Petals on the River (88 page)

a horrendous bellow of rage.

"Where's a knife?
 
I'll cut the bloody beggar's pebbles out right now!

" Shemaine spun around in a panic and bent forward to heave up her

previous meal.
 
Gage slipped an arm about her shoulders, lending her

support as Nola ran to wet a cloth in the watering through and Bess

stepped forward to wave a vial of smelling salts beneath Shemaine's

nose.

"There now, darling', take a deep breath," the old cook coaxed.

Gage heard a familiar voice cautiously greeting the strangers and

glanced around in some relief to find Ramsey approaching him

apprehensively.
 
"Calley wanted me ta come out an' see bout ye an'

Shemaine afore we left for home," he informed Gage.
 
"Soon as I come out

of the tavern, I figgered ye were in some kind o' tiff with these here

people.

Do ye need any help?"

"Not unless you can supply these good people with beds for the night."

Gage muttered none too happily.

Ramsey was clearly taken aback by the suggestion.
 
"Ye mean ye want me

ta be nice ta these here folks?
 
But they were bout ta bash in yer

bloomin' head!"

"Aye, an' I still might!" Shemus threatened, shaking a fist at Gage.

"So ye needn't worry yerself about doin' any favors for me family!"

Casually ignoring the intimidation, Gage slipped an arm beneath

Shemaines knees and lifted her in his arms.
 
She had not the strength to

raise her head from his shoulder as he faced her father.
 
"If you come

home with me, sir, you'll either be sleeping on the floor or on the

settee in the parlor, because your daughter is in no condition to give

up her bed."

''Daughter?" Some enlightenment began to dawn as Ramsey glanced between

his employer and the elder gentleman.

Gage ignored the interruption as he reluctantly offered to provide

lodging for the O'Hearn family, improvising as he went.
 
"Shemaine's

mother can have the other half of the trundle bed, providing Mrs. McGee

doesn't mind sharing my son's bedroom with her.
 
My son will either have

to sleep in bed with us or on the floor." His amber-brown eyes fixed the

Marquess with an icy stare.
 
"If Mr.
 
Tate, here, will grant you a room

at his home, then you may pass the night in reasonable comfort.

Otherwise, there's a roughed-in bunk and a well-used feather tick aboard

the ship I'm building.
 
The old shipwright who works for me uses it for

short naps after he's eaten at noon.
 
Tis yours as long as you don't

interfere with his schedule."

"And where is this ship located?" Maurice asked crisply.

"On the river about a hundred or so paces beyond my cabin, where the

rest of us will be."

"And is there water other than the river, and a place to bathe?"

"In the stream in front of the cabin." Gage waited, fully expecting the

Marquess to reject the idea for want of something better.

The man was apparently well acquainted with luxury, but he would find

little of it in the wilderness.

"Is this stream inhabited by snakes and such, or have you bathed in it

before?"

Gage gave him a slow nod and verbally twisted the knife in the man's

heart.
 
"Shemaine and I have both bathed in it."

Maurice's dark eyes held his in a cold, level stare.
 
"Then perhaps

Shemaine and I will consider enjoying it together one day .
 
. .
 
after

they hang you for your wife's murder."

Ramsey gasped sharply and sought guidance from Gage.
 
"Seein' as how

ye're busy holdin' yer wife, ye want me ta slap his face or somethin' ?"

Though they never wavered from Gage, Maurice's eyes gleamed in eager

invitation, as if he anticipated such an altercation.
 
"Is your friend

suggesting that you might desire recompense for the insult by way of a

duel?"

"No duel!" Shemaine cried weakly, lifting her head from Gage's shoulder.

She knew only too well that Maurice was an accomplished marksman with

dueling pistols.
 
In fact, there were many things Maurice was adept at,

not the least of which was his skill at verbally baiting men who

antagonized him.
 
He was at his best arguing against the ludicrous

suggestions of pompous lords at court.
 
He could flay an adversary with

innuendos, and a foe would never know the death blow had been struck

until he heard the loud roar of laughter filling a hall.

"As much as I'd like to accommodate you," Gage lightly sneered, "I see

no need to confront you over Shemaine.
 
She is my wife, and I don't

intend to let you kill me so you can claim her as yours."

Maurice hissed in contempt.
 
"You're a coward and a sniveling lout."

Realizing the man was trying to goad him into doing something foolish,

Gage slowly responded with a facial shrug.
 
