Petals on the River (25 page)

in some surprise.

With heart-thumping confusion, Shemaine searched the sun-bronzed visage

for some hint of her master's mood, but the only thing she could be

certain of at the moment was his height, for Gage Thornton stood more

than a head taller than she.
 
The quaver in her own voice made her

realize just how fainthearted she had become, for she was as skittish of

the man as his son had been of her.
 
"Is there something else you wish,

Mr.
 
Thornton?"

"Aye, Shemaine, there is." His smile was brief enough to be terse "I'd

like you to stay and eat with us."

Self-consciously she folded her arms across her bosom, not at all sure

what he could see.
 
"I'm not decently dressed, sir."

"You look just fine," Gage assured her as his eyes touched her face and

the curling wisps-that coyly framed it.
 
It had always amazed him how

fetching Victoria had looked scurrying about the kitchen in her

nightgown and bare feet.
 
Since her death he had felt a strange,

haunting vacancy in the kitchen, even when Roxanne had occupied it, but

this girl, with her ratty pigtails and a dusting of flour on her saucy

nose filled that dark void with a feeling of warmth and life.
 
Just for

a few moments more he wanted to savor her presence, and hopefully that

gnawing sense of emptiness would fade forever from his awareness "I

don't think Andrew and I have ever shared a meal as appetizing as the

one you've prepared for us this morning, Shemaine.
 
Roxanne always had

to cook breakfast for her father before coming out here.
 
That left me

with the task of putting together something for the boy and me.
 
I can

seriously attest that it was a poor attempt at best.
 
And we certainly

haven't been able to enjoy the presence of a beautiful lady at our table

since Victoria was taken from us.
 
I'd like you to stay with us,

Shemaine, just the way you are.
 
Will you?"

Shemaine was no less embarrassed now by his careful perusal of her face

than she had been by his earlier inspection of her form, but she thought

it wise not to complain.
 
If he limited himself to loohng, then she'd

have to consider herself fortunate indeed.
 
"If tis your wish, sir."

"Aye, tis," Gage whispered.
 
Deliberately he leaned forward to breathe

in the fragrance of her hair.
 
"You smell nice, too."

Unsettled by his close attention, Shemaine ran her fingers nervously

through the long, feathery strands that had escaped at her temples,

fervently wishing she could retreat to the safety of the loft.

"I probably smell like breadþ"

"Like any woman when she's been cooking in a kitchen," Gage murmured

warmly.
 
He swept a hand invitingly toward the bench where she had sat

the night before.
 
"After you, Shemaine."

Obediently she slid into the high-backed seat and accepted a cup of tea

from him as Andrew cocked his head and looked at her curiously. Smiling

in response, she reached for a piece of bread which she had rolled out

and cut into the shape of a man for him earlier that morning.

"This is for you, Andrew," she said, offering it to him.

"Daddee!" he exclaimed excitedly, showing his father what she had given

him.
 
"Sheeaim cook man!"

Shemaine laughed and, reaching out a hand, ruffled the boy's hair.

He chortled, wrinkling his nose at her and, with his little fingers,

pried off an arm from the bread and stuffed it into his mouth.
 
Her eyes

glowed as she watched him chew the piece with relish.
 
Then he looked up

at his father again and giggled.

"Man yummy, Daddee!"

Gage chuckled as he spooned scrambled eggs seasoned with chives onto his

own plate.
 
"I know, Andy.
 
I like the bread, too."

"Sheeaim make you man, Daddee?" Andrew asked, leaning forward to search

his father's plate.

"No, Andy, Shemaine made the man especially for you, but she cooked a

delicious breakfast for us both."

"Sheeaim nice, Daddee?"

"Shemaine very nice, Andy."

The emphasis Gage placed on the single word made Shemaine glance up in

surprise, and for a brief moment she found her gaze ensnared as he

probed the translucent depths of green.
 
Then Andrew asked to be given

eggs, and his father readily complied.

Shemaine's appetite was still far from adequate, and after only a few

bites she grew uncomfortably queasy.
 
She made a brave attempt to finish

the small portions she had taken on her plate, but the threat of heaving

up what little she had eaten made her reconsider.
 
Averting her gaze

from the table, she folded her hands in her lap as the other two

continued to eat.
 
Since they were apparently enjoying the meal and were

plainly in no rush to conclude it, she could foresee a lengthy delay

before she would be able to escape to the loft.

