Petals on the River (83 page)

stated slowly, as if to help his parent understand the necessity of the

woman's presence.
 
"And if, in the process of looking after him, she may

consent to serve you a meal or do you some small service, then I would

urge you not to resist unduly.
 
Mrs.
 
McGee is not so old that she can't

give you a proper tongue-lashing."

"Just how old is the biddy, anyway?" William barked.
 
"Doddering and

dowdy, I presume!"

"Actually, Mary Margaret is quite a handsome woman." Gage's lips began

to twitch with amusement as he realized his sire seemed far more

concerned about the woman's age than with anything else.
 
"I suppose we

could have found a younger woman to sit with you, but she might not have

been nearly as comely."

William squinted suspiciously at his son as he pressed the point. "How

old did you say she was?"

Gage shrugged.
 
"Actually, I didn't.
 
I don't have any idea how old she

is.
 
I never felt inclined to ask, but it can't be too much older than

you, if at all.
 
What are you, sixty-five?
 
She's got to be around that

age, plus or minus."

Andrew came thumping up the stairs with an armful of books and, upon

reaching the loft, immediately scurried to the cot, where he dropped his

burden beside the elder.

"Mommee Sheeaim said you can read to me if'n ye want, Gran'pa, cause

she's gettin' dressed and can't take time right now." Propping his

elbows on the edge of the cot, the youngster settled his chin in his

hands and peered at his grandfather cajolingly.
 
"Will you, huh,

Gran'pa?"

William could not resist his grandson's heartwarming entreaty. Clearing

his throat, he assumed a more benevolent demeanor for the child, but his

cheeks took on a ruddy hue as he flicked his gaze toward Gage and

gestured lamely toward his leather trunk.
 
"You'll find a pair of

spectacles in the top receptacle.
 
Will you fetch them for me?"

"I'll get em, Gran'pa!" Andrew cried eagerly, and ran to the chest as

his father lifted the lid and folded back the cover of the first

compartment.
 
Receiving the eyeglasses with an admonition to be careful,

the boy returned to his grandfather and watched curiously as the elder

put them on.
 
William glanced askance at the child, who, greatly

intrigued by his own reflection in the lenses, leaned close in front of

the elder's face.

"Do you see a little squirrel?" William queried fondly.

"I see Andee!"

"I think that's a little squirrel you see," William teased as a grin was

wrenched from his lips.

"Oh, no, Gran'pa!" Andrew curled a finger inwardly and jabbed at his own

chest.
 
"That's me!
 
Mommee Sheeaim show me in the water when we go down

by the pond!
 
That's Andee!"

"I see a little squirrel from this side of the eyeglasses."

"Can I see?" Andrew could hardly restrain himself as he pressed his face

alongside his grandfather's and tried to look through the lenses from

the older viewer's direction.

William's grin broadened as he cut his eyes askance.
 
"See anything?"

Closing one eye, Andrew squinted more intently.
 
"Huh-uh."

.

"Then perhaps you should wear them yourself for a better view." Andrew

willingly allowed the wires to be affixed behind his ears, but when he

tried to look through the spectacles, his eyes soon crossed. Turning his

head this way and that, he tried to right his vision. "Gran'pa!
 
I can't

see nothin' !"

Gage pressed a lean knuckle across his lips to forestall his laughter.

From his point of view, the strong lenses made his son look more than a

little bug-eyed.
 
He tiptoed across the room to the stairs and paused

there to glance back as his father scooped up a sketch of a squirrel he

had drawn earlier that day.

William held it in front of the boy and urged, "Now take the glasses

off."

Andrew obeyed, and his expression changed to one of elation as he saw

the lifelike sketch.
 
"Oh, Gran'pa!
 
You draw squirrel good like Daddee

draw ship!"

Gage descended the stairs with the same care with which he had crossed

the room, for he was unwilling to disturb the two, who were completely

engrossed with each other.
 
It had warmed his heart immensely to see his

father playing with Andrew, for it was a cold fact that he had never

thought his sire would ever care for his grandchildren.
 
Now he was

seeing the elder in a different light, one that had been illumined by

the natural inquisitiveness of a child.

Shemaine looked up as Gage came into their bedroom and immediately

turned around to show him the laces that had become ensnared at the back

of her bodice.
 
"I must be getting fat!
 
