The return of Andrew resettled the Thorntons into the comfortable niche of a genuine family, and although the boy found it strange that Shemaine was now ensconced in his father’s bedroom, he willingly accepted her as a replacement for the mother whom he barely remembered. Indistinct memories of a loving face and long, pale hair through which he had once twined his fingers as his mother rocked and sang to him occasionally flitted through his child’s mind. Another, more troubling, memory of his father leaving him sobbing in his bed and, after a terrifying space of time, returning to the cabin with the limp, battered form of that beautiful lady in his arms haunted his dreams. Even after so long a time a recurring vision of her lying on the larger bed with a trickle of blood running from the corner of her pale lips could wrench him awake and leave him sobbing and yearning to be reassured that all was well.
His new mother sang to him, too, and when he woke from a nightmare, she would hold and comfort him. She would even take him into bed with her. It was her shoulder upon which his head rested as she sang him a lullaby and his father’s arm under which the two of them snuggled until he drifted to sleep again. Then, some time later, he would rouse long enough to be aware that he was being carried back to his own bed by his father. There he would pass the remainder of the night in peaceful contentment.
In the ensuing days, Andrew’s room became officially separated from his parents’. A wall with a door was built into the large opening between the two rooms, and another door was added on the adjacent wall, allowing direct access from his bedroom to the parlor and the main living area. The division lessened the chances of Andrew being disturbed by the noises and murmuring voices that drifted from the master bedroom, while it allowed his father and new mother more privacy.
The new door did not totally negate the possibility of interruption. That fact was made evident when Andrew awoke during the night with an urgent need to go to the privy and, after swinging wide the door between, ran into the master bedroom. The boy did not understand his father’s mad scramble to roll to the far side of the bed away from Shemaine or their frantic snatching for bedcovers. He heard a muted groan as his father fell back upon his pillow, and he wondered if his stomach was hurting. Their sudden amusement was just as confusing. He only knew his need was great, and as he halted near the bed and peered through the moonlit shadows into Shemaine’s smiling face, he could hardly restrain himself.
From then on, a small chamber pot was placed in Andrew’s room each night before he went to bed. With its initial presence came his father’s encouragement to use it whenever he had a need during the night. A latch was soon affixed to the opposite side of the door which connected the two rooms, alleviating the likelihood of the couple being intruded upon without prior warning or the child being startled by seeing something he shouldn’t.
From Newportes Newes drifted rumors that Roxanne was carrying through with her threats, but as yet, none of the inhabitants had deigned to give the spinster an attentive ear, though she earnestly sought to convince everyone of Gage’s responsibility for Victoria’s death. The majority of the townspeople were of the opinion that after being rejected for a second time by a man whom she had adored for nigh on to ten years, Roxanne had been inflamed by spite rather than by any new discovery or revelation. Then, too, speculations as to the real reason for Victoria Thornton’s death had become rather hackneyed, especially after Mrs. Pettycomb had spent the better part of the last year voicing her own theories, trying to implicate Gage Thornton and blacken his name. But even the hawk-nosed matron did not dare repeat Roxanne’s recent assertions with her usual verve for fear of being reproached by those who had declared that no one in their right mind would believe the spinster.
Though several weeks passed, no official came out from town to make an arrest. Gage cautiously breathed a sigh of relief, as did his wife, and their lives began to take on a new significance. To their amazement visitors from the hamlet began to bring small gifts as token offerings of friendship to Shemaine, as if to declare their acceptance of her and their desire to get acquainted. It was mainly through the persistence of Calley Tate (by way of callers coming to her bedside), Hannah Fields, and Mary Margaret McGee that a change in attitudes was beginning to take place. The three women fervently lauded the praises of their new friend, declaring to everyone who would listen that Shemaine was a genteel lady who had been wrongly convicted.
