Petals on the River (11 page)

women."

Gage finally glanced toward the group of onlookers, setting them to

nervous flight with nothing more than a thoughtful scowl.
 
Of a sudden,

they seemed in an anxious dither to cross the gangplank and board the

ship.
 
He gave little consideration to their undignified haste as he

looked at her again.
 
"You made your lack of skills quite clear ere I

bought you, Shemaine.
 
I cannot claim I've been defrauded. There'll be

no taking you back."

Shemaine felt her heart grow light with relief.
 
" Tis good to know

that, sir."

Gage gestured casually to her riding habit, having noticed several tars

watching the girl from afar.
 
" Tis plain we'll have to do something

about your clothing.
 
I don't appreciate the stares you attract, nor

would I have you shamed by my lack of generosity."

Once again Shemaine tried to read the inscrutable frown that occupied

his sun-bronzed brow as he slowly perused her, but the man himself

seemed carefully reserved and enigmatic.
 
Knowing only too well that her

appearance could cause even the staunch-hearted to cringe in chagrin,

she offered hesitantly, "If you'd prefer not to be seen with me, Mr.

Thornton, I can follow several paces behind you so no one will know

we're together."

Gage served quick death to her suggestion.
 
"I didn't lay out forty

pounds for you, girl, just to have you snatched behind my back. You have

no understanding of this area, else you'd know there are not a lot of

women to choose from, especially those worthy of being called pretty.

There are, however, enough trappers and backwoodsmen wandering around to

give a virtuous maid serious cause to worry.
 
Any number of them would

be willing to commit mayhem to get themselves a woman to take back to

their camps.
 
You'd be a fine catch for a man like that, especially

during the winter months."

Shemaine was hardly appreciative of his scolding and explained

brittlely.
 
"I only meant to save you some embarrassment, sir."

"I know what you thought, Shemaine, but you were wrong.
 
Even

half-starved and filthy dirty, you're the comeliest maid the people of

this hamlet have seen in some months."

Shemaine wasn't one to be easily taken in by a few charitable

compliments.
 
"Your flattery would surely turn a simple maid's head

about on her shoulders, Mr.
 
Thornton.
 
Were I one, I'd probably be

overwhelmed with gratitude, but I'm fully cognizant of just how wretched

I look."

At her blatant rejection of his praise, Gage displayed a bit of

exasperation of his own as he sighed.
 
"In time, girl, you'll learn that

I speak the plain truth.
 
I don't hold with lying."

"And in time, sir," Shemaine was quick to rejoin in stilted tones,

"you'll learn I'm not a mere girl."

Gage noted the deepening blush in his bondswoman's cheeks as she stood

in rigid poise, as if bracing herself for his reprimand.
 
Leaning toward

her slightly, he commanded her full attention.
 
Staring directly into

those widened eyes, he breathed his answer.
 
"Believe me, Shemaine, I

know that now."

His emphatic admission disarmed Shemaine completely and opened up a

plethora of questions in her mind.
 
Of a sudden, she was not at all sure

the colonial had been thinking solely of his son when he had laid out

his purse for her.
 
If he had told her outright that he had closely

appraised her womanly curves for what enjoyment they could give to him,

especially her bosom, which was probably the only curve she hadn't

entirely forfeited through her lengthy ordeal, he could not have made

her more uneasy.

Yet, when Shemaine considered how.
 
obstinate she could be, she deemed

it advantageous to offer some insight into her own failings if she

wanted to get along with the man or even held out hopes of staying with

him long enough to win his approval.
 
If she angered him unduly there

was absolutely no guarantee that he had to keep her.
 
He could just as

well sell her to the next stranger willing to pay his price. For her own

preservation, it seemed imperative that she demonstrate a willingness to

be submissive.
 
And if any lecherous schemes were being entertained by

the colonial, then those would have to be addressed once they became

apparent.
 
It was neither wise nor fair to judge a man prior to his

offense.

"I've had little experience being a servant, Mr.
 
Thornton," Shemaine

murmured carefully.
 
"You'll no doubt find me quite outspoken at times.

Perhaps even impertinent."

His gaze never wavered from her face.
 
"I'd rather have you speak your

mind, Shemaine, than see you intimidated by my presence."

Equally surprised by his answer, she conceded, "I have many faults sir,

and one of them is my temper.
 
