Petals on the River (89 page)

it tomorrow."

Facing Ramsey, Camille bestowed a gracious smile upon him.
 
"If you

would allow us to be guests in your home, sir, we'll be more than

grateful for your kindness and hospitality."

Ramsey gave her a generous display of his best manners as he swept an

arm before him in a flamboyant bow, amazing Gage, who cocked a wry brow

at his friend.
 
"Yer ladyship, twill be me very good pleasure ta take ye

home with me an' me wife."

Shemus raised a brow in sharp suspicion, noticing the man hadn't

included him in his statement.
 
"Do ye welcome the rest of us with as

much eagerness?"

Ramsey never minced words when he was firmly set on a matter.
 
"As long

as ye don't slander Mr.
 
Thornton's good name in me home or in me

presence, then I'll welcome the lot of ye.
 
Otherwise, ye can be findin'

yer own lodgin' for the night."

Camille waited for her husband' s response.
 
The appeal in her gentle

blue eyes told him that she, too, desired a truce for the night.

In consideration of her wishes, he reluctantly nodded, yielding to the

conditions bluntly stated by Ramsey.

"Blast, you evil woman!"

The outcry greeted Gage and Shemaine as soon as they stepped through

their cabin door, causing them to look at each other in sudden

consternation.
 
They could only wonder what mayhem William yearned to

commit on Mary Margaret McGee.

Gage bolted toward the back corridor, hoping he could mollify his father

before anything more disastrous could be said.
 
Shemaine hastened in his

wake, for she could only foresee the Irishwoman needing some gentle

soothing after suffering such slanderous abuse.

"You deliberately sacrificed your knave to draw out my king," William

continued accusingly with a chortle.
 
"And now I have nothing better to

beat your queen.
 
You take the last hand and the kitty."

Mary Margaret's jovial laughter drew Gage and Shemaine to a stumbling

halt near the stairs.
 
Weak with relief, they came together in a

thankful embrace as the conversation continued to drift down from the

upper story.

"Would ye care for another game, me lord?" Mary Margaret sweetly

inquired.

"What, and let you beat me again?" His light-hearted scoffing laughter

denied the possibility.
 
" Tis certain I would have no manly pride left

after such a thrashing!"

"I haven't a ken why ye'd be thinkin' that, me lord,'' the Irishwoman

trilled in charming tones.
 
"There is much ye have ta be proud o'.
 
Why

tis sure I've the'er seen an Englishman better lookin' than yerself, sir

.
 
.
 
.
 
that is, except for yer son, but I'd swear he's the very image

o' ye.
 
And, of course, there be wee Andrew, who's claimed the best o'

both o' ye."

"Aye, he is a handsome boy, isn't he?" William heartily agreed. "He

brings back memories of Gage when he was no older than Andrew."

Only a brief pause ensued before the wily matchmaker queried amiably,

"Where is yer wife now, yer lordship?"

"Oh, Elizabeth died when Gage was twelve.
 
She caught a chill and became

feverish.
 
I was not prepared for the suddenness of her death. It made

me terribly angry.
 
I found myself ill-prepared to nurture my son with

the gentleness she had always displayed.
 
I'm afraid I was gruff and

demanding."

"An' ye the'er remarried?" A note of surprise had crept into Mary

Margaret's tone.

"Never wanted to.
 
I was too busy most of the time, what with the

challenge of building bigger and better ships.
 
Then, too, I found

myself at odds with women .
 
.
 
.
 
I suppose in much the same way I was

with my son.
 
I'm sure those with whom I came in contact thought I was a

crusty old man."

"I find that hard ta believe, yer lordship," Mary Margaret murmured

warmly.
 
"For ye seem quite pleasin' ta be with.
 
Indeed, ye have a way

bout ye that reminds me o' me own dear, departed husband."

"How is that, Mrs.
 
McGee?" William asked curiously.

"Me name is Mary Margaret, me lord, an' I'd be honored if ye were not so

formal in addressin' me."

"Thank you, Mary Margaret.
 
And if you're of such a mind, my name is

William."

"Aye, resolute protector." Mary Margaret sighed thoughtfully.

''I beg your pardon?" His lordship's tone conveyed his confusion.

''William .
 
.
 
.
 
means resolute protector,' " Mary Margaret replied.

'The name does ye service.
 
Ye were a resolute protector o' yer son,

were ye not?"