Gage Thornton was hardly oblivious to his bondswoman.
 
He had made a

concerted effort not to peruse her any more than he had already, despite

the instincts that compelled him to do so.
 
If he had found it difficult

to keep his eyes from straying to her after he had returned from Hannah

Fields's, then it was doubly hard this morning, when her clothes were

less confining.
 
He was especially desirous of scanning her breasts.

Though ample enough to arouse any man's lusting admiration, the fullness

was youthfully proud, stirring within him a strong yearning to stroke

his hands over their softness and pluck them free of her garments.
 
But

such an idea caused havoc within him for it made him painfully sensitive

to the hard-pressing needs that were in serious want of being sated.

Despite his reluctance to let her go, Gage could no longer ignore

Shemaine's impatience to leave the table and finally peered up at her as

she rose to pour him another cup of tea.
 
The wary glance she cast him

in return and her unmistakable incertitude made him realize that she was

feeling as trapped as a caged sparrow.
 
He had no choice but to relent.

"Perhaps I've been unkind to insist you stay with us, Shemaine. If you'd

like, you may go to your room and get dressed."' Relief flooded through

Shemaine, bringing a wavering smile to her lips.

"Thank you, sir.
 
I do believe I made myself sick trying to eat so

much."

"That's understandable, considering what you've been through," Gage

replied, feeling some chagrin for having kept her.
 
"Just let me hnow

when you're feeling better.
 
My men will be arriving within the hour,

and I'll need to leave Andrew with you so I can start work."' "I won't

be long, sir."

Shemaine was anxious to leave the torturous sight of food behind her,

but after washing her face and body with cool water, she revived

considerably.
 
She laid out the blue gown, noticing that she had

overlooked the fact that the lace trim on the rounded collar was loose

in the back, but she didn't dare take time to mend it.
 
After donning

her clothes and combing her hair into a sedate coiffure, she took a

moment to set the loft in order and drag aside the canvas sheets that

had been hung above the balustrade.

Upon her return to the kitchen, Shemaine found Gage seated in the rochng

chair near the hearth.
 
He was reading to Andrew, who was listening

intently as he reclined upon his father's chest.
 
Reluctant to leave the

security of the elder's arms, the boy refused to go to her or to

acknowledge her efforts to draw him away until Shemaine created a

playful diversion.
 
Singing an Irish ditty she had learned as a child,

she wrapped a cloth around her hand, marked a face on the back of it,

defining the lips on her thumb and forefinger, and hid her sleeved arm

behind Gage's.
 
Moving the digits to make it seem as if her makeshift

puppet could talk, she cajoled Andrew in a squeaky voice, winning his

undivided attention.
 
Soon he was chortling in glee and evoking chuckles

from his father.
 
Then she slowly withdrew the puppet from view, pulling

it down behind the elder' s arm.
 
Eagerly Andrew leaned across his

father's lap to search for it, and much to his delight and surprise,

Shemaine popped it into view.

"Peekaboo!
 
I see you!"

Amid the youngster's laughter, Shemaine failed to notice the man turning

his head to catch the subtle scent of her hair as she leaned close.

Neither was she cognizant of his gaze leisurely stroking a small ear and

the neat braid she had coiled in a knot at the nape of her neck.

Had she been inclined to lift her head, she might have glimpsed a hungry

yearning in those amber-lit eyes that all but devoured her.

Finally Andrew agreed to come into her arms and seemed content to be

there.
 
Singing softly against the boy's cheek, Shemaine followed his

father to the back porch.
 
There she coaxed Andrew into waving farewell

as Gage strode toward the steps.

"Bye, Daddee," Andrew called at her whispered urging, and then wrinkled

his small nose above a wide grin when his father glanced around with a

chuckle.

Coming back, Gage placed a lean knuckle beneath his son's chin and

tilted the small face upward for a doting kiss on the forehead.
 
"Be a

good boy, Andy."

Andrew turned wide, inquisitive brown eyes to the woman who held him and

then, very curiously, peered up at his father again.
 
"Kiss Sheeaim,

Daddee?"

"Oh, no, Andrew!" Shemaine gasped, and quickly shook her head, hoping

the man wouldn't think she had given his son the idea.
 
Gage willingly

obliged and lifted her face as he settled his lips upon her gaping

mouth, much to Andrew's giggling amusement.
 
His kiss went far beyond

the boundaries of a casual peck between strangers.
 
Indeed, it was as