Life was not altogether idyllic, however, for Shemaine began to suspect that Jacob Potts had recovered from his wound and was back in the area. She could hardly walk outside without sensing that she was being spied upon by someone hiding deep within the wooded copse. Gage searched the forest time and again, but he could find only some freshly broken twigs and recent disturbances of the rotting leaves that covered the forest floor. A deer or some other animal could have done as much. Even so, Shemaine could not escape a feeling of foreboding, and for the sake of caution, she began toting a flintlock with her whenever she went outside. Whether she went to play outside with Andrew, to wash clothes or to do some other chore, she was intent upon being prepared for the worst. If her apprehensions proved to be nothing more than an overly active imagination, then she had lost nothing, but if Potts was really out there somewhere, she wanted to stop him before he harmed one of them. After Gage gave her further instructions on the use of the firearm, her accuracy improved to the degree that she began to feel quite tenacious about using the weapon if circumstances warranted it.
Gage kept up a constant vigil even though his young wife remained unaware of the depth of his concern. Every morning and afternoon, he or one of his workmen would either ride in a wide sweep through the woods or tread more stealthily on foot to see what they could find or even surprise. None of them were experienced trackers, and they only noticed what was apparent, which was very little. If Potts was hiding in the trees, then he was being extremely cautious about it.
After bidding his men to keep a protective eye on his family, Gage ventured into Newportes Newes to question Morrisa again. But the harlot had been ordered to go down to the docks with some of the other strumpets and meet the large ship that was just coming into port. The London Pride would be setting sail soon, now that her cargo holds were full, and the girls were expected to find new customers among the incoming male passengers and crew. If their earnings diminished, Freida had threatened, they would soon find their victuals limited to the bare necessities. Except for a curt retort denying the whereabouts of Potts, Morrisa refused to be delayed unless Gage could promise her a full evening’s entertainment upstairs with her fee paid in advance, for she could not chance arousing the madam’s ire.
“That li’l pipsqueak Myers complained ta Freida ’bout me, an’ now I’m havin’ ta drum up twice as many gents ta placate the shrew. ‘Tain’t ’cause I’m fond o’ bein’ at her beck an’ call, ye understand. I’d just as soon stay here with ye an’ give ye me services free, just ta show ye how much better I can pleasure ye than that li’l bogtrotter ye married. But if’n I cheat Freida out o’ what she thinks is due her, she’s threatenin’ to sell me ta one o’ them mountain men what comes in here. Do ye ken how mean an’ nasty those brutes are? Why, one took a bite o’ me so hard he drew blood. Made me scream, he did!”
“You should be used to such behavior after being with Potts,” Gage remarked without a trace of sympathy.
Morrisa squawked in outrage and swept up a heavy pewter mug from a nearby table. She hauled back an arm to send it flying, but the unperturbed smile on Gage’s lips made her pause in sudden wariness.
“Freida is watching,” he warned with a full measure of satisfaction. The harlot’s rage rapidly dwindled as he raised a hand to direct her attention to the stairs, where the madam stood like a well-fortified fortress. With her pale, flabby arms folded in front of her and her slippered toe tapping an irritated staccato on the step, Freida readily conveyed the fact that Morrisa would forfeit more than a few victuals if she aroused the ire of another customer.
Morrisa carefully lowered the tankard to the table as Freida strode down the stairs and came forward. Gage had no wish to hear the stern rebuke that promised to be forthcoming, and he took his leave of the tavern, almost colliding with Mrs. Pettycomb, who was hurrying along the boardwalk in front.
“Well, if it isn’t Gage Thornton!” the matron declared in surprise. She readjusted the wire-rimmed spectacles on her thin, hawkish nose in an effort to see every minute detail as her small, dark eyes swept over him. Any man who wed a convict could well expect recompense in some form or another if he didn’t defer to his wife’s whims, but much to Alma’s disappointment, Gage had no blackened eyes or bruised jaw. Curiously Alma peered through the open door of the tavern and probed the interior until her gaze settled on Morrisa. Her thin eyebrows lifted sharply, and with a smug smile, she returned her attention to the tall man. “Out visiting, Gage?”
