Gage left his canoe by the river and entered the hamlet of Newportes Newes with a definite purpose in mind. He went first to the London Pride, but at his terse inquiry, the bosun’s mate informed him that Jacob Potts was at liberty and wasn’t expected to return to the ship until the following week. When Gage pushed through the doors of the tavern several moments later, he overheard Morrisa being chided by her new owner, an older and rather portly woman wearing a tawdry red gown and a frizzy white wig which sat slightly askew atop her head.
“The gent’s paid good money ta have ye, an’ ye’ll accommodate him,” the elder insisted, pounding a fist upon the table. “An’ I’ll be hearin’ no more o’ yer carpin’ ’bout him bein’ a li’l weasel or that he’s low-down mean like the other girls told ye. I’ve heard meself Sam Myers ain’t got much in his breeches ta speak o’, an’ he likes ta prove himself a man in other ways. But as long as he’s willin’ ta pay the higher fees I charge him for lettin’ me girls go over ta his place ta service his needs, ye’ll tolerate his cuffs an’ his dirty li’l tricks an’ mind yer manners whilst ye’re doin’ it. Do ye hear?”
“Aye, I hear ye, Freida,” Morrisa mumbled, but she was hardly amenable to the idea. There were ways of dealing with odious little rattails like Samuel Myers. Why, with a simple flick of a blade, Jacob Potts could put that blooming toad out of his misery. That is, if her li’l lapdoggie ever got on his feet again and came out of hiding.
It seemed lately that Potts couldn’t do anything right where the bogtrotter was concerned, Morrisa mentally jeered. Hadn’t she sent him out to challenge Gage on the street the night of the dance? But what did Potts do? He got himself beat up good and proper, that’s what! Then, after venturing onto the colonial’s land, he came back with a big hole in his side and was now laid out like an ailing walrus. Freddy had taken him a fair distance away, where he could be treated by a doctor and where he’d be out of harm’s way in case the colonial came looking for him. But for the time being, the swabber was utterly useless to her.
Freida leaned forward to claim Morrisa’s attention with a dark scowl. “I’ve been makin’ some good money since I brought me girls inta this here area, an’ I ain’t wantin’ no li’l snitch like Myers callin’ foul an’ sayin’ he’s been cheated. He just might scare off some o’ our customers if’n he did. I bought ye off that prison ship so’s ye could help me business along, not ta set me at odds with the gents. An’ if’n ye don’t make double o’ what I paid for ye within the first year, ye can bet I’ll be takin’ it out o’ yer hide.”
Morrisa sulked in mutinous discontent as she turned away from the harping crone, but her expression changed to one of wonder when she espied Gage Thornton coming through the door. She was anxious to hear how Shemaine had fared after being wounded, and he was certainly her best source for getting that information. Hopefully the li’l beggar had taken a fever and would soon die like she should have done long ago.
Growing smug in her confidence that she could wreak revenge on her adversary, Morrisa offered a sultry-eyed smile to Gage as she ran a hand invitingly over her voluptuous form. “Well, gov’na, I sees ye’ve changed yer mind ’bout me offer, eh? I knew ‘twould only be a matter o’ time afore ye tired o’ Sh’maine.” Her eyes slowly dropped to her lap as she voiced a probing conjecture. “Sh’maine must’ve made ye real mad for ye ta leave her so sudden like, though. I didn’t expect ye for a couple o’ weeks or so yet. Makes me wonder what she’s done ta ye.”
Leaning back in her chair, Freida gave the tall, handsome stranger a lengthy scrutiny. It was rare to see such a good-looking gent seeking favors from a harlot. Usually such men got their needs met without laying out a single coin. Her heavily rouged lips twisted in a lopsided leer as she sized him up with a keen eye. “Ye’re a right fine one, ye are,” she observed coarsely. “Too fine ta me way o’ thinkin’. I’ll be havin’ ta keep me eyes open just ta see what me girls give away ta ye, seem’s as how they might be wantin’ ta treat ye for the pleasure o’ it. Aye, I’ll be takin’ a close accountin’ after they’ve been with ye just ta make sure they’ve collected their normal fees.”
