Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) (15 page)

The wolf sat in the snow as if preparing to wait. Rhys swiped his brow with the back of his hand and mumbled about strong-headed females and wolves, but he followed her back through the snow. Wee Jacques hopped beside them, happy his humans were smart enough to end the stand-off before they all froze. In a huff of surprise, Gillian was lifted from the ground and found herself in Rhys’ strong arms.

“We’ll never get there with your petite legs trying to plow through snow almost deeper than you are tall.” Gillian would have fought him, but she needed to be close to him and realized he needed to be close to her, too. He didn’t put her down when they entered the walkway, but kept her close, knocking off her hat with his nose as he nibbled her earlobe and whispered things that warmed her from the inside out.

When they reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, he set her on her feet, and Gillian moaned in disappointment. “When will this end, Rhys? It’s nothing but white forever with no horizon.”

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and even through wool gloves, she felt him infuse his calm and peace into her soul. “I don’t know,
ma petite
, but I couldn’t have made it through these hours without you. You have been more than a helpmate; you’ve been my salvation.”

“I’m pleased I could prove myself after my poor showing when we first met. You must have wondered what you were getting.”

He gave a short laugh then ran the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. “I knew what I was getting, and whether you could change a lantern wick or not, Mrs. Chermont, I knew how fortunate I was.”

She held his wrist, keeping him close for just a moment longer. “I love you.”

“Good, then I won’t worry you’ll leave when the snow thaws…if it ever does.”

She met his gaze. “I will never leave you, Rhys. There isn’t a force that could move me from your side.”

He stared into her eyes, and she saw the moment when he truly let it sink in. She wasn’t a temporary helper or bedmate. One horrifying nor’easter wasn’t going to drive her away. A million more wouldn’t turn her against him, either. She was there for all her life, because this was her life.

“I love you, too, Gillian.”

It was all he could say to acknowledge all that passed between them in that look, and she accepted it with her whole heart.

“I’ll check the vents and chimneys. Go get what food and drink you’re determined I have and bring it to the tower, if you would.”

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss before turning for the house. “I’ll bring dry clothes and socks, too, you’re soaked to the bone.”

His deep chuckle rolled down the walkway and lifted her feet into a spry step instead of the dragging weights she’d been carrying.

Gillian found him
in the service room checking the clockworks, fuel tanks, and vent to make sure it was still correct for the direction of the wind so the light remained steady, clear and bright, all things she’d checked before going to retrieve him. “I replaced a chimney.”

“I saw that.”

“You checked all of those not long ago, Rhys, and I checked before going for you.”

He turned. “I know, Gillian, but it never hurts to check again with the kind of storm we’re having. I’m not doubting your capabilities,
mon coeur
, just doing my job.”

He followed her to the small anteroom where they’d shared many meals since the ill-fated picnic that first Christmas. So many that Rhys had moved a small end table and two chairs into the space to keep from having to eat on the floor. She enjoyed their picnics, but found her husband could only take so many.

She handed him the dry clothes, and he dutifully stripped and redressed. “I know you don’t doubt me, Rhys. Sometimes I can be a bit prickly.”

“Like after almost two days with no sleep spent in constant motion and cold?” He tossed her a wink.

She sank into the chair almost wishing she hadn’t. It would be so hard getting back up.

“Yes, during those times.” She handed him the food she’d prepared in haste knowing if she took too long she’d lose him. “Egg sandwich I’m afraid. At least it’s a little warm.”

“It’s perfect.” He took a large bite.

She poured the coffee into their mugs and handed him one. He didn’t sit down, but kept his gaze trained out the window.

“Looks like the wind has decided to have mercy on us. The flakes are actually falling down.”

A sense of relief traveled from her head to her toes, and she sank deeper into the chair. “Those are sweet words.” She started eating her sandwich the simple meal tasting like a feast.

“Will you please stay inside now, Gillian?”

She scanned his wonderful face. The already deep lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper, and he looked ready to drop.

“Yes, if it will help.”

“It will,
ma petite
. That is how you can help me most, giving me two less souls to worry about.”

“Will you please eat and stay inside as much as possible?”

His mouth lifted on one side in a half smile. “Yes, if it will help.”

“It will. And anytime you go out, you’ll take Wee Jacques. I don’t like you out there alone.”

His shoulders shook, and she imagined he was trying not to laugh at her. She was well aware that, in the past, he’d been alone during many storms. Nevertheless, she didn’t care about the past; he wasn’t alone any longer.

“Yes, wife, I will take the wolf, though he’ll bemoan going out in the cold.”

“And you won’t laugh at your wife, Rhys Chermont. It’s inconsiderate when my concern is only for your sorry hide.”

When their gazes met, all humor was gone from his face. “You’re correct. I won’t take it for granted again. Thank you for logging the times and repairs in the journal, and keeping track of the vessels that have passed the lighthouse.”

“You’re welcome, again, Rhys. Even if it was part ploy to keep me indoors more.”

Setting his mug on the table, he stood guard next to her. His caressed her face and absently combed his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. “Ah, my quick-witted wife, you’ve found me out once more.”

Her head fell back, and she groaned. “You’re purposely trying to lull me to sleep.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t stop. Gillian opened her eyes and saw he continued to watch the waves as he soothed her. “Will you join me in our bed as soon as you’re able?”

He angled his face so she saw the wicked smile exposing white teeth in the neatly trimmed beard. “You can rest assured it will be the very first place I go.”

“Then stop, before I fall asleep in this chair. Your scheme worked.”