The brown eyes chilled to a penetrating coldness at her erroneous conjecture. “Merely taking care of business, Mrs. Pettycomb.”
“Oh, of course.” Alma smirked. “I’m sure that’s what all the men say when they’ve been caught sporting with loose women.”
Gage snorted, irritated by her assumption. “That’s hardly the case, Mrs. Pettycomb, but think what you will!”
Alma pursed her thin lips in complacent haughtiness, but in the very next instant, she had to step hastily aside as Morrisa stormed out of the tavern. The harlot seemed oblivious to the flustered matron as she glowered at the man.
“If’n ye weren’t so caught on that bogtrotter ye married, Gage Thornton, ye’d see how good it could be betwixt the two o’ us. But no! Ye’ve got ta be a proper husband ta M’liedy Sh’maine. Well, I hope ye’ll be satisfied with the bundle o’ brats ye’ ll be gettin’ from her, ’cause that’s all she’ll be givin’ ye. She don’t know anythin’ more’n that! As for me, I’m goin’ ta see what gents’ll be arrivin’ at the docks. Maybe I’ll catch me a looker this time.”
Stalking past him, Morrisa made her way across the thoroughfare as Alma, much agog, stared after her. The matron snapped her mouth closed as Gage turned away.
“Going to meet the ship, too, Gage?” she prodded, unwilling to relent. “It should be of some interest to you, being an English ship, but I’ll warrant this one is far too fine to be carrying a cargo of convicts.”
Glancing back over his shoulder, Gage gave her an enigmatic smile. “I have no reason to go to the docks, madam. As Morrisa has rightly determined, I have all that I want at home, and I can think of absolutely no one who might be aboard the vessel who would be of interest to me. Now, good day to you.”
With that, Gage strode off toward the riverbank, where he had left his canoe. His curt riposte left Mrs. Pettycomb feeling much like an old hen whose feathers had just been singed. Bristling with indignation, she glared after him, yearning to unleash her ire full in his face. But it was safer by far to go behind the man’s back with her little tales and seek her revenge through ignominious means.
After making her own way to the docks, Alma Pettycomb approached the newly arrived vessel and stood nearby, closely perusing the passengers as they disembarked. She noticed Morrisa wandering off on the arm of a fairly young man, but she gave no further heed to the harlot as a tall, gray-haired man of notable appearance was escorted down the gangplank by the captain. The clothes of the older gentleman tastefully attested to his wealth, yet he was quite handsome and needed no costly raiment to attract attention. For a short time he and the sea captain stood conversing on the quay, and Alma Pettycomb found herself greatly intrigued by the respectful esteem exhibited by the captain. Anxious to hear their discussion, she moved within close proximity of the two.
“If you should require assistance in any way, my lord, I’ll be happy to do what I can to expedite your search,” the captain of the vessel offered graciously. “I wish I knew more than what I’ve already told you, but I’m afraid I saw no more of my passenger after he left my ship that day.”
“Hopefully the information you’ve given me is still useful despite the years that have passed since you first dropped anchor in these waters. If providence is with me, then ‘twill be only a matter of time before I find the one I’m seeking.”
The captain beckoned to a sailor who was making his way down the gangplank with a large leather chest on his shoulder. “Judd, you’re to stay with his lordship and assist him with his trunk until he has no further need of you, then you may return to the ship for shore leave.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
The two men parted, and his lordship waited a moment until the tar had joined him, then he turned to make his way toward the hamlet. Immediately he found himself confronting the pinch-faced Mrs. Pettycomb, who had approached so close that she was in danger of being trodden upon.
“I beg your pardon,” the man apologized, and stepped aside to pass around her.