Gage ignored the madam’s comments and divesting perusal as he settled his gaze upon Morrisa. “I’m looking for Jacob Potts. Have you seen him?”
Morrisa lifted her shoulders in an indolent shrug as she closely examined her nails. “Whate’er would ye be wantin’ ol’ Potts for?”
Gage mentally laid odds that Morrisa knew exactly where the tar was and why he sought him. “I’d like to ask him a few questions.”
The harlot gave him a sidelong stare above a calculating smile. “Don’t tell me the bogtrotter’s been complainin’ ’bout Potts again, makin’ ye feel sorry for her. How is she, anyway?”
Gage’s gaze never wavered from her. “She’s fine.”
“Fine?” Morrisa seemed momentarily befuddled. “Ye mean she . . . she ain’t . . . she didn’t send ye in here after Potts?”
“Actually, I came of my own accord to see how Potts was doing after I wounded him.”
As if taken by surprise, Morrisa slumped in her chair and her red lips pursed in an expressive “Oh.” An accomplished actress, she pretended confusion as she posed a query. “Why in the world would ye shoot poor ol’ Potts?”
Gage raised a curious brow, noting that her voice had sounded unnaturally tense. “Who said I shot him?”
Morrisa frowned sharply, a bit flustered by his response. The colonial was no ignoramus! So why was she being so careless around him? “Why, ye did,” she insisted. “I heared ye say so meself!”
“I said I wounded him,” Gage corrected. “I said nothing about shooting him.”
Morrisa turned aside with a carefully blasé shrug. “How else could a bloke get hisself wounded if’n ‘tain’t by gettin’ shot?”
Gage smiled blandly. “A knife could do as much harm, and I’ve heard that Potts is especially partial to knives, as you are. Perhaps you already know that Potts went out to my place to kill Shemaine and that I shot him during his attempt to escape. Perhaps you were even the one who sent him. You would like to see Shemaine dead, wouldn’t you, Morrisa?”
The strumpet grew outwardly miffed and inwardly nervous. “I don’t know what ye’re talkin’ ’bout, Gage Thornton! An’ I don’t know where Potts is, either! I’m not the swabber’s keeper! The last time I seen him, he was athinkin’ o’ maybe goin’ off ta Hampton or someplace like that. So ye’ll just have ta go an’ search for him yerself, Mister Thornton!”
Gage was only inclined to believe that Potts had left the area. “If he should come to visit you, Morrisa, you’d better tell him that if I ever catch him on my property again, I’ll kill him without stopping to ask why he’s there. You will tell him that, won’t you?”
Morrisa slanted an icy glare toward him. “I’ll tell him, but if’n ye knew Potts at all, ye’d be mindful o’ just how ornery he can be. Yer warnin’ ain’t gonna make much difference ta the bloke. Ye see, when ol’ Potts gets his head set on doin’ mischief, he ain’t too keen ’bout changin’ his mind for nobody.”
“Then, too, you might not want to give him the message for reasons of your own,” Gage needled. “Such a warning might deter Potts from fulfilling your behest. Who can really say how he’d react? He just might be inclined to take heed of my warning rather than chance his life being snuffed out. But whether you tell him or not, Morrisa, just be assured of one thing. If Shemaine is killed or harmed in any way because of his actions, I’ll come looking not only for Potts but for you as well. And I may well kill you both.”
With that, Gage stepped back, gave each woman a crisp nod of farewell, and took his leave of the tavern.
Freida leaned forward in her chair as she fixed a squint upon her newest acquisition. “What did ye say that bloke’s name was?”
Morrisa jeered after his departing figure. “Gage Thornton! Maybe the meanest man I e’er come ‘cross in me whole bloomin’ life!”
