Petals on the River (45 page)

him.
 
Yet, for the life of him, he could not abandon the tantalizing

situation he now found himself in.
 
"The snake was poisonous.
 
It could

have killed you.
 
Or at the very least made you ill.
 
Do you have any

idea how it got in here?"

Shemaine could not still the nervous quaking that had seized her. She

was too exposed to feel anything but trepidation with a man in the room.

Indeed, her uneasiness troubled her tongue as she offered an

explanation.
 
"The s-snake must have found its way into the bbasket of

clothes I left on the porch this afternoon.
 
I w-would assume it curled

inside the towel to s-sleep."

You should be thankful it didn't try to strike while you were bringing

in the basket."

Shemaine raised her gaze hesitantly to his, and Gage felt inclined to

meet it.
 
That simple act proved his undoing.
 
Whatever noble intentions

he had meant to manifest in her presence, no matter how scant they may

have been, were hacked asunder as his male instincts rose up like some

fierce, sword-wielding barbarian on a black charger. He was a man

famished for want of a woman, and his hungering eyes devoured the

delicious sights as if he contemplated his first meal after a lengthy

fast.
 
Heretofore he had cursed the scarcity of the linens, finding them

limited in their usefulness for toweling a man' s body dry, but tonight

he was greatly appreciative of the fact that this one, in particular,

was narrow enough to be extremely generous.

His gaze ranged eagerly downward from creamy shoulders to her ripe

breasts, temptingly squeezed upward by an encompassing arm.
 
The top of

the towel was only partially visible above her silken limb, and its

furrowed edges did little to hide the cleavage deepened by the pressure

of confinement.
 
Indeed, from his height, he could see down into the

makeshift bodice where the cloth slanted briefly away from the

tantalizing fullness.
 
His advantage allowed him a minute glimpse of a

pale pink hue, making him anxious to view the whole of it.

Where her arms did not hinder his perusal, the dampened cloth revealed

every curve and hollow as it clung cloyingly to the womanly terrain,

liberally hinting of the sweet delights it veiled.
 
Her whole side, from

her right breast downward past the towel that ended at a shapely thigh,

lay bare to his wandering gaze.
 
In truth, her skin was as soft and fair

as he had imagined it would be.
 
And he was sure it would be just as

delectable and sweet to taste.

His eyes smoldered darkly as they swept upward again, making Shemaine

painfully aware of just how vulnerable she was.
 
She could not quell her

violent trembling or tame the unceasing frantic thudding of her heart.

Indeed, the desire blazing in those brown orbs would have made a warrior

maid feel threatened.
 
Fully cognizant of her master's greater strength,

she could entertain no hope of holding him off if he decided to throw

her down and have his way with her.

The moment dragged on beyond endurance, doing much to provoke

Shem-ainess Irish temper.
 
Her ire finally displayed itself in a blunt

question as she vented her frustration with his brazen scrutiny. "Would

you mind if I get some clothes on now, Mr.
 
Thornton?" Shemaine gave him

a copious serving of sarcasm as she prodded.
 
"/tperchance you haven't

noticed, this towel leaves much to be desired as sufficient clothing."

"Your pardon, Shemaine," Gage apologized with a brief, amused twitch of

his lips.
 
"The sights are so lush and pleasurable, I nigh forgot that

you might be distressed over your lack of attire.
 
Please forgive me."

Shemaine raised her chin to a haughty level, wondering if he made light

of his ogling because she had voiced no objection until now. Lest he

feel encouraged by her tardiness, she cut keenly through to the heart of

the matter.
 
"Aye, I am distressed, Mr.
 
Thornton, but tis what I see in

your eyes that makes me fear what will come of this.
 
If you do not

intend to dishonor me, sir, I beg you leave now before you reconsider."

After another totally encompassing perusal, Gage inclined his head in a

gesture of compliance and stepped to the interior door.
 
Passing through

the portal without pausing or glancing back, he closed it gently behind

him.
 
A moment later she heard what sounded like a chair being righted

in the kitchen.

"Warts off a toad," Shemaine fussed, flinging away the treasonous towel.

Saucily waggling her head, she mimicked her master's jaunty excuse in a

hissing whisper.
 
"I nigh forgot you might be distressed over your lack

of attire, Shemaine.
 
Ohhhh, Mr.
 
Thornton!
 
What deceptive wiles you

practice!"

