Petals on the River (69 page)

shirt He prowled the interior again, and several moments later found

himself searching through a little-used cabinet for a bottle of Madeira

that had been stored there.
 
Finding the flask tucked behind several

other brews, he drew it out, broke the wax seal, and poured a small

sampling into a cup.
 
He tasted it and deemed it worthy enough to share

with his young bride.

At last Shemaine called to him from his bedroom.
 
"You may come in now,

Gage."

"Aye, love .
 
.
 
.
 
be right there," he replied, and hastened to find a

pair of heavy crystal goblets which Victoria had once foreseen as the

first acquisitions of a collection she had hoped to complete. He

splashed the dark wine into the bottom of each and, pushing open the

bedroom door with a shoulder, carried them into the bedroom.
 
Pausing

just beyond the threshold, he smiled as his gaze settled on his bride.

Shemaine was sitting up in his bed with her back braced against a

lace-edged pillow that cushioned the headboard.
 
Gowned in a soft,

gossamer creation trimmed with tiny tucks and delicate lace, she was a

stirringly beautiful example of what every bridegroom held hopes of

viewing on his wedding night.

Gage recalled his burning desire to have his way with her, especially

after she had accepted his proposal.
 
Yet in spite of the anguish he had

suffered being around her and wanting her with every fiber in his being,

he had been reluctant to take her virginity while she was still his

bondslave.
 
He hadn't wanted her to feel as if she must yield to his

demands.
 
As his gaze caressed her now, he was gratified that he hadn't

pressed her unduly.
 
The wait had been worth all of his fleshly

cravings.

She was his bride, his lovely one, and tonight would be forever marked

in their memory as the one in which they came together as man and wife.

"Mary Margaret gave us these for a wedding present." Shemaine swept a

hand about to indicate the lace-trimmed sheets and pillowcases.

"She made the lace by hand."

Moving around to the side of the bed where Shemaine sat, Gage passed her

a goblet with a token kiss.
 
Then, as she sampled the contents of the

glass, he ran a hand admiringly over the dainty threadwork, remembering

Mary Margaret's haste to shoo him out of his own bedroom that morning

before they left for Williamsburg, and then, only a little while ago,

her smiling reticence and her quick flight to the bedroom while Ramsey

and the other men presented their own handsome, wood-crafted gifts.

I L "That lady is a blooming marvel in more ways than I'd ever dare to

count," Gage quipped with a grin.

Shemaine lightly brushed her fingers across the lace of her collar,

drawing his regard.
 
"Mary Margaret trimmed my nightgown, too."

Gage's eyes glowed above a smile as his gaze devoured her in a sweeping

glance.
 
Setting aside his goblet, he sat down beside her and lifted a

lighted taper aloft to closely inspect the minutely detailed edging.

" Tis beautiful," he breathed, but his eyes were drawn irresistibly

downward to the tantalizing fullness of her bosom.
 
In the candlelight

the translucent cloth was barely a milky haze over the delicate pink and

creamy perfection of her breasts.
 
Victoria's thinness had extended to

her bosom, and except for the months she had nursed Andrew, she had been

rather self-conscious about the smallness of her breasts, even though

she had never been less than womanly to him.
 
Now here he was admiring

ample curves that made him tremble with anticipation.

Shemaine felt suffocated by the heat of his perusal, but she waited in

silence as his eyes slowly swept her meagerly clad bosom and the heavy

single braid she had intertwined with ribbon.
 
The thick brush of black

lashes veiled his beautiful eyes from her, forbidding her visual access

into those translucent depths, and though she searched his noble visage,

she had no way of knowing what to expect. She could only wonder if this

stranger, to whom she was now married, would turn suddenly savage in his

quest to fulfill his desires.

Gathering her fingers and lifting them to his mouth, Gage met her

wide-eyed stare as he lightly nibbled the slender knuckles.
 
Then he

smiled with incredible warmth, and it was like all of paradise opening

before Shemaine.
 
Her breath slipped from her in a softly fluttering

sigh of awe.

"Aye, my sweet, the gown is beautiful," he breathed, "but not nearly as

lovely as the one who wears it."

Gage returned the candlestand to the table and, leaning near his young

wife, bent his head aslant to caress her mouth with his own.
 
The kiss

was warm and heady, no less intoxicating than the Madeira, a leisured

meeting of parting lips and questing tongues, the eagerness of one

yielding to the bold intrusion of the other.
 