“Well, dearie, if’n ye knows what’s good for ye, ye’d better take his advice,” the procuress warned. “I’ve heard a lot ’bout that there bloke since I come here, an’ ‘tain’t entirely all good. Some say he got vexed with his wife one day an’ threw her off the ship what he’s a-buildin’ near his cabin upriver. An’ from what I hear, there’s a spinster what lives down the road a piece what may’ve seen him do it, but she’s too bloomin’ scared ta open her mouth ’cause o’ what he might do ta her if’n she talks.”
“Ye don’t say now,” Morrisa replied with a complacent grin. “I wonder if’n Sh’maine knows ’bout that.”
“The bloke ain’t very talkative ’bout himself, so’s I hear. Most likely he’ll keep his deeds ta himself, but if’n the rumors be true, ye can bet this Sh’maine ain’t as well off as one might suppose. The bloke might kill her just like he kilt his wife.”
Morrisa smirked. “An’ I could collect me reward without liftin’ a finger.”
Freida looked at her narrowly. “What reward be ye talkin’ ’bout?”
The harlot waved away her question with a backward sweep of a hand. “ ‘Tain’t nothin’. Just somethin’ I was promised by a turnkey when the lot o’ us was leavin’ Newgate an’ bein’ carted off ta the ship. But there ain’t no way o’ knowin’ for sure if what he said be true ‘til I can send back proof the deed be done. An’ I ain’t been able ta do that yet.”
“Do ye mean ye were promised payment ta kill another prisoner?”
Morrisa looked astounded at the woman’s suggestion. “Do I look like I could kill anybody?”
Freida chortled and laid her fleshy arms upon the table as she leaned forward to look directly into Morrisa’s gaze. “From what I hear, dearie, ye came mighty close ta slittin’ a few manly gullets afore yer arrest, but I won’t be havin’ that kind o’ trouble here! I have ways o’ dealin’ with unruly bawds, an’ I swears ta ye, girlie, ye’ve met yer match in me. Anything ye’ve done, I’ve done ye one better, so’s ye’d best heed me warnin’. Do ye ken?”
Morrisa spread her arms in a guise of innocence. “I ain’t meanin’ ta do a bloomin’ thing but what ye tell me, Freida.”
“That’s good!” The madam nodded slowly as she leaned back in her chair. “ ’Cause if’n ye don’t mind yer manners with me, I’ll make ye regret it like ye’ve never done nothin’ before. Ye don’t know what misery is ‘til I gives ye some. An’ I can assure ye, if’n ye vex me long an’ hard enough, ye won’t be walkin’ away from a grave.”
Morrisa felt a shiver go up her spine at the penetrating coldness in Freida’s eyes. For the first time in her life, Morrisa understood exactly what it felt like to be on the nasty end of a turnabout and to have her life threatened by another woman.
Gage entered the goldsmith’s shop and bought a wedding band, having determined the appropriate size by tying a piece of heavy twine around Shemaine’s finger and slipping it off. He considered the elderly proprietor a gentleman of principles and felt no need to urge him to hold his tongue, for the man would be as closemouthed about his customers’ affairs as he was his own. From there, Gage went to the cobbler’s shop and found Mary Margaret waiting for Miles, who had gone to the back of his shop to fetch a pair of shoes which he had repaired for the elder.
“I didn’t think I’d be layin’ me sights ‘pon yer handsome face for at least a fortnight or so after all the ruckus ye caused by bringin’ Shemaine in for the dance,” Mary Margaret warbled. “Ye set the town awhirl, ye did. Pity the poor windbags, they’ve barely stopped chatterin’ long enough ta catch their breath.” Her blue eyes twinkled with pleasure as she drew an honest chuckle from the man. “Ahhh, ‘tis good ta see that life is treatin’ ye well again, Gage Thornton. ‘Tis been nigh ta a year since I heard ye laugh with such mirth.”