“ ‘Tis your pardon I must beg, sir,” the gossipmonger responded, eager to hold him there until she gained knowledge of the man and his search. “My name is Alma Pettycomb, and I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the captain. I was wondering if I might be of some assistance to you. I know this area well and have a wide knowledge of the people living hereabouts. I understand you’re looking for someone. Perhaps I might know of him.” She waited expectantly, but her question gained no immediate response.
His lordship looked at her cautiously. Perhaps it might have been his imagination, but when he had taken note of her shadow being cast beside his own, it had almost seemed as if the matron had been leaning forward in an effort to hear his conversation with the captain. But then, a busybody was probably the best one to ask, for they usually knew more about everybody’s business than anyone else. “Have you knowledge of a man named Thornton living in the area? He left England almost ten years ago and the ship on which he sailed docked here at Newportes Newes.”
Alma Pettycomb could only wonder why a lord of the realm would be seeking a lowly commoner, especially one as cantankerous as the cabinetmaker. “There’s a Gage Thornton who lives upriver a ways,” she informed the stranger, puffed up by her own consequence. “Would he be the one you’re looking for?”
His lordship smiled suddenly, as if in great relief. “Aye, that’s the one.”
The woman couldn’t resist asking for more information than she was entitled to. “Your pardon again, my lord, but I’m curious to know what Gage Thornton may have done that would cause a gentleman like yourself to pursue him all the way from England. And after so many years have passed.”
His lordship’s eyes chilled suddenly to a cold, amber-brown. “He has done nothing that I know of, madam. Why would you assume that he has?”
“Well, he’s certainly done enough here to make the good citizens of this hamlet fear for their lives,” Alma readily rejoined. “They say he murdered his first wife, yet he walks around as if he owns the world. Now he has taken to wife a convict, and there’s no one who’ll dare say what crimes she committed in England. I warned him the day he bought her that he was doing this town a disservice.”
“Where may I find this Mr. Thornton?”
The curtness of the question failed to discourage Alma, and she hastened to give directions, as well as the names of several men who would be willing to take him upriver for a fee. His lordship politely expressed his gratitude and beckoned for the sailor to follow him, but Alma made the gentleman pause again.
“May I have the pleasure of knowing your lordship’s name?”
The nobleman gave her a sparse smile, somewhat reminiscent of one she had received earlier in the same hour. “Lord William Thornton, Earl of Thornhedge.”
Mrs. Pettycomb’s jaw sagged briefly before she brought a trembling hand slowly upward to cover her gaping mouth. In a stunned daze she asked, “Any relation to Gage Thornton?”
“He is my son, madam.” With that, his lordship moved past the astounded woman and strode toward the river as Judd followed. In a few moments he was on his way upriver and waving farewell to the sailor.
The rap of knuckles on the front door awakened Andrew and Shemaine from an afternoon nap, and though the boy hurriedly wriggled off his father’s bed and ran toward the portal, Shemaine scurried after him in sudden fear. She could not believe Potts would be bold enough to come right up to their cabin, especially after being wounded, but she couldn’t take any chances.
“Don’t open the door, Andrew, until I see who it is,” she bade in an anxious tone.
The boy halted obediently and then waited as she went to the front window and looked out, but the man who stood on the porch was a total stranger to Shemaine, someone she could not remember even catching a glimpse of in Newportes Newes. He had a proud look about him and bore himself with a dignity that was unmistakable.
Joining Andrew at the portal, Shemaine lifted the latch and allowed the child to swing open the door. The man’s attention was first drawn to the boy, and Shemaine could not help but take note of his surprise and the subtle softening of his visage. Then, after a moment, the amber-brown eyes rose to look at her in stony detachment. A gasp of surprise came from her lips, and it was all that Shemaine could do to meet that stoic regard and not retreat, for there was no doubt in her mind that there stood Gage’s father. The resemblance was too close for her to mistake.
“Is Mr. Thornton here?” he asked in a cool tone.
