The wedding ceremony joining Annie Carver and Dr. Colby Ferris was a joyous occasion. Shemaine had never seen her friend looking so fetching. The pale blue gown, which Colby had hired seamstresses to make for his bride, suited Annie’s coloring well, lending a vibrant glow to her light olive skin and gray eyes. Her lank, brown hair had been braided with blue ribbons and artfully swept on top her head. Miles Becker, a close friend of the doctor, had made her a pair of fashionable slippers and presented them as an early wedding present.
Colby Ferns had gone through a transformation as well. The stubble of whiskers that usually accentuated his gaunt features had been shaved away, and his gray hair had been neatly clipped and tied in a queue with black ribbon. Tailored garments of a somber gray lent a more dignified appearance to his tall, gangling form.
The vows were spoken in low, murmuring voices, and then, after sealing the pledges with a ring and a hesitant kiss, Annie and Colby knelt to receive the blessings of the priest. United in holy matrimony, they rose and turned to be presented to their friends.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Dr. and Mrs. Ferris.”
The guests responded with spirited applause, while chants of “Hear! Hear!” echoed throughout the church. Gage and Shemaine joined Calley and Ramsey in extending their congratulations to the newly wedded pair. With tears of joy filling her eyes, Annie threw her arms around Shemaine and held her close.
“Did ye ever think we could be so happy in this here land, m’liedy?”
“No, Annie,” Shemaine murmured, laughing as she hugged her in return. “I never dared believe such happiness could come from my arrest until Gage bought me and took me home with him. Then my life began anew.” Stepping back, she smiled at her tiny friend. “I wish you and Colby all the happiness in the world, Annie . . . and may you have many beautiful children.”
Casting a timid glance toward Colby, Annie blushed. “Ye may think this strange, m’liedy, seein’s as how I got a babe from it, but I’ve ne’er been with a man but once in me life. Ta be sure, I’m as nervous as an untainted virgin.”
Shemaine smiled. “I’m sure Colby will be gentle with you, Annie . . . just as he was with Calley when he brought her babe into the world. You saw how careful he was. Can you imagine him being brutish with you?”
Annie shook her head. “Nay, m’liedy.”
“Then don’t worry.”
Stepping back to allow others to talk with Annie, Shemaine slipped an arm through her husband’s, and smiled into his warmly glowing eyes. “Annie makes me realize just how fortunate I am.”
“No regrets about leaving England, my sweet?” Gage inquired tenderly, laying a hand over the one she rested upon his sleeve.
Her fiery head tilted forward as she tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Only that I miss my parents very, very much.”
“Perhaps after I sell the ship we can visit them there,” he suggested. “Would you like that?”
Shemaine nodded eagerly, and then fanned herself with a handkerchief, feeling rather faint. “It seems terribly stuffy in here, Gage, don’t you think?”
Gage gently stroked a finger along the side of her face. “Your cheeks are flushed.”
“You do that to me,” she murmured with a smile as her gaze delved into the warmth of his.
“Would you like to go outside and get some fresh air?”
“I can hardly wait.”
It was only later, after blessings and good wishes had been bestowed upon the couple, that Annie again sought out Shemaine in the churchyard. Heretofore Annie had avoided talking in detail about the events that had led to her arrest, for she had deemed the memories far too painful to recall, but she seemed more relaxed about her past now.