“ ‘Tis your fair face, Mary Margaret McGee, that has made my day,” Gage responded with debonair flair.
The woman’s thin shoulders shook with dubious amusement. “Aye, an’ I love all Englishman like yerself, sir,” she quipped. Then she nodded pertly as she accused, “Ta be sure, ye’ve been gifted with the silver tongue o’ the Irish ta tell a lie so beautifully. But tell me, sir, what be ye doin’ here in our fair-ta-middlin’ town?”
“I came for the pair of shoes I had ordered for Shemaine, but if you have a moment or two to spare, madam, I shall have need of your services.”
“My services?” Mary Margaret was momentarily taken aback. “And what assistance would a grand gentleman like yerself be wantin’ from an ol’ lady like meself?”
“Your advice will suffice for now,” Gage answered with a grin.
Mary Margaret looked him over suspiciously as she sought to quell the irrepressible quiver at the corners of her lips. “I thought ye didn’t care for my counsel.”
“I guess that isn’t necessarily true since I’ll be taking it fairly soon. In fact, if you find yourself free two weeks from today, you may come with us to Williamsburg to see the deed done.”
The elder was thoroughly confused. “I’ll accept the invitation, ye handsome rogue, but ta be sure, I have no ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“Then, if you cannot use your imagination, old woman, it may well be a surprise. I’ll have Ramsey Tate fetch you from your cottage Friday two weeks from today, in the morning about six.”
“And what advice would ye be needin’ from this ol’ woman, may I ask?”
“I intend to buy Shemaine cloth for a new gown, and I have no idea what she may require to finish it.”
“Shoes from the cobbler? Cloth for a new gown?” Though Mary Margaret’s thin lips barely curved, her eyes glowed brightly. “What gift will you be wantin’ ta give the girl next, Mr. Thornton?”
Gage stared through the small panes of the window, seeming to ponder her question. “Perhaps a brush and comb of her own, a bit of toilet water and some nice scented soap.”
“For a bondslave, Mr. Thornton?”
Gage pivoted on his heels and looked down at the elder with a puckish gleam in his amber-flecked brown eyes. “For a wife, Mrs. McGee.”
A hoot of glee escaped Mary Margaret before she clapped a hand over her mouth to silence the outburst. Even so, she danced a rather lame jig with the help of her cane, and then, reclaiming some degree of dignity, peered up at him. “I suppose ye’ll be countin’ on me ta keep this news ta meself ere the vows are spoken.”
“Aye, madam. ‘Twill be news for only my closest friends to savor ‘til then.”
Mary Margaret nodded in agreement with his judicious decision. “ ‘Tis wise, o’ course, not ta befuddle Mrs. Pettycomb overmuch. She might squawk or have a seizure from the wonder o’ it. She’s clearly expectin’ Shemaine ta start showin’ her condition ere three months pass . . . but, o’ course, without benefit o’ a weddin’ ring.” She chortled in mirth at the idea of the matron’s astonishment. “Ahh, ‘twould be delightful ta be a wee little mouse in her house when she hears the news. ‘Twill pop her eyes out for sure.”
“You’re ruthless through and through, madam,” Gage accused with a chuckle. “May I never find you in the ranks of my enemies. ‘Twould be my ill fortune, to be sure.”
“Aye, ‘twould,” she concurred cheerily.
Leaning on her cane, Mary Margaret approached the doorway leading to the back of the store and called down the corridor. “Mr. Becker, ye might want ta fetch Shemaine O’Hearn’s shoes whilst ye’re back there. Mr. Thornton is here ta fetch them. An’ would ye mind hurryin’ yerself along? Mr. Thornton an’ I have some important things ta do today.”