“I’m sure he must be by now,” she answered, somewhat flustered. “One of the men said he went into Newportes Newes earlier, but if you’d like to come inside and wait with the boy, my lord, I’ll run to the cabinet shop and see if he has returned.”
Amazed at her perception, William stepped inside where he could look at her more closely. Noting the delicately refined features and the wedding band on the third finger of her left hand, he arched a brow at her. “You know who I am?”
Shemaine laid her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I believe you’re Andrew’s grandfather . . . and my husband’s father.”
William’s lips tightened slightly as he sought to hide his irritation. The gossipmonger was right! Not only had Gage gotten into some kind of trouble over his first wife, but he had given his name to a convicted felon. Still, the girl was far more observant and obviously a lot smarter than he had expected a common criminal to be.
“Does it disturb you that your son and I are married?” Shemaine asked quietly.
His inquiry was far more blunt. “Are you the convict Mrs. Pettycomb told me about?”
Shemaine lifted her chin in defiance. “Would it matter to you that I was unjustly condemned?”
“It might, if there was a way of proving your innocence, but the colonies are a long way from England, and I would presume there is no one here who can confirm what you say,” William answered crisply. “No father would fancy his son taking a criminal to wife, and I am no different.”
“Fancy it or not, my lord, the deed is done,” she murmured. “And there’ll be no undoing the vows unless you would have your son set me aside with an annulment. I’ll tell you truly, though, ‘tis gone too far for that.”
“My son has already proven he has a mind of his own,” William stated tersely, and then heaved a sigh as he remembered his last altercation with Gage. It had taken several years before the truth had come out, but he had been struck by the loneliness of his loss from the first. “It wouldn’t matter what I may advise, Gage will do what he thinks best, and I’m sure he would be reluctant to give up a young woman as winsome as you despite the crimes you may have committed in the past.”
Aware of the antagonism sprouting between them, Shemaine felt her heart grow cold with dread. This man had set his mind to the fact that she was a felon, and nothing short of proving her integrity would content him. It was the same kind of trap in which she had found herself after being arrested by Ned, the thieftaker. Though she had been innocent of all that little man had claimed, no magistrate had been willing to believe her.
“Will you stay with Andrew while I go out to see if Gage is here?” As his lordship nodded, Shemaine swept her hand to indicate the settee. “You may sit down if you’d like. I won’t be long.”
Andrew balked at the idea of being left with a stranger and let out a shriek of fear when Shemaine started toward the door. He ran after her, and though she sought to console him, the boy clung to her in desperation. William was closely attentive to her soothing words as she caressed the boy’s cheek and took his small hand in his.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she apologized. “Andrew doesn’t care to stay with you right now. After he gets to know you better, he’ll be more willing to make friends.”
“I understand.”
As they left the cabin, William leaned back on the settee and looked around at the interior. Recognizing excellence when he saw it, he was overwhelmed at the high quality of workmanship in every item of furniture his eyes touched upon. After he had been put ashore with his trunk and had enlisted Gillian’s aid in carrying the chest to the porch, he had paused near the building slip to admire the half-finished vessel and to question the old man, Flannery, about his son’s design. The two shipwrights had been eager to show him through the vessel and had been just as quick to laud the praises of their employer. His heart had swelled with pride as he took everything in and finally began to comprehend what Gage had once tried to talk him into building in England. After nearly ten years’ estrangement from his son, looking at what Gage had created was almost as enlightening as finally being able to understand why his son had left the family home and England.
Three years short a day from the time Gage had left, Christine had succumbed to a bout of pneumonia (or a broken heart, as she had raspingly maintained). On her deathbed, she had tearfully confessed to her father that she had been so enamored of Gage that she had sought to entrap him in marriage by claiming he had gotten her with child. She had died a virgin, having sullied her own name, but, according to her, she had deemed her attempt well worth the price, for she had never wanted another man as much as she had wanted Gage Thornton.