“This land an’ some o’ its, people have given me a new beginnin’, m’liedy. Here I be, married at last, an’ with some hope for the future.” Admiring her new gown, the petite woman smoothed her work-roughened hands over the sleeves. “I’d ne’er have been able to own anythin’ this fine in England, m’liedy. We hadn’t a farthin’ ta our name after me ma started ailin’. I begged a man what worked at the apothecary’s shop ta give me the herbs me ma needed ’cause she was really bad off sick. He said he’d do it if’n I’d let him have his way with me. He was so rough I started sobbin’ afore he finished with me. He got real angry an’ slapped me so’s I’d be quiet. Afterwards, he called me a li’l slut for sellin’ me virginity for a handful o’ herbs. Then he booted me out without so much as a sprig, sayin’ as how I didn’t deserve anythin’ ’cause I’d gone an’ disturbed him whilst he was havin’ his fun. I started poundin’ me fist on the door, pleadin’ with him ta give the herbs ta me, but he wouldn’t answer. Later, I found meself carryin’ his babe. I was nearin’ the time for it ta be born when I went back ta plead with him ’cause me ma had gotten so much worse. He laughed at me an’ said the brat was me own concern, not his. He made me so angry, I hit him over the head with a heavy vial an’ stole the herbs. By the time I got back ta me ma, she was already dead. I gave birth ta me son that very same night. I hid out for a time, not knowin’ where ta go, but the babe’s father seen me beggin’ on a street a short time later an’ had me arrested.”
Shemaine hurriedly blinked against the tears that had welled up in her eyes and, slipping her arms around her friend, enfolded her in a long, soothing embrace. “Did you tell Colby what happened to you?”
Annie nodded and sniffed. “I had ta, m’liedy. I couldn’t wed him without layin’ it all bare afore him. He said he loved me just the same an’ we’d make a new beginnin’ for each other. We’d start a family an’ grow ol’ together.”
Shemaine smiled gently. “ ‘Twould seem you’ve been favored with a loving, caring husband, Annie.”
Joining them, Colby slipped an arm around his bride’s shoulders. “Our guests are heading to the tavern, Annie. We’d better go on ahead so we’ll be there to greet them.”
As they left, Shemaine glanced around for Gage, then smiled as she felt a presence stepping up close behind her and blue-clad arms slipping around her.
“Are you looking for me, madam?” her husband whispered, bending near her ear.
Her answer came in a blissful sigh. “Only if you’re the man of my dreams.”
“Tell me, madam, what does the man of your dreams look like?”
“Tall, black-haired, amber-brown eyes . . . far too handsome for me to resist.”
“Do you want to resist him?”
“Nay, never. I yearn for his touch even when I’m with others.”
Gage swept his hands in a leisured caress of her arms. “Will my touch suffice, madam?”
“Only until we can get back to our bed and I can hold the man of my dreams in my arms again.”
“We can leave now, my love,” Gage suggested, intrigued by the idea. “There’s nothing I foresee happening here that would be as enticing as what you speak of.”
“If we were to leave now, your father and Mrs. McGee would still be up,” Shemaine pointed out. “They’d wonder what brought us home so early and, no doubt, would want to talk. We’d face a delay either here or there. Besides, Annie will expect us to stay and share in her happiness.”
Gage graciously yielded the decision to his wife. “As you wish, my lady. Shall we walk to the tavern or should I bring the chaise around?”
“We can walk, I think,” Shemaine replied, and tossed a coquettish smile over her shoulder. “ ‘Tis not often I’m able to stroll along the boardwalk at a leisurely pace and watch all the women stare agog at you.”
“That’s because I’m anxious to keep you a secret from all the men in the hamlet,” Gage countered. “They ogle you and make my temper soar.”
“It needn’t, my love, because my eyes are only for you.”
Gallantly Gage presented an arm and led her toward the tavern. They were intent upon each other and barely noticed Alma Pettycomb approaching until they were almost upon her and the man who walked along beside her. For once the matron seemed far more engrossed in her own affairs than in the affairs of others. She grumbled and twitched in irritation beside her stoic-faced husband, who seemed oblivious to her muttered ranting.
“I told you, Sidney! I want to go to the docks to see that new ship that came into port!” Receiving no answer, she jerked testily upon his coat sleeve. “Did you hear me, Sidney?”
“Who cannot?” he asked curtly.