She pushed out of the chair and checked the weather for herself. She wanted to make sure the storm was indeed ebbing, and her husband wasn’t telling tales to get his way. Darkness met her gaze, and she yawned. The snow was indeed falling straight to the ground and in lighter flakes, but it was already nighttime. Two days, they’d been at the fight. No wonder Rhys could so easily talk her into going to bed. All the long hours at the factory hadn’t been anything like what she’d just gone through, but all those hours never left her with such a feeling of accomplishment.

“What time is it?”

Rhys pulled the watch she’d given from his pocket. “Five-thirty. Go to bed,
ma petite
.”

She really looked at him. He’d said she’d been amazing and a true helpmate. She knew he meant the fine words with his heart, but she recognized the added stress her presence had caused. In her determination to prove her worth, she’d added weight to Rhys’ shoulders with his concern for her and their unborn child as he worked against the storm.

Gillian rose to the balls of her feet, and Rhys met her in a kiss. “Goodnight then, and I promise I will sleep.”

“Thank you, Gillian, for that and for finally getting it through my thick skull that nothing will take you from me. I thought I understood it, but now I finally do.”

She cupped the back of his head and held his forehead to hers. “I think we both understand a bit more about the other. Please be safe, love.” She said a quick prayer and then trudged down the stairs, the energy seeping from her with each step. Another trial over, and still, it didn’t destroy them, but drew them closer together.

Walking through the house, Gillian stopped to stoke the fire in the sitting room. She added another log and stood. Stretching, she let her gaze wander the room. She allowed her mind to think on Mrs. Nulton one last time. This was indeed going to be a life with trials, but it would be a full life, filled with love and smiles and laughter, and even a few tears as she and Rhys weathered every test. How strange; Gillian had fled from a life empty except for the pocketbooks. Miriam had fled from a life of abundant love to an empty existence as she roamed a massive stone house in Bath, hollowed and alone. What cost the silks and satins she wore? With a shrug, Gillian dismissed the name Nulton and all to do with it forever.

She stripped off the slicker and hung it by the fire, then slipped off her Wellies and put them there, as well. The sofa appeared much more inviting than the stairs to an empty bed without Rhys. She curled up on the sofa and rested her head on her hands, inhaling the scents around her. Balsam, the spicy scent of the soap Rhys used, and her own lavender soap along with the linseed oil used on the furniture, and even wet wolf, all combined into the perfect blend of shelter, protection and home.

Home, she’d made it at last.

‡

R
hys stared down
at his wife curled on the sofa fast asleep. The last time he’d found her sleeping here was the afternoon after the nor’easter. He’d carried her to their bed with every intention of making love to her. Instead, they wrapped around each other and slept like Van Winkle was their last name.

He crouched beside her and ran the back of just his forefinger over curve of her cheek. They’d made up for lost time in each other’s embrace in the days and weeks that followed.

“Gillian,
ma petite
, Father McDonald and the others will be here soon.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes. He smiled when she took his hand and opened it so his palm covered her cheek, and she nestled into his rough hand. “Tell them to go away, I’m dreaming of a handsome lighthouse keeper.”

“Should I be jealous?”

Her cheek brushed against his palm as her mouth turned up in a smile. “You should. He’s very beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

Her eyes opened when she laughed and cupped his face between her hands. “Exceedingly so. Just as the granite cliffs around our home are beautiful in their strength and ruggedness.”

Before he could act, Gillian pressed her lips to his, and Rhys accepted her kiss then took control and kissed his wife thoroughly. “You please me, Gillian Chermont.”

She pressed her forehead to his, her hands resting on his cheeks. “You please me, too, Rhys Chermont.”

Rhys stayed put and just breathed her in, absorbing the warmth of having her near. “Has the child settled?” Concern drove him to break the moment.

“Yes, I’m thankful he rejects haddock and not Alice’s blueberry jam.”

He pulled her to him until she joined him on the floor, both kneeling before the other. He laughed and dropped a kiss to her nose then rested a hand over her belly. There was just a slight curve where their child rested, but the babe was making Gillian suffer with sickness when she ate certain things, or even just rising from bed. He’d talked to the baby many times about treating his mother well. He’d have to be more strict.

The lace curtains lifted, and they were caressed by a cool, May breeze. “Do you regret having a child so soon?” she asked, smoothing her hands over his chest.

“No. I’m blessed to have the wife I love give me a child to love as well. Do you?”

“No. I wanted your child from that very first night. It seemed right for us.”

“What? To act in haste and do in months what takes others years?”

“Yes.”

Rhys stood bringing his wife with him. “We shouldn’t be caught in that position by the priest.”

Gillian lowered an eyelid in a wink. “We could tell him we’re praying.”

Rhys threw back his head and laughed. He’d laughed more in these months than he had in years. Even during the storm, she’d made him laugh. She’d brought him home.

She smoothed the blue dress she’d finished sewing a few nights ago. The cameo he’d given her on her birthday rested on her skin just above the top of the square neckline. He liked that the pendent rested on her flesh with nothing between it and her.

“I should be in trousers helping with the storm pane.”

“You should definitely not be doing any such thing. Deacon, Charlie and I can manage just fine with Father McDonald directing.”

A frown marred her forehead for a second and then disappeared. One of the storm panes had cracked in the storm, and it had taken this long for a new pane to arrive. The others offered to bring it to the lighthouse and help him install it. He expected young Charlie would be along, as well. He looked forward to his lantern room being whole again, but he didn’t want Gillian anywhere near the astragals balanced on a ladder. He still insisted on being the one outside on the catwalk cleaning the panes.