Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) (9 page)

A young man not long out of boyhood emerged on the docks and helped secure the lines of the
Femme Rouge
. Gillian retrieved the bag with her expensive gown tucked inside. Any future daughter would have to do without the dress. She’d remembered an occasion coming up in few days and needed the money for a special purchase.

“What do you have in the bag?”

“Something I wish to sell, and that’s all you can know today.”

He lifted an eyebrow and clouds formed in his gaze. He wasn’t happy with her answer, but she refused to spoil the surprise.

Rhys took the bag and helped her from the sloop. Gillian took in the sight of Bass Harbor in the daylight. A boathouse stood on the wharf, and she smiled at the familiar sight. Lobster traps sat neatly stacked on the pier close to the building. A net was draped along the side of boathouse with lobster buoys in an array of colors, adding decoration to the drab gray building.

Someone cleared their throat stopping her visual tour at the docks. She met the young man’s leery gaze as he approached them.

“You still angry with my part in this, Rhys?”

Her husband slapped Charlie’s back and almost sent him flying. “Not at all, Charlie. I thank you for it. Did you meet Gillian?”

He pressed his hand on her lower back and brought her forward. Charlie quickly removed his wool hat. His face turned a shade of red that was almost alarming. “Mrs. Chermont. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Charlie. What was your part?”

Charlie dropped his gaze and a mop of brown hair flopped forward. “Ma’am I-I…”

Rhys cuffed his neck. “He interrogated me is what he did, and did a fine job of it, too. Asked what kind of woman a man should look for when thinking of marriage. If I had any preference in how a lady looked? What’s the one thing a lady would say that I might give marriage another chance? A million other questions, he took back to the Father, and they ended up in the letters you received.”

Gillian was shocked at what lengths the people of Bass Harbor gone to making sure the letters she received were as close to what Rhys would write, and also in finding a woman just right for him.

One of the questions Charlie had asked Rhys peaked her interest. “You said there was one thing a woman could say that would make Rhys marry again. What was it I wrote that matched Rhys’ answer?”

Charlie looked to Rhys for help, clearly not wishing to repeat what he’d said, or she’d written. Rhys took mercy on the young man and answered. “You wrote you desired nothing more than a man who could be your closest friend and someone to watch every sunrise and sunset with every day the rest of your life among a few other things.”

“Yes, missus, that’s what you wrote, and that’s when Father McDonald said we’d found the one.”

Gillian ignored Charlie, her gaze locked with Rhys’. “You read my letters.”

He caressed her cheek with the back of one hand. “I thought I should. They were addressed to me, after all.”

“I should have known that’s how you knew about the factory and everything. Thank you for reading them.”

He gave a short nod of dismissal to Charlie and started walking toward the village. “Thank you for writing them.”

She would have kissed Rhys, but while sharing affection in front of Deacon and Alice didn’t bother him, she knew she’d be pushing his boundaries and those of society to kiss her husband in the middle of Bass Harbor. She almost laughed. The village had already witnessed them kissing…twice. Still she drew on what her mother had taught her and settled for squeezing his hand in a hug.

Bass Harbor was still decorated for the holidays, and she suspected the decorations would stay up through Twelfth Night. Their shopping wouldn’t take long in such a small village, and Gillian was relieved. She never understood the thrill many women experienced digging through materials and being fitted into frills and laces.

Wooden shops and a few houses lined a main street painted in shades of red, white, blue or gray cedar shingles with other houses dotting the rocky coast. Sloops used for fishing and lobster added color to the bay. The massive brick Underwood & Co. Cannery rose before them and kept the men of Bass Harbor employed, canning lobster, clams, and sardines. The cannery also gave the wharf its name, and while sardines was big business, Bass Harbor remained one of the largest suppliers of lobster. The white church with a tall steeple where she and Rhys were married just days ago, stood perched on a rise above the rest of the village.

For a small village, Bass Harbor offered many opportunities including the cannery, a shingle-mill on Bass Harbor stream, a prominent shipbuilding business, and of course, the sea and those who needed to guard it. Affluent individuals were turning their attention toward the village, and Gillian hoped it would never fall prey to the wealthy like Bar Harbor with their houses sprawled over most of the coast and only opened in the summer lying vacant the majority of the year. What a waste of an indescribable view no matter what the season.

Rhys opened the door to the first shop and placed his hand on her back, guiding her inside. Gillian felt the strength of his large hand and relaxed into his touch. She shouldn’t be anxious about seeing the people of Bass Harbor again, but she couldn’t keep the butterflies from dancing in her stomach.

“You have nothing to prove,
mon plus cher
; they are no longer a part of us. There is you, and there is me now. It is our marriage, not theirs.”

She straightened her shoulders. He was right; it didn’t matter what any of them thought. If they still considered her a good choice, or would make another really was of no concern. She was Rhys’ choice, his dearest one, and that’s what mattered.

“Let’s start with boots, so your feet can stay dry and warm while we visit other shops.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yes. I think that’s the perfect place to start.”

Rhys watched with
pride as Gillian interacted with the people of Bass Harbor as if she’d been a part of them for years. They managed to get her outfitted in warmer boots along with a pair of thicker boots for the lighthouse and Wellies to keep her from sliding on the slick granite. They’d only been able to find two ready-made wool dresses, but Gillian assured him she could sew her own, and he’d insisted they buy enough material for at least three more.