After her funeral, her father had beseeched William to forgive his family for bringing about the alienation of his son, but in his long and frustrating search, William had come to realize that it had probably been his own prideful stubbornness that had brought about the rift. He had been so determined to force his son to obey him that he had been unwilling to entertain the possibility that Gage might have been an innocent pawn in the lady’s game.
The back door opened again, and William rose to his feet in anxious haste as Gage strode down the corridor toward the parlor. It was the father rather than the son who quickly traversed the space between them and, through welling tears, gazed upon the younger. It was an older, more mature face the father saw, but with its bronze skin and leanly chiseled features, it was even more handsome than before. In it, William saw a strong duplication of his own, except for his advancing years and the yearning regret that had exacted a harsh toll, leaving deep creases across his brow and a poignant sadness in the lines around his mouth.
“I nearly gave up all hope of finding you,” William managed to choke out through a gathering thickness in his throat. His stoic demeanor began to waver, and he clasped Gage’s shoulders and shook him gently as if in a desperate effort to make him understand how deeply he had been missed. “I’ve searched for you all these many years without success and have sent men to the far reaches of the world in a hopeless quest to find you. It was only through a chance meeting that I happened upon the man who had captained the ship on which you had sailed. My dear son, can you ever forgive me for driving you away from our home?”
Gage was astounded at the emotion visible in his father’s face. He had never thought he would see the elder so vulnerable and humble. It was a side of William Thornton that he had never seen before. His mother had died after his twelfth birthday, and the pain of her loss had seemed to harden his father, turning him into a tough disciplinarian. Now here the elder stood, almost sobbing with joy over their reunion.
The change was so great, Gage felt at odds with himself and a bit cautious about how he should react. He wanted to wrap his arms about his sire and clasp him firmly to his breast in a hearty embrace, but he felt strange and clumsy doing so until his father responded in kind.
“My son! My son!” William wept against his shoulder.
The back door creaked open, and Andrew came running in. He halted abruptly when he saw the stranger still in the parlor. The two men turned to the boy, and Andrew noticed a strange wetness in his father’s eyes.
“Daddee, yu cry?” he asked in amazement.
In some embarrassment, Gage brushed a hand across his face before he lifted his son in his arms and presented him to his grandfather. “Andy, this is my father, my daddy . . . and your grandfather, your grandpa.”
“Gran’pa?” Andrew looked at the elder curiously. Malcolm and Duncan had a grandpa who frequently visited them, but his father had never told him before now that he had one, too.
William held out his arms to take the boy, but Andrew pressed back against his father’s shoulder and shook his head.
“Where’s Mommy?” Gage queried, realizing that Shemaine had not come in with Andrew.
The boy waved his arm, pointing toward the back. “Mommee Sheeaim on porch.”
Gage put his son down and, with gentle firmness, bade him to stay. “Wait here with your grandfather, Andy. I’m just going out to the porch. I’ll be right back.”
Gage stepped out the rear door and glanced down the lane toward the workshop before he realized that Shemaine was huddled in a knot in a chair at the far end of the porch. Her knees were drawn up close beneath her chin and her arms were folded around her legs, holding them to her chest. As he approached, she cast him a shy glance that clearly bespoke of her trepidation. He squatted on his haunches beside her and peered up at her for a long moment, noting the wetness in the silken lashes. Reaching out, he claimed a slender hand and drew the trembling fingers to his lips for a kiss. “Why didn’t you come in with Andrew?”
Shemaine shrugged diffidently and cast her gaze away. “I thought you and your father would need some time to be alone together.”
“Why are you so troubled, then?”
Cautiously Shemaine withdrew from him and entwined her fingers together as she rested both hands upon her knees. “Mrs. Pettycomb told your father I was a convict.”
Gage muttered a curse and silently vowed to wring the scrawny neck of that meddlesome busybody. But more importantly he had to know what his father had said or done to hurt his wife. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No,” she lied, and shook her head, refusing to cause another fissure between Gage and his father, especially so soon after they had been reunited.