I fear in that respect I'm very much like

my father."

Gage countered with a warning of his own.
 
"I'm sure you'll get to know

my moods in time, Shemaine, and occasionally think me an ornery beast.

But you needn't be afraid of me.
 
I won't beat you."

Her responding smile was genuine.
 
"I'm relieved to hear that, sir."

"Then come," he urged, taking her arm.
 
Peering up at the threatening

clouds looming overhead, he briefly mused on the prospects of a storm

being unleashed upon them.
 
"We'll get drenched in earnest if we stand

here much longer."

Gage drew her with him as he made his way along the quay, passing people

and stepping around wooden crates as if he had urgent duties elsewhere.

His walk was brisk, his strides long.
 
He was not a man who wasted time

or dallied overmuch at doing nothing.
 
His strength and energy were

valuable assets, and he used them to good advantage.
 
In his haste to

get home before the rain started, he gave little heed to his servant's

lack of vigor and lagging steps.

Shemaine's long fast in the cable her had left her feeling far too

faint and weak to allow her to keep up with her new master.
 
Even before

they reached the end of the wharf, her legs had turned to fragile stilts

that wobbled unsteadily beneath her and threatened to give way entirely.

Perceiving the impending danger as her vision began to blur, and shapes

and structures reeled woozily around her, Shemaine staggered to a

faltering halt and begged weakly for her master to give her pause.

Gaining her release, she stumbled away and clasped a nearby

post for support.
 
She closed her eyes and waited for her strength and

wits to return, hoping fervently that they would.

Gage took note of the shaking hand the girl pressed over her mouth and

the lack of color in her face and knew this was no feigned attack of the

vapors.
 
Half expecting her to collapse, he stepped beside her. "Are you

ill?"

Not wishing to upset her equilibrium more than it was, Shemaine raised

her gaze cautiously and was surprised to find him so near.
 
Her stomach

was so empty she wanted to retch, and it was a difficult moment before

she managed to subdue the urge.
 
"Give me a moment to catch my breath,"

she pleaded in a strained whisper.
 
"Then I'll be better.
 
Tis but a

passing weakness, I'm sure."' Some understanding began to dawn on Gage

as he considered her more closely.
 
Her sunken cheeks and the

all-too-obvious trembling of her slender hands indicated a frailty

associated with a lengthy fast.
 
"When was the last time you had

anything to eat?"

Though the frigid breezes continued to sap her energy and drag her down

into a mental stupor, Shemaine struggled desperately to remain coherent.

"I was given several crusts of bread and a bucket of stale water during

the four days I was locked away in the cable her...." She swayed

dizzily, feeling an invading debility sapping the last vestige of her

strength, but when he reached out and steadied her with a hand beneath

her arm, she staggered back abruptly, feebly brushing away his grasp,

and willed herself to stand alone.
 
"In truth, sir.
 
.
 
." She

swallowed, fighting another wave of nausea, and continued with

difficulty.
 
"I'm so famished .
 
.
 
.
 
I'm nigh to swooning."

Gage promptly hailed a passing vendor and went off to meet the man.

After purchasing several wheat cakes, he returned and offered one to his

bondslave.
 
"Perhaps this will help."

Shemaine accepted the cake eagerly and, tearing it apart, greedily

devoured the pieces, nearly choking as she stuffed them in her mouth.

Mortified by her lack of manners, she refused to lift her gaze to the

man whose tall, broad-shouldered frame sheltered her from the casual

glances of those who traversed the main thoroughfare of the town.
 
She

swallowed the last crumbs and took a ragged breath, meeting his probing

stare hesitantly.
 
"I was considerably more fortunate than some of the

other prisoners, sir.
 
They died from the sparse fare. Thirty-one in

all, to be exact."

Gage recalled the broad shapes of Captain Fitch and his wife and grew

incensed at the thought of them wallowing in gluttony while their

victims died of starvation.
 
"I've heard tales of deprivation suffered

aboard convict ships like the London Pride," he reflected.
 
"I sailed

here as a passenger aboard a merchant vessel some years ago and have

counted myself far luckier than most who have crossed the seas to get

here."

Self-consciously Shemaine folded her arms across her midriff as her

stomach began to rumble.
 
"I'm grateful to be alive, sir, though at