“I want my supper, woman! And that’s final! I’m tired of you gallivanting all over creation, poking your long nose into everybody’s business. I’ve decided henceforth there’ll be some changes made in the way you conduct yourself, or you will answer to me. Colby Ferris is a friend of mine, and I was greatly shamed that you took it upon yourself to exaggerate a pettish argument he had with that toad, Samuel Myers. Because of you, I could not bring myself to attend his wedding until I’ve made some effort to put my own house in order. I’m a God-fearing man, madam, but I’ll tell you truly there’ll be some mayhem done if you don’t keep your mouth closed from now on. And if you think I’m fooling, then I just might decide to take a thin switch to your arse to show you that I’m serious.”
Alma gasped in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Turning his head slightly, Sidney Pettycomb raised a brow sharply as he stared at her. “I’m a man of my word, madam. You’ll pay the consequences if I hear one more rumor about you viciously defaming another person.”
Nearing the younger couple, Sidney politely tipped his hat as he gave a nod of greeting first to Gage and then to Shemaine. The younger couple were totally amazed by what they had just overheard and became even more hopeful when Sidney spoke to them. “Give my regards to Colby for me, will you, Gage? I’ve sent a gift, but my best wedding present is in the making.”
Subduing the urge to grin, Gage inclined his head briefly, committing himself to carrying the man’s message and conveying his own interpretation of Sidney’s other present, which Gage could only guess would benefit them all.
Musicians had been hired to lend a musical flair to the celebration, and a broad assortment of loyal patients, friends, and acquaintances came for the feasting. Gage was rather astonished that so many people were living in the area, but it was readily apparent by the vast collection of well-wishers that Colby Ferris was not without his supporters and a substantial number of friends. Ramsey and Calley Tate, toting their newborn in a padded basket, had arrived from the church to join in the festivities. Upon spying the Tates and the Thorntons, Colby beckoned the two couples to sit with them, allowing Annie the nurturing comfort of being surrounded by close friends.
The food was plentiful and delicious, but Shemaine found her appetite decreasing as the stagnant air in the tavern grew heavy with a mélange of odors: the foul stench of sweaty men, horse manure tracked in on the wooden floor, various aromas from the food laid out on the long tables, and the overpowering essence of toilet water with which an older matron had liberally doused herself. Whiffs of smoke from the hearth, where another suckling pig was roasting, made it difficult for Shemaine to breathe. Feeling nauseous, she dabbed a freshly scented handkerchief to her clammy cheeks, then pressed it beneath her nose. The delicate barrier sufficed for a few moments until her chair and her arm were haphazardly jostled by a backwoodsman, making her drop the filtering handkerchief in her lap. One whiff of the man as he leaned over her to apologize almost saw her undone, for he reeked of nearly everything she had been trying to avoid smelling. The man stepped away, and in something of a panic, Shemaine leaned forward to beg leave of her companions.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air,” she gasped out. Carefully averting her gaze from their plates, she rose to her feet, but when she turned stiltedly to Gage, he was already standing. She laid a trembling hand upon his chest and pleaded softly, “Stay and finish your meal. I won’t be long.”
He took her hand in his. “Madam, I would hate for the newly arrived sailors and passengers to mistake you for one of the harlots who frequent this place.”
Seeing the wisdom in his concern, Shemaine acquiesced and allowed him to draw her back to the boardwalk. Inhaling several deep breaths of the late afternoon air, she promptly obtained some relief and actually started feeling better as she strolled along beside her husband. As he wandered casually toward the end of town, she looked into the windows of the shops they passed, now and then drawing his attention to something she espied. She enjoyed their leisurely walk together and felt a great measure of pride to be on his arm.
Passengers from the newly docked ship were already beginning to make their way from the wharf. A few of them seemed in a great hurry to reach the main part of the hamlet. A tall, dark-haired, well-garbed gentleman strode far ahead of them all. His long legs had served him well in that respect. Indeed, the silver-tipped cane he carried was obviously more of a swagger stick than an aid for walking. His strides were long and sure, and with his head held at a lofty angle, he glanced about, as if searching for something or someone. When he espied the Thorntons from a distance, he paused suddenly and cocked his head at a contemplative angle, staring intently toward Shemaine. Seeming somewhat confused, he resumed walking, but his pace was slower, a bit more hesitant.