At first, two weeks from Friday had seemed so far away that Shemaine had foreseen no difficulty in accomplishing everything she had planned to do before that particular day arrived. She had asked Gage if she could alter one of Victoria’s gowns which she considered especially lovely. Instead, with a boyish grin that Andrew emulated so well, he had presented her with a bolt of fine cloth for a fashionable gown, lace with which to trim it, and enough soft, delicate batiste to make a new chemise and a nightgown. Shemaine was delighted with his gifts but, at the same time, a bit fretful because of them. Her normal chores usually kept her busy for most of the day, and she could not imagine how she’d ever find time to finish all of the garments before her wedding day. Gage soon solved her dilemma by conveying Mary Margaret’s offer of help, which she eagerly accepted. It helped tremendously when Ramsey volunteered to pick up the woman at her cottage for the next two weeks and bring her out with him when he came to work.
Finally the designated Friday arrived, and a heavy barge, outfitted with a large rudder and an odd collection of sails and manned by a crusty old mariner who had given up sea voyages for a quieter life, nudged up against the new loading dock that Gage and his men had built the previous week. The crated furniture was carried on first to avoid damage to the pieces, but driving the team of horses aboard proved difficult, for they were skittish about the craft and even more so about pulling the wagon across the noisy planks that served as a bridge. Gage finally had to get down from the seat and lead them on. The wedding party was the last to go aboard, and did so conveying a small assortment of valises, clothes, and other paraphernalia.
An early morning fog hung over the marshes along the river and seemed to roll up around the barge as it made its way westward. At their approach, egrets, herons, and other birds took flight, while a flock of pigeons winged its way across the skies above grassy sloughs. In other areas oaks, scrub cedar and pine masked the tidal shores.
After the island of Jamestown came in sight, the captain turned the barge into the inlet, and it was here they began to unload. Once the wagon was driven onto dry land, one of the larger crates was hefted into the bed. Gage took three of his men along with him to deliver the breakfront to a wealthy widow while Erich Wernher stayed with the women aboard the river craft. Another three trips saw the rest of the furniture transported to the new owner’s recently finished home in Williamsburg. There, the pieces were painstakingly unpacked, inspected and dispatched with infinite care to a place of residency inside the dwelling.
Before they left, the man surprised Gage by giving him a generous bonus for the excellent quality he had achieved in his designs and in the workmanship. Since his efforts and talent had amounted to at least sixty percent of the total undertaking, Gage considered it only fair that he keep fifty percent of the gift and portion off the rest, dividing forty percent evenly between Ramsey and Sly Tucker and distributing the remaining ten in equal shares to the two apprentices.
After restacking the dismantled crates in the wagon, Gage and his men took their leave and headed back toward the barge. But upon nearing the edge of town, Gage drew the team to a halt beside a fenced garden where an old woman in a cloth bonnet was carefully tilling the soil with a hoe. He jumped down and, sweeping off his hat, approached the fence near the spot where she labored.
“Your pardon, madam, but seeing as this is my wedding day, I wonder if you might allow me to buy a bouquet of flowers for my bride from your beautiful garden.”
The woman flicked a keen gaze over him, thoughtfully sizing him up. “And what has been your delay in coming to the altar, sir? You’re no untried youth, I vow.”
Gage smiled in amusement at her perception. “Nay, madam, I’ve been a widower for the last year now. I have a young son two years of age.”
Her bright eyes glittered with unquenchable humor. “And your bride? Is she a widow, too? Or have you stolen some wee young thing from her mother?”
“A maid of eight and ten, as beautiful as yourself, madam.”
The elder swept a hand toward the gate. “Come into my garden, sir, and I’ll cut you a bouquet myself . . . not for your smooth tongue, I trow, but for your child bride. Aye, I was wed to a widower, too, at a very young age, and I gave birth to five sons and saw them all grown ere my John was taken from me, but to be sure, ‘twas no dreaded weakness or illness that claimed my husband, but a stout tree that fell upon him while he was cutting it down. It took revenge and sent him to the grave.”
“I’m sorry, madam.”
“Don’t be,” the widow urged with a smile. “We had a good life together, my John and I.”
