Shannon cautiously ran her hands over the gift. It was soft and pliable. Material, she thought. Cody had bought more than fabric for doll dresses. Eagerly she opened the package and began laughing immediately. Holding up the yellow leather hunting shirt in front of her, Shannon gave it a little shake so the fringe swung back and forth. “This is wonderful! He remembered! And leggings, too!”
“I thought he was quite mad when he told Clara and me, but obviously he knew what he was doing. He had Martha cut down his own garments to suit you. Said he had no use for them on board a ship. The moccasins are new, however.”
Shannon picked up one of the butter-soft slippers and touched it to her cheek. “It was a lovely gesture. How like Cody.”
Brandon chuckled. “A moment ago you were afraid of something biting you.”
“That would have been like Cody, too,” Shannon said primly. She put down the moccasin as a thought struck her. “You won’t object to me wearing them, will you? I mean, they’re not the usual thing. I thought if I had them, I could learn to ride astride. That’s what I was thinking when I mentioned to Cody that I envied his garments.”
Brandon’s eyes danced wickedly. “Riding astride,” he said consideringly. “It does give one pause.”
A flush rose from the bodice of Shannon’s gown until her cheeks pinkened beautifully. “Brandon!”
He shrugged indifferently, his expression holding no remorse. He set Clara off his lap and on her feet. “We’ll speak of Cody’s gift later. Right now I think I hear Martha pounding down the hallway. Our Christmas dinner must be ready.” He stood and held out a hand to Shannon as Clara skipped out of the room, her rag doll under her arm. Bending his head, he whispered in Shannon’s ear. “You have a naughty turn of thought, Mrs. Fleming.”
Shannon tried for a measure of righteous indignation and failed utterly. “I know precisely to what you were referring, Mr. Fleming, and I’ll prove it to you this evening.”
One of Brandon’s brows kicked up. “And I shall look forward to it.”
Chapter 16
Shannon stared in the milliner’s window, giving careful study to the array of bonnets while juggling an armful of packages. She should have let Brandon take her purchases to the wagon before he went to the customs house, but they hadn’t seemed heavy then. She reminded herself she hadn’t had so many things when Brandon had taken his leave. He had been adamant that she buy whatever struck her fancy, and Shannon decided to take him at his word.
She purchased enough material to make Clara two new dresses, bright ribbons for her bonnets, and a pair of red shoes of silk brocade similar to the ones Clara had admired in church on Christmas Day. She also had linen to fashion a shirt for Brandon and silk thread to embroider the cuffs and neckcloth. Another package contained skeins of imported yarn, dyed in bright colors that were difficult to make in colonial homes, and for Martha she had a jar of chocolate sweets from the apothecary. The purchase she was contemplating now was strictly for herself.
A crisp January wind slipped under Shannon’s traveling cape, lifting it and her skirts above her ankles. Before she could adjust the tangle about her legs, she felt the careless wind seize her loosely tied bonnet and carry it away. Instinctively she made a grab for it, losing her packages in the process.
“A bit of difficulty?”
Shannon plucked her bonnet off the cobble walk, glancing up in dismay. The eyes that met her own were brilliant green, heavily lashed, and though clearly amused by her plight, were not unkind. The face they rested in was, quite simply, the most perfect Shannon had ever seen. His features were balanced, finely molded yet undeniably male. Fascinated, Shannon found herself deliberately looking for a fault and decided, in a defensive measure against his overwhelming handsomeness, that his chin was a trifle sharp. She didn’t care for the unsettling feeling in her middle as this stranger returned her regard with undisguised interest. She supposed it was her resemblance to Aurora, but most people in Williamsburg had not stared so openly, respecting Brandon’s imposing presence as he escorted her in and out of the various shops.
Shannon looked away, remembering of a sudden that Brandon was no longer with her. “A bit of difficulty, yes.” She began to gather her purchases.
“Forgive me for staring,” he said, bending to assist her. “Your eyes are so unusual. I’ve never seen the like before.”
Then he didn’t know Aurora. That was a comfort. Shannon had enough confidence now that she could accept the compliment without turning away or even blushing. “Thank you for your help,” she said, standing. “You’re very kind,” She glanced at the bonnets again. “Excuse me, I must be going.” They both moved at the same time in the same direction. “Pardon me.” They moved again, and their motions were repeated.
“Pardon me,” he said, laughter in his eyes.
Shannon felt a bubble of laughter on her own lips. The packages threatened to fall. “Oh dear.”
“Here, let me take something. Where were you going? I’ll escort you.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. Shannon looked around, searching for Brandon in the hope that she would see him leaving the customs house. When she didn’t see him anywhere along the street, Shannon decided there could be no harm in accepting the stranger’s offer.
“Of course you hesitate,” he said agreeably, relieving Shannon of her topmost package. “That’s perfectly understandable since we’ve yet to be properly introduced. I’m Peter Rhoades.”
Shannon smiled ruefully and chided him. “I believe a proper introduction requires a third party, someone who knows both of us.”
He smoothly plucked another package from Shannon’s arms while he glanced around. “That is unlikely in these circumstances since I am not well known here, being but an infrequent visitor to Jamestown.”
It occurred to Shannon that her conversation with Peter Rhoades was taking on the tone of a mild flirtation. She could not dismiss the mischief in his eyes, and though she felt flattered, it was mixed with a certain sense of uneasiness. “I am Shannon Fleming,” she said, and added quickly, “Mrs. Brandon Fleming.” She thought she might laugh at the crushed look he affected. “I’m waiting for my husband, so your assistance, while appreciated, is unnecessary.”
“But I already have some of your things,” he pointed out, undaunted. “And you were looking quite longingly at those bonnets. Is that perhaps where you were going? Into the milliner’s?”
“Well…yes, but—” As soon as the admission was out, she realized her mistake. Peter had turned toward the entrance to the shop, and Shannon, perforce, had to follow since he was carrying some of her belongings. Once they were inside, Shannon hoped he would place her things on the shopkeeper’s worktable, but he did nothing of the sort.
Standing behind the array of bonnets, he asked, “Now, which confection caught your eye?”