Gage came to the end of the boardwalk and turned, drawing Shemaine’s hand within the bend of his arm. “Are you feeling better, my sweet?”
“Aye.”
“Need more air?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Anything for you, love,” he replied, slanting a grin toward her.
Gage caught the sound of running feet behind him and peered over his shoulder to see the richly garbed gentleman approaching them in haste. There was no mistaking it. The man’s eyes were riveted on Shemaine.
A low growl issued from Gage’s throat at the man’s audacity. “What’s this? A recent arrival already taken with you?”
Her husband’s muttered question drew Shemaine’s gaze back along the boardwalk, allowing the advancing swain to see her profile.
“Shemaine! Shemaine! By heavens, it is you!”
“Maurice?” Recognizing the voice, she turned in confusion, and suddenly her former betrothed was there, throwing aside his cane and sweeping her up in his embrace. Whirling her around in an ecstatic circle, he swung her completely off her feet.
“Shemaine, we thought we’d never find you!” he cried, continuing his whirling dance. “ ‘Twas only by chance your mother spied a woman wearing your boots and bribed her to tell her where she had gotten them!”
“Do you mind?” Gage barked. He had recognized the name and, upon espying the man’s handsome and aristocratic features, considered himself in serious jeopardy of losing his wife’s heart back to her former fiancé.
“Maurice, put me down! For heaven’s sakes, put me down now!” Shemaine gasped, clasping the handkerchief over her mouth as her world reeled crazily awry.
The Marquess complied and stood in some befuddlement as Shemaine stumbled away to the edge of the boardwalk. Taking in large gulps of air, she struggled valiantly to subdue her rising gorge, but the town still seemed to tilt at a sharp slant around her. Her stomach heaved in rebellion, and feebly she extended a hand behind her, bringing Gage swiftly to her side.
Maurice watched in helpless, resentful confusion as the stranger slipped an arm around the narrow waist that he himself had once possessively embraced and laid a hand on the same smooth brow he had lovingly kissed. The casual handling of his betrothed aroused his ire to no small degree, and he almost stepped forward to protest, but the plight of his fiancée finally dawned on him as she tried to subdue a gag behind a lace handkerchief.
Spurred to action, Maurice raced back to the horse trough, wet his handkerchief and returned to offer it to her. Meekly Shemaine nodded her gratitude and wiped her face as she leaned against Gage. Brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face, he laid an arm around her waist as she rested her head against the solid bulwark of his chest.
The intimacy of Gage’s embrace invited a dark-eyed glower from her former beau, but that was not all, by any means.
“What the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” another voice demanded from the thoroughfare, snatching the very words from Maurice’s mouth.
“Papa?” Shemaine lifted her head and glanced around in search of the beloved face. She could not have mistaken the voice, and when her eyes lit on the short, wiry, nattily garbed man standing with arms akimbo and legs splayed in the middle of the road, she could not mistake her own sire. “Papa! Oh, Papa!”
Nearly dancing along the edge of the boardwalk, Shemaine eagerly motioned him forward, and within four long strides Shemus O’Hearn was there, sweeping his daughter within his embrace. Gage’s brows flicked upward in a lopsided angle as he stepped back a respectful distance, allowing the two to have this moment together.
“Just who the bloody hell are you, anyway?” Maurice du Mercer demanded as he stepped before Gage, but he gave the colonial no time to answer as he crisply explained, “When we started making inquiries at Newgate shortly after her boots were found, we were told that Shemaine had shipped out on the London Pride. We had the good fortune of catching sight of the Pride’s sails while we were steering a course here, and we had our captain bring our ship about to intercept the vessel. When we boarded her, Captain Fitch told us that Shemaine had been sold as an indentured servant to a colonial named Gage Thornton here in Newportes Newes. Are you that man?”
“Aye, I’m that man.”
Maurice’s face tightened with vexation. “The bosun on the Pride also informed us that he had heard rumors about town that the colonial who had bought Shemaine had killed his first wife.”
“It was rumored,” Gage acknowledged sharply. “But it could never be proven because I didn’t killed her!”