Upon clipping the freshest flowers from her garden, the woman presented them to Gage and graciously bestowed her blessing. “May you and your young bride ride the fickle tides of life with grace and dignity, sir, and may you have plenty of sons and daughters to bring you joy throughout the years to come and, in your doddering old age, a wealth of grandchildren to lighten your hearts with pride at what you’ve reaped. Now go, and may God watch over you both through your marriage and may you grow to love each other more with each passing day.”
Strangely moved by her blessing, Gage thanked her and opened his purse to pay her for the flowers, but the woman waved her hand in denial.
“Nay, sir. The flowers are my wedding gift to you. Give them to your bride and watch her smile. Then urge her to press them in a book. They’ll give you both memories for a lifetime.”
Gage approached the barge by foot after climbing down from the wagon. Shemaine had not seen him whisk the bouquet behind his back, but from the gleam in his eyes, she was wont to believe he was up to some mischief. Facing him as he came toward her across the gangplank, she settled her arms akimbo, subduing her amusement behind a suspicious perusal.
“Ye can bet he’s up ta no good,” Mary Margaret ventured with a warbling chuckle. “He looks like the fox what swallowed the chick.”
“Aye,” Shemaine agreed warmly. “He does, at that.”
Her eyes fed upon his every movement until he halted before her. Then her heart quickened with the thrill of his presence.
“For my bride,” Gage announced, sweeping the flowers from behind his back, and presenting them with a well-executed bow.
“Oh, Gage!” Shemaine cried, gathering them to her breast. “They’re lovely!”
“A gift from an old woman I met along the way. She also sent her blessings for our marriage.”
“A dear soul, to be sure,” she crooned, admiring the colorful blossoms.
Gage was anxious to proceed with the forthcoming events. “Now, my sweet, if you’ll indicate what things you want to take along with you, I’d like to be on our way. I’ve rented a room for an hour at the Wetherburn Tavern so we’ll have a place to ready ourselves before going to the church.”
Shemaine swept a hand toward her valise and her sheet-covered wedding gown, which lay across it. “All I will need is there.”
Gage picked up both their satchels and his clothes as she folded her gown over her free arm. He called to his son, who was watching fish swimming near the barge. “Andrew, will you take Mrs. McGee’s hand and escort her to the wagon?” Gage smiled at the wide grin of pleasure that spread across his son’s face and his eagerness to comply. Gage knew the task would seem like man’s work to the boy. “We’ll follow you.”
Erich stepped alongside his employer. “Is zhere somethin’ I can help vith?”
Gage gave the baggage over willingly and was grateful that he could now lend assistance to his bride. “Allow me, my sweet,” he urged, taking her gown and laying it over his own clothes. After a brief adjustment, he presented his arm. “If you’ll do me the honor, my lady, I’ll attend you to your carriage.”
Giving him a radiant smile, Shemaine looped her arm through his and hugged it close to her bosom. As the others preceded them, they lagged back long enough for Gage to steal a soft kiss from his bride. When he raised his head, she sighed with pleasure and smiled up at him in warm communication as she felt the muscles in his arm tighten against her breast.
“Tonight you’ll be mine, my love,” he breathed in sweet promise.
Williamsburg was a costly gem in comparison to the small hamlet of Newportes Newes. Shemaine decided that fact after Gage took them on a wagon tour of the city. From the Duke of Gloucester Street, she saw a sizeable palace sitting at the far end of carefully maintained grounds that were liberally bedecked with flowers and sculptured shrubs. At least a dozen shops lined the street. An octagonal brick magazine and a guardhouse were located a short distance away. In all, it was a young but beautiful city.
Mary Margaret helped Shemaine dress in the room at the inn. When she emerged, Gage turned eagerly to devour her beauty. His bride was radiant in a pale green polonaise adorned with a white shawl collar that draped her shoulders. Several rows of lace trimmed the edges of the collar and the mid-length sleeves. More of the ruffled lace had been gathered inside the neckline, accentuating her long, graceful neck, and a pert white lace cap, artfully trimmed with green ribbon, covered the upswept knot of fiery hair. A lace handkerchief had been tied about the stems of the flowers, bunching them together, and the resulting bouquet lay over her arm.
