Petals on the River (87 page)

an arm around the narrow waist that he himself had once possessively

embraced and laid a hand on the same smooth brow he had lovingly kissed.

The casual handling of his betrothed aroused his ire to no small degree,

and he almost stepped forward to protest, but the plight of his fiancee

finally dawned on him as she tried to subdue a gag behind a lace

handkerchief.

Spurred to action, Maurice raced back to the horse through, wet his

handkerchief and returned to offer it to her.
 
Meekly Shemaine nodded

her gratitude and wiped her face as she leaned against Gage.
 
Brushing a

strand of hair from her flushed face, he laid an arm around her waist as

she rested her head against the solid bulwark of his chest.

The intimacy of Gage's embrace invited a dark-eyed glower from her

former beau, but that was not all, by any means.

"What the bloody hell is going' on here?" another voice demanded from the

thoroughfare, snatching the very words from Maurice's mouth.

''Papa?" Shemaine lifted her head and glanced around in search of the

beloved face.
 
She could not have mistaken the voice, and when her eyes

lit on the short, wiry, nattily garbed man standing with arms akimbo and

legs splayed in the middle of the road, she could not mistake her own

sire.
 
"Papa!
 
Oh, Papa!"

Nearly dancing along the edge of the boardwalk, Shemaine eagerly

motioned him forward, and within four long strides Shemus O'Hearn was

there, sweeping his daughter within his embrace.
 
Gage's brows flicked

upward in a lopsided angle as he stepped back a respectful distance,

allowing the two to have this moment together.

"Just who the bloody hell are you, anyway?" Maurice du Mercer demanded

as he stepped before Gage, but he gave the colonial no time to answer as

he crisply explained, "When we started making inquiries at Newgate

shortly after her boots were found, we were told that Shemaine had

shipped out on the London Pride.
 
We had the good fortune of catching

sight of the Pride's sails while we were steering a course here, and we

had our captain bring our ship about to intercept the vessel.
 
When we

boarded her, Captain Fitch told us that Shemaine had been sold as an

indentured servant to a colonial named Gage Thornton here in Newportes

Newes.
 
Are you that man?"

"Aye, I'm that man."

Maurice's face tightened with vexation.
 
"The bosun on the Pride also

informed us that he had heard rumors about town that the colonial who

had bought Shemaine had killed his first wife."

"It was rumored," Gage acknowledged sharply.
 
"But it could never be

proven because I didn't kill her!"

Maurice tossed his head in jeering disdain.
 
"Why is it that I don't

believe you?"

"Perhaps because you don't wish to," Gage retorted.

"You're right.
 
I don't wish to.
 
What I really want to do is to lay you

out with my fist!"

Gage's eyes grew noticeably less warm as he returned the Marquess's

glare.
 
"I give you leave to try."

"Shemaine!" A feminine voice cried, drawing their attention to a small,

slender woman with pale blond hair who was hurrying across the

thoroughfare toward Shemaine and her father.
 
On either side of her were

two women garbed in servants' attire who were hastening to keep up, one

an older, plumpish woman with gray hair, and the other a maid of an age

about a score and ten.

"Mama!" Shemaine cried, and was immediately swept to the thoroughfare by

her father.
 
Sidestepping to avoid an oncoming wagon and team, she waved

to her mother, and then, as soon as the conveyance had passed, the two

came together with a cry of glee.
 
With arms wrapped tightly about each

other, they stood in the middle of the road, not caring that riders and

wagons were passing in front and.
 
behind them.
 
The fierce embrace

eased to some degree, allowing them to touch and gaze at each other as

if they tried to comprehend that they were actually together again.

The older servant was weeping, anxiously awaiting her turn, and when she

blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief, it finally dawned on Shemaine

that their old cook was there also.
 
Facing the elder, Shemaine hugged

her jubilantly.
 
"Oh, Bess!
 
How wonderful it is to see you!
 
All of

you!" With a gay laugh, Shemaine stepped away and embraced the younger

servant, who had come forward to claim her attention.
 
"Nola!
 
For

heaven's sakes, what are you doing here?"

Her mother readily explained.
 
"I've been using Nola's services in your

absence, Shemaine, because my old Sophy began ailing.
 
But Nola will be

yours again once we get you back to England."