Maurice tossed his head in jeering disdain. “Why is it that I don’t believe you?”
“Perhaps because you don’t wish to,” Gage retorted.
“You’re right. I don’t wish to. What I really want to do is to lay you out with my fist!”
Gage’s eyes grew noticeably less warm as he returned the Marquess’s glare. “I give you leave to try.”
“Shemaine!” A feminine voice cried, drawing their attention to a small, slender woman with pale blond hair who was hurrying across the thoroughfare toward Shemaine and her father. On either side of her were two women garbed in servants’ attire who were hastening to keep up, one an older, plumpish woman with gray hair, and the other a maid of an age about a score and ten.
“Mama!” Shemaine cried, and was immediately swept to the thoroughfare by her father. Sidestepping to avoid an oncoming wagon and team, she waved to her mother, and then, as soon as the conveyance had passed, the two came together with a cry of glee. With arms wrapped tightly about each other, they stood in the middle of the road, not caring that riders and wagons were passing in front and behind them. The fierce embrace eased to some degree, allowing them to touch and gaze at each other as if they tried to comprehend that they were actually together again.
The older servant was weeping, anxiously awaiting her turn, and when she blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief, it finally dawned on Shemaine that their old cook was there also. Facing the elder, Shemaine hugged her jubilantly. “Oh, Bess! How wonderful it is to see you! All of you!” With a gay laugh, Shemaine stepped away and embraced the younger servant, who had come forward to claim her attention. “Nola! For heaven’s sakes, what are you doing here?”
Her mother readily explained. “I’ve been using Nola’s services in your absence, Shemaine, because my old Sophy began ailing. But Nola will be yours again once we get you back to England.”
Shemaine looked around and, extending her hand toward Gage again, invited him to join her. Her father and Maurice followed closely on his heels, having immediately taken a fierce dislike to the colonial. It was his familiar handling of the woman they held dear as a daughter and fiancée that they couldn’t abide.
“Mama . . . Papa . . . Maurice . . .” Shemaine briefly settled a glance on each before she deliberately slipped an arm through Gage’s, drawing him to her. “This is my husband, Gage Thornton.”
“Your husband!” Maurice barked. “But you were betrothed to me!”
Catching Gage’s shoulder, Shemus spun him about until they stood toe to toe. It didn’t matter that the colonial stood a whole head taller. The elder seized his lapel and glared up at him with all the fury of an outraged father. Even his frizzled red hair, which had paled over the years with whitening strands, seemed to stand on end with his wrath. “What do you mean, marrying my daughter without my consent?”
Shemaine clamped a trembling hand to her throat. “Papa, don’t!”
“I didn’t need your consent,” Gage answered tersely. Gripping the smaller man’s wrist, be dragged the white-knuckled hand away from his coat. “Shemaine was already mine.”
Maurice stepped near the two whose glares dueled like glinting sabers and informed Shemus bluntly, “He’s the one who bought her papers . . . the one Captain Fitch told us about. The wife-murderer, so the bosun says. Obviously this colonial forced Shemaine to marry him!”
“No!” Shemaine pressed her hands to her face in dismay, for the world, which had seemed like heaven only a moment earlier, was now closing in around her again. Facing her mother, she pleaded for help. “He’s not a wife-murderer, Mama! He asked me to marry him, and I accepted! Because I wanted to!”
Camille was as bemused as her husband, but she moved forward and laid a gentle hand upon Shemus’s arm. “The middle of the road is no place for us to conduct inquiries into this matter, my dear. We must seek a private room; perhaps one at an inn will suffice.”
“Your pardon, madam,” Gage offered stiffly. “There’s been an influx of ships docking here recently, and with only one inn in the hamlet, I rather doubt you’ll find space for even one of you there.”
“But where are we to go?” This time it was the mother who turned to the daughter for help. “There are so many of us. And we’ve come so far. What are we to do?”
Shemaine went to her husband and asked in a subdued tone, “Do you suppose Mrs. McGee would consent to putting them up?”
