything for his entertainment

and perhaps, in time, a castoff?
 
Like a garment when it has served out

its usefulness and been relegated to the rag bin?

Shemaine found the idea of rejection totally offensive to her nature.

Gage had said he would not force her.
 
So it was up to her to put an end

to this madness!

She wedged an arm down between them and pushed against his chest as she

turned her face aside.
 
Twisting from his grasp, she stumbled away and

then turned to stare at him in wide-eyed amazement with a trembling hand

clutched over lips that still throbbed.
 
She recognized a burning hunger

in his eyes that was perhaps no different from her own.
 
Even now she