Gage was not at all convinced. “He must have said something.”
“Nothing!” Shemaine insisted, her voice faltering.
“You don’t lie very well, Shemaine,” her husband gently chided. “Now tell me, love, what did my father say to you?”
Shemaine remained stoically mute, and Gage knew it was useless to persist. “Come inside,” he urged, rising to his feet. “I want to present you as my wife.”
Shemaine realized the futility of resisting as he reclaimed her hand. Rising from the chair, she brushed at the wetness in her eyes and smoothed the hair at her temples, ignoring the long braid that trailed down her back. Her husband regarded her swift attempts to make herself more presentable and smiled as he slipped his arms about her and pulled her close.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, my sweet,” he breathed as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was gentle and loving, causing Shemaine to realize just how deeply she had come to love him in the time they had been together. How could she live if William Thornton managed to separate them?
Her arms crept around his lean waist in a fierce embrace, and she answered his kiss with all of her heart, soul and mind. Finally Gage lifted his head and gazed down at her with glowing eyes. “We’ll finish this later in bed, but if we delay much longer now, Andrew will come looking for us.”
“We’d better go in, then,” Shemaine murmured. “He doesn’t like to be left with strangers.”
As soon as they opened the back door, Andrew came racing back to the corridor to meet them. His father swung him up in his arms, smoothing away the worried frown on the boy’s brow, and together the three went in to face his lordship.
“Father, this is my new wife, Shemaine,” Gage announced rather stiffly. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders as if to affirm his possession of her, he went on to explain. “Andrew’s mother died in an accident about a year ago and left me a widower. Before Shemaine came here, she was betrothed to the Marquess du Mercer in London. While there, she was seized from her parents’ home and, by devious methods, convicted of thievery and shipped here on the London Pride.”
William remembered seeing the ship when they came into port. He had recognized it as being one among many vessels belonging to their adversary, J. Horace Turnbull. He also knew the Du Mercers and, just before leaving England, had heard some scandal about Maurice’s betrothed fleeing London before a marriage could take place, which some said had positively delighted his grandmother. “Then you and Shemaine haven’t been married very long?”
Gage felt the rigidity of his own smile. “Long enough to have become appreciative of our union.”
William stiffened as he noted the firmness in his son’s tone. Obviously the little hussy had wasted no time in complaining to Gage about his displeasure over their marriage. No wonder she looked so embarrassed now. “So, she told you that I didn’t appreciate you taking a convict to wife, eh?”
Gage’s jaw tensed until the tendons flexed in his cheeks. “Shemaine never said a word about that, Father, but because you’ve never shown such hesitancy before, I thought you might voice your opinion about her.” With each word he uttered, his ire sharpened. “From now on I will insist that when you have anything to say about our marriage that you say it to me instead of Shemaine. I don’t appreciate you upsetting my wife, and I will not stand for it, do you hear!”
Beginning to quake, Andrew hid his face in the bend of his arm as he rested it upon his father’s shoulder. Sensing his son’s distress, Gage laid a consoling hand upon Andrew’s back, knowing he must curb his temper, if only for the child’s sake.
“I’m sorry, Father,” he apologized arduously. “We seem to be at odds even now. And as yet, I’ve not learned to hold my tongue.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I leave,” William replied, his voice strained. He turned and would have made his way to the door, but Shemaine left Gage’s side and hurried to lay a hand upon the elder’s arm.
“Don’t go, my lord, please,” she begged. “I don’t want to be the cause of another breach between the two of you. Stay and have supper with us, and if you would consent to share our home for a while, there’s a small bedroom upstairs where you might have a bit of privacy.” Bravely she brushed trembling fingers over the thin, blue-veined hand as she softly cajoled, “You must stay for Andrew’s sake. You’re the only grandparent he has.”
William looked at her through the tears that had come despite his attempt to force them back. “It has taken me so long to find my son, I hate to leave without getting to know his family better.”