She snatched on her nightgown and slipped a robe over it, knotting the

narrow sash firmly about her slender waist though she had grave doubts

that any garment would be adequate defense against the lust that she had

glimpsed in those lucent eyes.
 
She was rather naive about the prurient

appetites of the opposite gender, but she was perceptive enough to know

that when a man looked at a woman the way Gage Thornton had jrst looked

at her, he definitely had mahng on the mind.

When Gage folded back the bedcovers and slipped between the sheets a

short time later, the delightful air-freshened scent permeated his

senses, making him aware of a definite change that his pillows and

linens had undergone since his departure from bed that morning. Whatever

Shemaine had done, it soon became apparent to him that Roxanne had been

far too busy chasing after him to do the same.
 
He found it immensely

pleasurable to fluff the goose-down pillows beneath his head and inhale

their sweet fragrance.
 
Truly, after spending the whole of the afternoon

in brooding contemplation, he realized he had become quite relaxed and

was ready to taste the sweet succor of sleep, like a babe who had just

been suckled.
 
But then, he couldn't quite keep his U I mind from

dwelling on the stirring vision of Shemaine's ripe breasts swelling

upward above the towel or the delicious fantasy that any man might

linger over, the thought of savoring their fullness with warm, wanton

kisses.

." SiS i.
 
.

CHAPTER 9

A lesson on loading and firing a muzzleloader commenced shortly after

supper four days later.
 
Gage approached Shemaine soon after she had

dried and put away the dishes.
 
For the sake of caution, he bade Andrew

to stay on the back porch and play with his blocks where they could keep

a close eye on him, well away from the target which Gage proceeded to

set up in the opposite direction.
 
Before giving his bondswoman a

weapon, Gage explained its proper loading and priming, then carefully

demonstrated the procedure.
 
He fired a shot and then watched closely as

she readied the rifle for another one.

Prior to letting her shoot, Gage warned Shemaine that pulling the

trigger would only be the first step in the lengthy process of firing a

rifle.
 
Once the hammer fell and hit the frizzen, the flint would touch

off sparks to ignite the powder, which would then explode and launch the

lead shot through the barrel.
 
Altogether, it would seem like a full

moment had passed before the flintlock fired, but of course it wouldn't

take quite that long.

Gage suggested a convenient way for her to hold the firearm so the

weight of it wouldn't tire her arms overmuch and, to critique her

stance, stepped close behind her to adjust the weapon in her grasp. The

warm pressure of his long body casually conforming to her back was

enormously distracting to Shemaine, and in a few short moments the

simple act of breathing became difficult.
 
It was a turnabout, to' be

sure, to find herself coping with her own reaction to his proximity, an

uncontrollable trembling being the least of it.
 
She certainly could not

judge the man too harshly for the blatant desire she had glimpsed in his

eyes a few nights back when she now felt her own heart rush to a swifter

pace each and every time the inside of his arm grazed her breast or his

thighs brushed against her buttocks.
 
Her skirts lent her no protection.

Indeed, she would have required a sturdy suit of armor to shield herself

from the searing contact of his male form.
 
She could not imagine her

tutor remaining oblivious to her chaotically thumping heart, but if by

some chance he was, then she most definitely was not. It took great

resolve for her not to bolt and run.

Despite her nervous agitation, the horrendous noise of the gunshots, and

the jolt of the stock against her shoulder that slammed her back against

the man, Shemaine managed to glean a goodly amount of knowledge about

the proper handling of firearms.
 
Though his nearness flustered her no

small degree, Gage made shooting almost as much of a thrill as dancing

at a ball.
 
She was delighted with her ability as a novice to hit a

stationary target and eagerly anticipated the day when she could fix her

sights on a moving mark and shoot a hole through it as well.
 
She

suffered serious doubts about her ability to kill an animal or a man and

fervently hoped the day would never come when her mettle would be tested

in such a way, but she knew she would probably find herself of a

different mind-set entirely if she ever had to face the threat of being

beaten senseless or even killed by Jacob Potts.

"'Twould seem, my girl, you're a natural at hitting the target," Gage

boasted in her behalf the next day.
 
"Now let's see what you can do with

a moving target."

Gillian had volunteered to throw a tin plate high into the air for them,

but Gage, having taken up a position close behind Shemaine, had slipped

his arms around her to help her hold the weapon and to lead her through

the procedure from the first sighting and finally the firing.

Although Gage would allow her to actually aim the flintlock and pull the