A faint sigh wafted from

Shemaine's lips as his kisses blazed a trail along her throat, brushing

past the delicate lace collar and continuing downward until his mouth

claimed the soft peak of her breast.
 
She caught her breath at the

sudden jolt of pleasure that leapt through her.
 
The sultry wetness

penetrated the delicate fabric of her nightgown, torching the sensitive

pinnacle until a breathless moan escaped her lips.
 
Her head fell back

upon the pillow as her senses basked in pure bliss, and for a moment she

wondered if she would be able to bear it all without dissolving in

ecstasy.

"Oh, don't stop," she begged in a plaintive whisper as her husband drew

back.
 
Her whole body quaked with what he had started.
 
Lifting her

head, she searched his chiseled face, silently pleading for him to

continue.

The brown eyes delved into hers as he leaned over her.
 
" Tis only a

brief delay to allow me to disrobe, my love,'' he murmured huskily.

Clasping a hand over a breast, he stroked a thumb across the dampened

cloth molding the peak.
 
"I must pace myself carefully lest I cheat you

of your wifely pleasure."

"Oh, sir, I daresay you haven't been cheating me," Shemaine assured him

in a voice that quavered with emotion.
 
"Feel my heart, how it quakes

beneath your touch." She caressed the back of his hand lightly with her

fingertips as he pressed the fullness more firmly to feel the swiftly

thumping rhythm beneath.
 
"You see?
 
You make me anxious for more of

what you have to teach."

"Never have I had a more willing student," Gage breathed, turning his

palm toward hers and threading his fingers through hers.
 
Lifting her

hand to his lips, he pressed another kiss upon the back of it and then

rose to his feet, making no effort to turn aside as her gaze was drawn

irresistibly downward.
 
Almost as quickly the green orbs flew upward to

meet his smiling regard.
 
"Aye, madam, I'm anxious, too."

Gage moved around the end of the bed and approached a chair that stood

against the far wall.
 
Turning aside slightly to spare her the full

shock of his arousal, he stripped to his breeches.
 
Peeling that garment

downward, he clasped a knee and, with his other hand, dragged the narrow

legging free as his young bride eyed him furtively.
 
Muscles flexed

tautly in his buttocks and thighs as he balanced on one foot. Shifting

his weight to his right leg, he raised his left knee to pull the

breeches free, allowing other manly parts to come boldly into view.

Shemaine felt a scalding hotness rushing into her cheeks as she viewed

the fullness thrusting outward from under his thigh.
 
Unable to drag her

gaze away, she sat as one frozen by shock.
 
The moonlight by which she

had twice observed him had been rather deceptive, revealing his body as

something incredibly beautiful.
 
It was all of that, to be sure, but it

was immensely threatening as well.
 
At the moment nothing seemed quite

as intimidating as that bold blade of passion.

Gage turned back to the bed in all of his naked glory, and Shemaine

quickly averted her gaze, fixing it nervously upon the armoire until he

slipped into bed.
 
Tactfully keeping the lace-edged linen over his hips,

l l Gage slid close beside her and propped a pillow behind his back as

he leaned against the headboard.
 
He noticed the trembling of her hands

and, taking one, threaded his fingers through hers.
 
With a free hand he

turned her face to his until he could search those wide, hesitant green

eyes.

"Are you afraid, Shemaine?"

"A little," she confessed in a barely audible whisper.

"It seems but a fleeting discomfort, my sweet," Gage said gently. "A

sacrifice for a bride, to be sure, but a small one compared to the

pleasure that's to he had beyond the rending of her virginity.
 
And I

promise you, dearest wife, I will give you as much enjoyment as I'm

able."

When her bridegroom seemed so concerned with her fear, Shemaine could

not believe he would be anything but considerate of her.
 
Though the

smile she offered him still wavered unsteadily, it was from the heart.

"'Twas nothing more than a fleeting moment of panic, Mr. Thornton."

"Aye, Mrs.
 
Thornton," Gage replied, comforted by the tender gaze she

bestowed upon him.
 
"Now, madam, I would like to propose a toast to our

marriage." Reaching across her, he claimed his goblet and waited until

she had lifted her own glass.
 
Then he smiled into her searching eyes.

"May it be all that we both want it to be, and after a long life

together, may we look back in peaceful contentment, knowing we've been

amply blessed with a large family."' "Hear!
 
Hear!" Shemaine agreed, her

cheerfulness restored.
 
Looping her arm through his, she tentatively

took a sip.
 
The wine was a bit stronger than she was used to, and she

had to clear her throat before she could beg a blessing of her own. "And