Gage would have gladly consigned them to sleep in the street if not for his wife. “Possibly tomorrow, but what about tonight, Shemaine? ‘Twould be a late hour before we could get back home. We can’t rout our guest out of bed and burden her with the task of returning to the hamlet and opening her home to people who are strangers to her. ‘Twould be too much to expect of the old woman.”
“Is there some way they can stay with us tonight?” Shemaine cajoled softly. “Perhaps you and I can sleep on the floor. . . .”
“We wouldn’t think of putting you out of your own bed,” Camille interjected, though she could hardly approve of their little girl being married to this stranger. She was so young, and he . . . so, so . . . Camille could find no adequate word to describe her feelings toward the man, except that she was sure he was nothing less than a scoundrel who had taken advantage of her daughter.
“I’d like to see the blackguard put out of my daughter’s bed!” Shemus growled.
“I’d like to suggest an annulment,” Maurice offered boldly. “The beast has no doubt imposed himself upon her. Whether Shemaine admits it or not, I’m sure she was under great duress when she accepted.”
Shemus was not so civilized with his recommendations. “I’d like to see the man gelded!”
Shemaine clapped a trembling hand over her mouth and moaned, “I think I’m going to be sick!”
“Good heavens, child!” Camille cried, looking aghast. “Don’t tell me you’re . . . you’re . . .”
“You’re what?” Shemus implored, looking stricken. If his wife was upset, then it was damned certain he would be infuriated by whatever she was thinking.
Camille waved a hand weakly, hoping against hope it wasn’t true. “With child . . .”
Shemaine closed her eyes and shuddered squeamishly as her father let out 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 trough and Bess stepped forward to wave a vial of smelling salts beneath Shemaine’s nose.
“There now, darlin’, 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 Shemaine’s 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, lifted 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 ain’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 it tomorrow.”
Facing Ramsey, Camille bestowed a gracious smile upon him. “If you would allow us to be guests in your home, sir, we’ll be more than grateful for your kindness and hospitality.”
Ramsey gave her a generous display of his best manners as he swept an arm before him in a flamboyant bow, amazing Gage, who cocked a wry brow at his friend. “Yer ladyship, ‘twill be me very good pleasure ta take ye home with me an’ me wife.”
Shemus raised a brow in sharp suspicion, noticing the man hadn’t included him in his statement. “Do ye welcome the rest of us with as much eagerness?”
Ramsey never minced words when he was firmly set on a matter. “As long as ye don’t slander Mr. Thornton’s good name in me home or in me presence, then I’ll welcome the lot of ye. Otherwise, ye can be findin’ yer own lodgin’ for the night.”
Camille waited for her husband’s response. The appeal in her gentle blue eyes told him that she, too, desired a truce for the night. In consideration of her wishes, he reluctantly nodded, yielding to the conditions bluntly stated by Ramsey.
“Blast, you evil woman!”
The outcry greeted Gage and Shemaine as soon as they stepped through their cabin door, causing them to look at each other in sudden consternation. They could only wonder what mayhem William yearned to commit on Mary Margaret McGee.
Gage bolted toward the back corridor, hoping he could mollify his father before anything more disastrous could be said. Shemaine hastened in his wake, for she could only foresee the Irishwoman needing some gentle soothing after suffering such slanderous abuse.
“You deliberately sacrificed your knave to draw out my king,” William continued accusingly with a chortle. “And now I have nothing better to beat your queen. You take the last hand and the kitty.”
Mary Margaret’s jovial laughter drew Gage and Shemaine to a stumbling halt near the stairs. Weak with relief, they came together in a thankful embrace as the conversation continued to drift down from the upper story.
“Would ye care for another game, me lord?” Mary Margaret sweetly inquired.
“What, and let you beat me again?” His light-hearted scoffing laughter denied the possibility. “ ‘Tis certain I would have no manly pride left after such a thrashing!”