Or Victoria was as thin as a

reed when she wore this gown!
 
I had to let out the laces so I could

breathe, and look what I've done trying to get them adjusted!"

Coming up close behind his wife, Gage slipped his arms around her and

assumed a thoughtful expression as he cupped her breasts within his

hands.
 
"Aye, there's more than a handful now." He leaned over her

shoulder and, plucking the neckline away from her bosom, peered down

into the garment to admire the swelling fullness that rose tantalizingly

above the lace-trimmed chemise.
 
"Two ripe melons ready to be devoured.

I can hardly wait til we return tonight."

Shemaine thrust an elbow backward, playfully jabbing him in the ribs,

and tossed a smile over her shoulder as she coyly scolded, "Behave,

sir!"

"With every woman but you, my love," her husband assured her huskily,

spreading kisses upward along her throat.
 
"You're my solitary source

for carnal pleasures."

"I'm glad." Shemaine sighed, leaning her head back upon his shoulder as

she stroked the lean hands that had returned to caress her breasts.
 
"I

could not bear to share you with another woman.
 
I'm like Roxanne in

that respect."

"Aye, madam, but I'm your possession, not hers.
 
You have a right to

feel that way."

A light knock on the front door interrupted, announcing the arrival of

their guest.
 
With the summons, Gage remembered that Andrew would have

company in his bedroom that night and that the walls were not thick

enough to keep the squeak of a bed from being heard.

"We'll have to try out the bear rug tonight," Gage mused aloud slipping

a hand inside his wife's chemise to fondle a round breast. "Or Mary

Margaret will wonder about our inability to leave each other alone."

"I aired the rug outside yesterday," Shemaine informed him, lifting

smiling eyes upward to meet his warmly glowing gaze.
 
"Knowing your

insatiable appetite, I considered our options with Mrs.
 
McGee in the

next room."

" Twas shrewd of you, my dear, to think ahead," Gage murmured, dropping

a loving kiss upon her brow.
 
Brushing his fingers with slow

deliberation over a pliant peak, he withdrew his hand and let out a

halting breath as he moved back a step, but his attempt to curb his

excitement was greatly impeded when his wife reached behind her for a

quick, exploring stroke of her hand, sending a thunderbolt jolting

through his loins.
 
Then, with a gleaming smile of appreciation, she

cast a triumphant glance toward him, wrenching a grin from him.
 
"Aye, I

can't be around you without being affected.
 
If not for Mary Margaret

waiting outside our front door, I'd make time for us this very moment."

"The invitation is open anytime, my love," Shemaine breathed with a

sultry smile.

"I'll collect upon your promise later," Gage assured her with a

meaningful wink, moving toward the door.

Stepping into the parlor, Gage directed his thoughts to something far

less pleasurable than his beautiful wife and had regained control of his

appetites by the time he got to the door.
 
As he opened the front

portal, Mary Margaret greeted him with a smile and then turned to wave

farewell to Gillian, who had brought her upriver in his father's boat.

"I'll see ye tomorrow," she called to the young man.

Facing her host again, Mary Margaret looked him over from head to toe

and nodded her approval of his gentlemanly attire.
 
His frock coat,

breeches, waistcoat and stockings were of deep blue silk, nicely

accentuated by a crisp, white shirt, jabot and stock.

!

.i.

Sweeping a hand to invite her in, Gage showed a leg in a gentlemanly bow

and smiled.
 
"Welcome to our home, my lady."

Mary Margaret complied with a grin.
 
"Well, ye handsome rogue, I see

ye've lost none o' yer looks since I last saw ye.
 
Ye've garbed yerself

a lot fancier, I vow."

"Something my father gave me," Gage admitted, smoothing the costly coat.

He had almost forgotten the rich, sumptuous feel of silk.
 
"He said his

girth had expanded well beyond the fit of the garments, but that's not

likely, considering he's the same size I've always known him to be."

"Then think of the garments as a gift from a dotin' parent," the woman

recommended kindly.

A contemplative smile traced Gage's lips.
 
"I never thought of my father

as a doting parent before, but I suppose I'll have to change my mind,

considering he took the lance that was meant for me."

The Irish blue eyes twinkled teasingly as Mary Margaret tilted her head

at a coy angle.
 
"Have ye missed me?"

"Immensely!" Gage replied with a chuckle, and brought in her small case