Shemaine looked around and, extending her hand toward Gage again,

invited him to join her.
 
Her father and Maurice followed closely on his

heels, having immediately taken a fierce dislike to the colonial. It was

his familiar handling of the woman they held dear as a daughter and

fiancee that they couldn't abide.

"Mama .
 
.
 
.
 
Papa .
 
.
 
.
 
Maurice .
 
.
 
." Shemaine briefly settled a

glance on each before she deliberately slipped an arm through Gage's,

drawing him to her.
 
"This is my husband, Gage Thornton."

"Your husband!" Maurice barked.
 
"But you were betrothed to me!"

Catching Gage's shoulder, Shemus spun him about until they stood toe to

toe.
 
It didn't matter that the colonial stood a whole head taller.

The elder seized his lapel and glared up at him with all the fury of an

outraged father.
 
Even his frizzled red hair, which had paled over the

years with whitening strands, seemed to stand on end with his wrath.

"What do you mean, marrying my daughter without my consent?"

Shemaine clamped a trembling hand to her throat.
 
"Papa, don't!"

"I didn't need your consent," Gage answered tersely.
 
Gripping the

smaller man's wrist, he dragged the white-knuckled hand away from his

coat.
 
"Shemaine was already mine."

Maurice stepped near the two whose glares dueled like glinting sabers

and informed Shemus bluntly, "He's the one who bought her papers .
 
.
 
.

the one Captain Fitch told us about.
 
The wife-murderer, so the bosun

says.
 
Obviously this colonial forced Shemaine to marry him!"

"No!" Shemaine pressed her hands to her face in dismay, for the world,

which had seemed like heaven only a moment earlier, was now closing in

around her again.
 
Facing her mother, she pleaded for help. "He's not a

wife-murderer, Mama!
 
He asked me to marry him, and I accepted!
 
Because

I wanted to!'' Camille was as bemused as her husband, but she moved

forward and laid a gentle hand upon Shemus's arm.
 
'The middle of the

road is no place for us to conduct inquiries into this matter, my dear.

We must seek a private room, perhaps one at an inn will suffice."

"Your pardon, madam," Gage offered stiffly.
 
"There's been an influx of

ships docking here recently, and with only one inn in the hamlet, I

rather doubt you'll find space for even one of you there."

"But where are we to go?" This time it was the mother who turned to the

daughter for help.
 
"There are so many of us.
 
And we've come so far.

What are we to do?"

Shemaine went to her husband and asked in a subdued tone.
 
"Do you

suppose Mrs.
 
McGee would consent to putting them up?"' Gage would have

gladly consigned them to sleep in the street if not for his wife.

"Possibly tomorrow, but what about tonight, Shemaine?
 
Twould be a late

hour before we could get back home.
 
We can't rout our guest out of bed

and burden her with the task of returning to the hamlet and opening her

home to people who are strangers to her.
 
Twould be too much to expect

of the old woman."

"Is there some way they can stay with us tonight?" Shemaine cajoled

softly.
 
"Perhaps you and I can sleep on the floor...."

"We wouldn't think of putting you out of your own bed," Camille

interjected, though she could hardly approve of their little girl being

married to this stranger.
 
She was so young, and he .
 
.
 
.
 
so, so .
 
.

.

Camille could find no adequate word to describe her feelings toward the

man, except that she was sure he was nothing less than a scoundrel who

had taken advantage of her daughter.

"I'd like to see the blackguard put out of my daughter's bed!" Shemus

growled.

"I'd like to suggest an annulment," Maurice offered boldly.
 
"The l

beast has no doubt imposed himself upon her.
 
Whether Shemaine admits it

or not, I'm sure she was under great duress when she accepted."

Shemus was not so civilized with his recommendations.
 
"I'd like to see

the man gelded!"

Shemaine clapped a trembling hand over her mouth and moaned, "I think

I'm going to be sick!"

"Good heavens, child!" Camille cried, looking aghast.
 
"Don't tell me

you're .
 
.
 
.
 
you're .
 
.
 
."

"You're what?" Shemus implored, looking stricken.
 
If his wife was

upset, then it was damned certain he would be infuriated by whatever she

was thinking.

Camille waved a hand weakly, hoping against hope it wasn't true. "With

child.
 
.
 
."

Shemaine closed her eyes and shuddered squeamishly as her father let out