“I haven’t a ken why ye’d be thinkin’ that, me lord,” the Irishwoman trilled in charming tones. “There is much ye have ta be proud o’. Why ‘tis sure I’ve ne’er seen an Englishman better lookin’ than yerself, sir . . . that is, except for yer son, but I’d swear he’s the very image o’ ye. And, of course, there be wee Andrew, who’s claimed the best o’ both o’ ye.”
“Aye, he is a handsome boy, isn’t he?” William heartily agreed. “He brings back memories of Gage when he was no older than Andrew.”
Only a brief pause ensued before the wily matchmaker queried amiably, “Where is yer wife now, yer lordship?”
“Oh, Elizabeth died when Gage was twelve. She caught a chill and became feverish. I was not prepared for the suddenness of her death. It made me terribly angry. I found myself ill prepared to nurture my son with the gentleness she had always displayed. I’m afraid I was gruff and demanding.”
“An’ ye ne’er remarried?” A note of surprise had crept into Mary Margaret’s tone.
“Never wanted to. I was too busy most of the time, what with the challenge of building bigger and better ships. Then, too, I found myself at odds with women . . . I suppose in much the same way I was with my son. I’m sure those with whom I came in contact thought I was a crusty old man.”
“I find that hard ta believe, yer lordship,” Mary Margaret murmured warmly. “For ye seem quite pleasin’ ta be with. Indeed, ye have a way ’bout ye that reminds me o’ me own dear, departed husband.”
“How is that, Mrs. McGee?” William asked curiously.
“Me name is Mary Margaret, me lord, an’ I’d be honored if ye were not so formal in addressin’ me.”
“Thank you, Mary Margaret. And if you’re of such a mind, my name is William.”
“Aye, resolute protector.” Mary Margaret sighed thoughtfully.
“I beg your pardon?” His lordship’s tone conveyed his confusion.
“William . . . means ‘resolute protector,’ “ Mary Margaret replied. “The name does ye service. Ye were a resolute protector o’ yer son, were ye not?”
“I suppose I was. In truth, I couldn’t bear to think of losing him after I had searched for him so long.”
“Ye must love him very much.”
“Aye, I do, but it has always been rather hard for me to tell him that.”
“Well, ye needn’t worry yerself ’bout it anymore, William. Ye proved yer love far better with yer actions.”
Downstairs in the corridor, Gage pressed a finger to his smiling lips as he looked down at Shemaine. Taking her hand, he led her stealthily from the corridor and across the parlor. Upon entering their bedroom, he gently closed the door behind them. With the same noiseless gait, Gage stepped into the adjoining bedroom to look in on his son. The angelic face was too irresistible not to kiss, and after straightening, Gage found Shemaine slipping to her knees beside the trundle bed. Stroking the boy’s brow lovingly, she sang a lullaby in a voice that was nearly as soft as the gentle brush of her breath. A smile drifted fleetingly across the small, rosy lips before Andrew heaved a sigh and rolled over to cuddle against his cloth rabbit. Gage offered his hand as Shemaine rose to her feet and together they retreated to the adjoining room. Very quietly the bolt was pushed closed.
“I think we should have a boy so Andrew can have a playmate,” Shemaine suggested with a smile.
Gage stepped to her side and slipped his arms about her, drawing her close against him. As she leaned her head upon his chest, he lowered his chin to her capped coiffure and moved his hand in a gentle caress over her stomach. It seemed as flat as it had always been. “Whether boy or girl, my love, it makes no difference what the coffer holds. I only pray that it may go well with you. My heart would stop if I were to lose you.”
Shemaine laughed as she snuggled against him. “Fear not, my love. My father’s mother whelped six with no difficulty, and she was smaller than I. A very feisty woman, she was.”
“Your father must have gotten it from her,” Gage remarked with a fleeting grin. “But watch the fur fly when William Thornton and Shemus O’Hearn meet toe to toe. I’m sure each could give lessons to the meanest shrew in the area.”
“Aye, but we were also afraid that your father and Mrs. McGee would get into a fray, and look what happened,” Shemaine reminded her husband.