Going to her, Gage took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “You’re beautiful, my sweet.”
Ramsey winked at his fellow cabinetmakers and cast an eye toward the clock. “Ye’d better hurry, Gage, or ye’ll be missin’ yer own weddin’.”
Gage tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Never fear, you grizzled ol’ nail-driver. I won’t be letting any snails pass beneath my feet.”
A chorus of chuckles came from his men. More than any others, they had seen the moody depths into which Gage Thornton had sunk after Victoria’s death—and now, in sharp contrast, they witnessed the heights of joy to which he was soaring. The four cabinetmakers settled in to wait once more, but Gage was as good as his word. After bathing away the residue of sweat from his body, he garbed himself in a white shirt and stock, a handsomely tailored dark blue frock coat, and a waistcoat and breeches of a lighter gray hue, all of which he had worn at his first wedding several years prior.
The sight of her groom in gentlemanly apparel made Shemaine recall her mother’s concerns after Maurice proposed. The elder had fretted that her daughter was being lured to the altar by his splendid face. That was not entirely true in this case, Shemaine decided in waggish reflection, for she was just as fascinated by her master’s exceptional physique.
The Bruton Parish Church was just west of the palace grounds. It was there the small wedding party gathered for the ceremony. At one hour past noon, the rector quietly united Gage Harrison Thornton and Shemaine Patrice O’Hearn in holy matrimony. Mary Margaret and the four men took up positions on either side of the couple while Andrew stood close beside his father. Proudly wearing the wedding ring on his thumb, the boy faced the altar in anticipation of that moment when it would be needed. He was pleased that he had been included in the service, and when asked to provide the ring, he held the tiny digit aloft with a toothy grin.
The pronouncement that the couple had been joined into one was sealed with a kiss, and though it was brief and gentle, Gage’s eyes glowed warmly into Shemaine’s, assuring her that it was but a small sampling of the passion that would be forthcoming. Taking her hand, he pulled her arm through his, and together they turned to receive the good wishes of their friends.
“A handsome couple, ye be.” Mary Margaret sniffed, dabbing at the moisture in her eyes.
“Ye’re a lucky man,” Ramsey declared, grinning broadly. “But then, I think ye knew that the first time ye saw her.”
“Aye, I did,” Gage admitted, thinking back on that moment when he had first espied Shemaine sitting on the ship’s hatch cover. He had hardly been able to believe she was real and not some vision he had conjured in his mind, but he distinctly recalled having been startled by the sudden clarity of his thoughts almost as soon as he laid eyes on her.
Andrew was somewhat baffled by all the well-wishing, but his father lifted him up in his arms and presented him to his new mother, hoping to help him understand. “We’ll be a family now, Andy, and you’ll have a mother, just like Malcolm and Duncan do.”
“Sheeaim my mommee?” the boy asked curiously, looking at his parent intently.
“Aye,” Gage replied with a nod. “She’s your mommy now, just like I’m your daddy.”
Andrew waggled his head from side to side and began to chant in childish glee. “Mommee and Daddee! Mommee and Daddee! Mommee and Daddee!”
“I think he likes the sound o’ it,” Mary Margaret surmised with a chuckle.
“Me hungee,” Andrew announced, turning the subject to more important matters.
“You’re always hungry,” Gage teased, playfully tweaking the tiny nose.
“Me hungee,” Shemaine chimed in near her husband’s shoulder.
The bridegroom settled a brief but provocative kiss upon her lips. “Will that do, my sweet?”