"Think whatever you will,

but I have a wife, a son at home and another child on the way...."

With a growl Maurice stepped forward to challenge the colonial for

possession of his betrothed, but he felt the wind being snatched from

his sails as Shemaine, heedless of his proximity, Iffled her head from

her husband's shoulder and, with a finger, gently turned that one's face

toward hers.
 
Maurice felt forgotten and betrayed by this young woman

whose disappearance had left him mourning and fretting in deep

discontent.

Shemaine searched Gage's lean, handsome visage, and his responding smile

assured her that what she had been trying to keep secret from him for at

least a little while longer was something that he had already begun to

suspect.
 
He had not needed her mother blurting it out to be apprised of

her condition.

Shemaine's lips mouthed a silent question, How?

Gage pressed his lips near her ear and spoke in a hushed whisper. "No

interruptions in our nightly pleasures since we married, my love. From

experience, a widower knows about monthly cycles and such.
 
Either you

were incapable of having them or had gotten with child soon after we

wed.
 
It was when I started noticing a change in your breasts that I

knew for sure, but I bided my time until you were ready to tell me."

With a soft, contented sigh Shemaine nestled her head to his shoulder,

and Gage continued with the business at hand.

"Your servants are welcome to bed down in some corner of my house," he

told Camille.
 
"Shemaine has been making some new feather mattresses for

us.
 
They're not finished, but they're still serviceable."

"Ye gonna be packed in tighter'n trees in a forest," Ramsey observed

dryly.
 
"An' ye know somethin' else?
 
Ye aren't gonna be able ta sneeze

without needin' someone else ta hold yer handkerchief."

Gage didn't need his friend to explain in greater detail, for Ramsey had

a way of getting directly to the heart of what could eat at a man.

Simply put, making love to Shemaine would be nigh impossible without

their visitors overhearing.

Shemus brushed his frock coat aside and settled his fists on his lean

waist as he stepped up to Gage.
 
"If yer house is so sparse on bedrooms,

just where in the hell did my daughter bed down when she wasn't hitched

ta ye?"

"Papa, please," Shemaine begged, lifting her head and giving her parent

a pleading look over her shoulder.
 
"Can't we wait until we get home to

discuss all of this instead of having it out right here in the middle of

town?" Her eyes flicked toward the people who had stopped along the

boardwalk to gawk at them.
 
"We've become a bigger attraction than the

bride and groom at the wedding feast."

"Just tell me!" Shemus insisted irately, fixing Gage with a persistent

stare.

"Your daughter slept in the loft until we were married, Mr. O'Hearn,"

Gage replied.
 
"But my father is presently ensconced there recuperating

from a serious wound.
 
We also have another guest, with whom your wife

will be sharing my son's bedroom."

"Why can't she sleep with my daughter?" Shemus demanded.

Gage met his gaze directly and explained as if he were speaking to a

simpleton.
 
"Because I'm sleeping with your daughter, and I don't care

to sleep with your wife!"

Hooting in glee, Ramsey clapped his friend on the back in a show of

support, but upon finding himself the recipient of a green-eyed glower

from Shemus, he brushed a hand down his bushy mustache in a lame attempt

to wipe the grin off his face.
 
He coughed behind a hand, managing to

curb an unruly twitching at the corners of his mouth, and was reasonably

sober when he faced Gage.
 
"Will ye be needin' ta send yer wife's kin ta

me house now that ye've committed yerself ta loadin' em all in yer

cabin?"

Gage raised a querying brow at Shemus.
 
"My friend here has some extra

bedrooms available now while his sons are working at Williamsburg.
 
If

you'd care to pass the night in more comfort and privacy than I'm able

to offer you, then I seriously suggest you consider his willingness to

put you up.
 
I'm sure your funds are adequate enough that you could ease

the inconvenience of having the lot of you in his home.
 
Mr.
 
Tate

arrives at my place just after sunrise, if you'd care to come out in the

morning and discuss my marriage to your daughter."

"Perhaps it would be best, Shemus," Camille suggested, taking her

husband's arm.
 
"We're all upset, and if we're crowded together and

can't sleep, we'll be snapping at each other like a pack of wild dogs."

Shemus reluctantly conceded to her wisdom.
 
"As you wish, my dear, but I

would have this thing out ere long."

"I know, dear," she replied sweetly, patting his arm.
 
"We'll talk about