Gage’s thoughts drifted back to what had been said upstairs, and he had to chuckle at his father’s change of attitude toward the Irishwoman. “I gather from Mary Margaret’s gentle inquisition that she has set her sights on making another match.”
Shemaine smiled and rubbed a hand down the front of his waistcoat. “Don’t be too surprised, my love, if it turns out to be a match for Mrs. McGee, as well.”
With a grin Gage plucked the lace cap from his wife’s head and began to loosen the satin tresses. “They do seem to be getting along famously together. Who knows? They might be good for each other.”
A heavy sigh wafted from Shemaine’s lips as she remembered her father’s explosion. “I wish my parents could be as understanding about us.”
“Perhaps, with time, they’ll come to think of me as less of an ogre,” Gage mused aloud.
“My father has a terrible temper, Gage, so please try not to upset him unduly when they come tomorrow,” Shemaine pleaded.
Her husband settled a reassuring kiss upon her brow. “I’ll try to imagine the way I would feel if some blackguard took advantage of one of our daughters. I would probably be just as furious, especially if I had heard stories about the man being a wife-murderer.”
“You must be very careful of Maurice, too,” Shemaine cautioned. “Don’t let him provoke you into doing anything foolish.”
“I rather sensed that the Marquess is willing to reclaim you whatever the cost.” Gage could not find it in himself to fault the man too harshly for desiring such a thing, for he knew he’d be just as adamant about winning her back if the roles were reversed. “But I will take care, my sweet.”
“Maurice may look pampered, but don’t be fooled. He’s as talented with a sword as he is with a pistol. Thus far, he has only wounded his adversaries when they’ve challenged him to duels, but he may prove to be of a different bent with you.”
“No doubt, no doubt,” Gage replied, shrugging out of his frock coat. “If he can kill me, then he would have a clear path to you, and—”
“Or so he may think,” Shemaine interrupted. “But if he kills you, then he’ll win my undying hatred.”
Gage doffed his waistcoat, hung it over a chair with the coat, and then rid himself of his stock and shirt before returning to loosen his wife’s laces. “Mary Margaret will likely be upstairs for a while, talking with my father. With her delay in going to bed, perhaps we may dally in ours for a while just to see what arises.”
“And would you be doubting such an event, Mr. Thornton?” Shemaine asked through the cloth of her gown as her husband lifted it over her head and swept it free from her uplifted arms.
“Not when the woman I’m dallying with is you, my love,” he assured her with a chuckle, stepping away to lay the garment over the trunk.
When he turned back to admire the vision of her garbed in nothing more than a lacy chemise, she threaded her slender fingers through her hair and lifted the curling tresses high above her head. As if reluctant to come too close, she moved cautiously in a half circle around him, commanding his full attention with a sweetly wicked smile and glowing green eyes. “Where I a sorceress, Mr. Thornton, I would keep you a prisoner in my den, where you would serve my pleasures both night and day. You would languish from my incessant demands until you had not strength enough to rouse from your couch, and then I would summon forth strange magic to make you pant in lust for me once more.”
A lopsided grin widened her husband’s lips as he taunted her with a devouring perusal. “I do that now, madam.” Catching an arm around her waist, he drew her between the spread of his legs as he sat back upon the bed. His fingers plucked at the ribbons closing the bodice of her chemise and then moved the slackening cloth aside until the swelling roundness was brazenly displayed. The lustrous orbs thrust outward eagerly, tempting him to taste and devour as they gleamed warmly in the candlelight. He readily complied, evoking a wondrous enchantment as his mouth feasted greedily upon the voluptuous softness.
Shemaine’s voice came in a whisper as she lowered her lips to his dark head. “ ‘Tis only when the handsome prince of my dreams becomes real in my arms that this sorceress yields up all of her devices and incantations and follows submissively wherever he leads. And then nothing can keep me from him.”
Gage lifted his head and searched her smiling eyes. “Nothing, my love?”
“Absolutely nothing, my darling.” Her lips parted as they approached his, and if any doubt remained, she snuffed it out with a long, lingering kiss.