Shemaine’s heart went out to the lonely man and with a gently coaxing smile, she urged, “Then stay, my lord, and be a part of our family.”
William gently patted the back of her hand as she continued to stroke his. “Thank you, Shemaine. I would enjoy that.”
Slipping her arm through his, Shemaine drew him back to Gage. “For Andrew’s sake, there will be no more outbursts,” she pleaded, looking directly at her husband as she took his arm. “You may have nurtured hurts from years long past, my love, but without forgiveness, how can any of us forget the injuries that have been done and release the weight on our hearts?”
Gage recognized her wisdom, but a long moment passed before he could meet his father’s worried gaze and ask, “Would you like to look over the ship I’m building?”
Relief flooded through William. “Aye, and I’m interested in seeing your cabinet shop, too.” He swept his hand about to indicate the interior pieces. “Furnishings like these are only seen in the best houses in England. You ought to be very proud of your accomplishments, Gage.”
Andrew raised his head and looked around at his grandfather, then he peered inquiringly into his father’s face. “Can I come too, Daddee?”
Gage’s lips twisted upward. “You can help me show your grandfather around.”
Andrew wrinkled his nose and copied his father’s grin. “Gran’pa goin’ to help yu build ship, Daddee?”
“He might, if he can learn to take orders like the rest of the men I hire,” Gage teased, causing his father to choke on an intake of air. He clapped the elder on the back to help him regain his breath, but couldn’t resist repeating some of the same requirements his father had once demanded of him. “But you’ll have to start as an apprentice until you’ve proven your worth.”
William had difficulty deciding whether to cough, groan or laugh. “Blast you, Gage, if you’re not going to take your revenge on me yet!”
The younger man chuckled as his tension eased. “Aye, I might.”
In the front bedroom later that evening, Shemaine dragged her nightgown up over her head and tossed it onto the bed before slipping between the sheets and into the waiting arms of her husband. Gage smiled with a mixture of amusement and delight as she cuddled against him.
“Most women don their nightgown before getting into bed, my sweet, but you do just the opposite.”
Shemaine nipped playfully at his chest, drawing a surprised start and a laughing “Ouch!” from him. Then she giggled contentedly. “Most women don’t have a man like you waiting for them in their beds, my love.” She swept a hand over his naked body and cooed in admiration at what she found. “If they did, they wouldn’t waste time garbing themselves in a gown. They’d be waiting in their beds with open arms.”
Gage twisted his head on the pillow, slanting his gaze down upon his wife’s smiling face. “Then why was I the one waiting for you, madam?”
Lifting a thigh across his, Shemaine wiggled closer until her soft curves and tempting crevices were warmly cleaving to his muscular torso. “Because I had some chores to do in the kitchen after my bath. You didn’t want me to go around stark naked with your father in the house, now did you?”
“No, madam. Such sights I reserve for my own pleasure,” Gage breathed, clasping her knee and pulling it higher. His hand slid caressingly along the underside of her thigh, moving toward her buttock. “I refuse to share them with anyone.”
Shemaine’s breath halted blissfully as his hand veered, searching out the softness of her womanhood. “Do you think your father will be able to hear us from upstairs?”
“Hopefully not, but I’m not going to let fear of that intrude into our pleasure, my love. I’ve been waiting anxiously all afternoon to collect on what you promised on the back porch.”
Rising up on his chest, she frowned down at him in confusion. “What did I promise?”
His hand swept upward behind her head and pressed her face near until her lips hovered close above his. “ ‘Twas what your kiss promised, my love, and I’m always eager to reap the fruits of such provocative invitations.”
Her laughing eyes gleamed brightly in the soft candlelight. “You see an invitation in the simplest twitch of my skirt, sir,” she teased. “Indeed, I’m beginning to think you’ve but one thing continually on your mind, and that is basically and unequivocally mating.”
Gage grinned up at her. “Now you know me through and through, madam.”