"I suppose I was.
 
In truth, I couldn't bear to think of losing him

after I had searched for him so long."

''Ye must love him very much."

 
I F F , "Aye, I do, but it has always been rather hard for me to tell

him that." "Well, ye needn't worry yerself bout it anymore, William.
 
Ye

proved yer love far better with yer actions."

Downstairs in the corridor, Gage pressed a finger to his smiling lips as

he looked down at Shemaine.
 
Taking her hand, he led her stealthily from

the corridor and across the parlor.
 
Upon entering their bedroom, he

gently closed the door behind them.
 
With the same noiseless gait, Gage

stepped into the adjoining bedroom to look in on his son.
 
The angelic

face was too irresistible not to kiss, and after straightening, Gage

found Shemaine slipping to her knees beside the trundle bed.
 
Stroking

the boy's brow lovingly, she sang a lullaby in a voice that was nearly

as soft as the gentle brush of her breath.
 
A smile drifted fleetingly

across the small, rosy lips before Andrew heaved a sigh and rolled over

to cuddle against his cloth rabbit.
 
Gage offered his hand as Shemaine

rose to her feet and together they retreated to the adjoining room. Very

quietly the bolt was pushed closed.

"I think we should have a boy so Andrew can have a playmate," Shemaine

suggested with a smile.

Gage stepped to her side and slipped his arms about her, drawing her

close against him.
 
As she leaned her head upon his chest, he lowered

his chin to her capped coiffure and moved his hand in a gentle caress

over her stomach.
 
It seemed as flat as it had always been. "Whether boy

or girl, my love, it makes no difference what the coffer holds.
 
I only

pray that it may go well with you.
 
My heart would stop if I were to

lose you."

Shemaine laughed as she snuggled against him.
 
"Fear not, my love.

My father' s mother whelped six with no difficulty, and she was smaller

than I.
 
A very feisty woman, she was."

"Your father must have gotten it from her," Gage remarked with a

fleeting grin.
 
"But watch the fur fly when William Thornton and Shemus

O'Hearn meet toe to toe.
 
I'm sure each could give lessons to the

meanest shrew in the area."

"Aye, but we were also afraid that your father and Mrs.
 
McGee would get

into a fray, and look what happened," Shemaine reminded her husband.

Gage's thoughts drifted back to what had been said upstairs, and he had

to chuckle at his father's change of attitude toward the Irishwoman.
 
"I

gather from Mary Margaret's gentle inquisition that she has set her

sights on making another match."

Shemaine smiled and rubbed a hand down the front of his waistcoat.

"Don't be too surprised, my love, if it turns out to be a match for Mrs.

McGee, as well."

With a grin Gage plucked the lace cap from his wife's head and began to

loosen the satin tresses.
 
"They do seem to be getting along famously

together.
 
Who knows?
 
They might be good for each other."

A heavy sigh wafted from Shemaine's lips as she remembered her father's

explosion.
 
"I wish my parents could be as understanding about us."

"Perhaps, with time, they'll come to think of me as less of an ogre,"

Gage mused aloud.

"My father has a terrible temper, Gage, so please try not to upset him

unduly when they come tomorrow," Shemaine pleaded.

Her husband settled a reassuring kiss upon her brow.
 
"I'll try to

imagine the way I would feel if some blackguard took advantage of one of

our daughters.
 
I would probably be just as furious, especially if I had

heard stories about the man being a wife-murderer."

"You must be very careful of Maurice, too," Shemaine cautioned. "Don't

let him provoke you into doing anything foolish."

"I rather sensed that the Marquess is willing to reclaim you whatever

the cost." Gage could not find it in himself to fault the man too

harshly for desiring such a thing, for he knew he'd be just as adamant

about winning her back if the roles were reversed.
 
"But I will take

care, my sweet."

"Maurice may look pampered, but don't be fooled.
 
He's as talented with

a sword as he is with a pistol.
 
Thus far, he has only wounded his

adversaries when they've challenged him to duels, but he may prove to be

of a different bent with you."

"No doubt, no doubt," Gage replied, shrugging out of his frock coat.

"If he can kill me, then he would have a clear path to you, andþ" "Or so

he may think," Shemaine interrupted.
 
"But if he kills you, then he'll

win my undying hatred."

Gage doffed his waistcoat, hung it over a chair with the coat, and then