Wrapping her arms around her new husband and son, Shemaine rose on tiptoes to bestow an affectionate kiss upon Andrew’s rosy cheek and then pressed a much warmer one upon Gage’s smiling mouth. Even so, she denied that it would be a fair exchange as she gave him a sparkling smile. “As sweet as your kisses are, my dear husband, I must insist that Andrew and I be given something more substantial lest we faint from starvation.”
Gage laughed and raised an arm to attract Ramsey’s attention. “My family demands nourishment. Will you bring our carriage about, my good man?”
“At yer service, m’lord,” his friend replied with a chortle, and sweeping them a bow, he went out to bring the wagon around.
At the Wetherburn Tavern, they enjoyed a hearty repast replete with a liberal amount of toasting and sipping. But as time progressed Gage became increasingly anxious to be home and laughingly bade his guests to return to their conveyance so they could be driven back to the barge ere the day was well spent. It was Gage, the only truly sober one among the men, who finally collected his guests and his family and ushered them back to the craft.
A brief stop was made on the way downriver from Williamsburg to deliver Andrew to the Fields’s cottage. There the boy could play with Malcolm and Duncan to his heart’s content, allowing his father and new mother to enjoy being alone together in the privacy of their home. After hearing of Gage’s plans to marry Shemaine, Hannah had insisted that Andrew stay with her family for several days. His father had willingly acceded. As they were preparing to leave, Hannah smilingly presented the newly espoused couple with a basket of food to enjoy later that evening, knowing the preparation of a meal would likely be considered an intrusion.
“So’s ye won’t be havin’ ta get out o’ bed ta eat, I’m thinkin’,” Ramsey murmured near the bridegroom’s ear after Gage had thanked the woman for her wedding present. Lifting his gaze to the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling, the older man rocked back on his heels. “I’ve also been thinkin’ o’ maybe comin’ ta do some work in the mornin’, just ta catch up with a few things whilst there’s no one in the shop.”
With a roguishly baleful gleam in his eyes, Gage fixed his gaze upon his favorite cabinetmaker and quietly hissed a warning. “If I see any hint of your ugly face anywhere around my place for the next several days, I’ll be doing a little target practice on your ornery hide. If you haven’t caught on, my oafish friend, I plan to have Shemaine entirely to myself for the whole of these few days, and I’d not take it kindly if some simple dolt like yourself took a fancy to come out and visit us. Need I explain myself further?”
Ramsey scrubbed a hand reflectively down his mouth several times, managing to smother a grin as he smoothed his bushy mustache. “I guess I can recognize a threat when I hear it.”
“Then perhaps there’s some hope for you after all, old man,” Gage retorted with a chuckle.
Saying his farewells, Gage gave Andrew a loving hug followed by a kiss. “Be a good boy, Andy, and mind Mrs. Fields,” he entreated. “I’ll come back to get you come Monday morning.”
When Gage turned away to speak with Hannah, Shemaine bent down and enfolded the boy in her embrace, exaggerating a lengthy grunt of pleasure as she did so. “I’ll miss you, Andy.”
Giggling, Andrew responded in kind, and then ran to join his friends, proudly boasting, “Sheeaim my mommee now! My daddee said!”
Grinning, Hannah glanced up at Gage. “I think your son is as happy to have a mother as you are to have a wife.”
“I nearly despaired of finding a woman who could fulfill the requirements of both positions, but Shemaine has proven herself more than capable,” Gage replied with a full measure of pride. As his wife came near, he reached out an arm to pull her close against his side and smiled down into her shining green eyes. “I don’t know how it could be possible that I could be so fortunate, Hannah, but Shemaine is everything I had been yearning for.”
Shemaine reached up a hand and, with the back of her knuckles, gently stroked her bridegroom’s cheek. “Even if the choice were presented to me at this moment, I don’t think I could leave what I’ve come to treasure.”
Marveling at her words, Gage had no name for the soft, strange emotion that he saw in her luminous gaze, except that it was very close to what he had often seen in Victoria’s blue eyes in the blissful hush of sated desires.