She’d taken care of her secret business while visiting with Ida, who gave Gillian the red dress outright. He’d tried to tell her Ida meant for her to keep it, but she wouldn’t be swayed until Ida patted her cheek and assured her. She’d entered this store before him, asking him to give her a few moments. He hated to oblige, but agreed at her earnest look.

He leaned his hip against the counter as he waited for her to change back into her clothes after trying on a pair of trousers and a flannel shirt. Wee Jacques stood guard outside the store. He wondered if his wolf was as hungry for dinner as he was.

Gillian emerged from the back of the store, and Mr. Simmons stopped shelving items and turned his attention back to them. “Do they work, Mrs. Chermont?”

She cocked her head to one side and her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Yes, I guess they do, I’ve never owned trousers.”

Rhys pushed off the counter. “We’ll take the trousers and add another shirt.”

“Rhys, I don’t need…”

“Add another shirt, please Simmons. We’ll pick up the parcels on our way to the sloop.”

“They’ll be ready, Rhys. Thanks for stopping in today. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Chermont.”

Rhys nodded and took Gillian’s arm. She smiled at Mr. Simmons. “Please call me Gillian, and thank you for your help.”

Rhys glanced at the old storekeeper. Yes, there went another heart lost to Gillian.

They stepped out just as Father McDonald arrived. “Well, it’s good to see you Gillian…”—he gave Rhys the once-over—“and Rhys. How is everything at the lighthouse?”

Gillian’s cheeks turned a bright red. Rhys gave a low chuckle. The good priest wouldn’t need to hear her confession; he could read it in her eyes. “I owe you an apology, Father, an apology and my thanks.”

The priest held up a hand. “Let’s call it even. It’s not like you had no cause for anger. But I am happy to see you both happy and truly married.”

Gillian’s hand squeezed his. “Thank you, Father.”

“Bless you both.”

“Daughter!”

Rhys hooked his arm around Gillian’s waist and ran the back of his other hand over her pale face. Her flesh was like ice and her eyes dead.

“Please, Rhys. Please don’t let him take me.”

A cold chill settled over his heart, and he looked over her shoulder. At the same time, Father McDonald followed the bellow.

Edgar Nulton and Miriam Nulton sauntered toward them, the smile of vermin spreading across their faces.

“Gillian, daughter. I know that’s you. You owe me an explanation and the money you stole when you fled like a thief in the night.”

Rhys tucked Gillian behind him feeling her body shaking against him. “You are mine, Gillian Chermont, and you will stay with me.” His voice was rough and harsher than he intended, but her tremors eased.

“I owe you nothing.” Her voice was surprisingly strong as she addressed her father. “In fact, I saved you the money you were going to pay that wretched old lecher to take me away.”

Edgar and Miriam stopped in front of them, and Father McDonald slipped between the two couples as though guarding Rhys and Gillian. Rhys could fight his own battles, and taking on Nulton would be an easy task, but he appreciated the gesture from the priest. Joining the Father was Wee Jacques. Rhys didn’t know which of the three was enough of a threat, but Nulton stepped back.

Edgar removed his hat for a second to run his palm over his oiled hair. He tried to clench his jaw, but the effect was lost due to his flopping jowls. “I wasn’t going to pay him, you little fool. He was paying me.”

“No!”

Gillian’s gasp drove Rhys forward. “This is what you wanted, Miriam? An old, flabby man who would sell his daughter?”

How he ever thought Miriam pretty attested to the fact he’d spent too much time alone at the lighthouse. Oh, if a man just looked at her, he’d think her attractive. Her cheekbones were high, nose straight, and her blonde hair and green eyes could be considered striking until a person looked at Gillian. But inside was rotten, black and foul, and anyone who knew her could see it beginning to leak into her outward appearance as well.

“I was the one who suggested it.”

His blood curdled, and Father McDonald mumbled something in Latin. Gillian had no reaction, as if she’d suspected it all along.

Rhys tipped his hat to the filth. “I’ve had enough of this reunion. I’d wish you a nice day, but frankly, I hope you both sink to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

He took Gillian’s arm and turned. “Who are you to my daughter?”

“He’s my husband.”

Edgar and Miriam’s laugh trailed their steps. “How can she be your wife?”

Rhys stopped short. Father McDonald interceded. “I married Rhys and Gillian on Christmas Eve.”

“That sounds mighty fine, Father, but I’m sure Gillian’s been using a false last name, and therefore, she’s not legally married, but she is legally mine.”

Rhys acted in blind rage, and his fist connected with Edgar’s mouth. The older man spit blood, and his dark eyes narrowed. Eyes that in Gillian, held truth, love, trust and beauty; however, in her father, they held nothing but greed and hate.

“You’ll pay for that, and it doesn’t change the fact my daughter hasn’t been your wife for these days, but your whore.”

‡

R
hys lifted his
fist again, but Gillian covered it with both of her hands and lowered his hand. He’d defended her long enough. It was time she defended herself. Her heart tore at the distance in his eyes when his gaze met hers. Yes, there was still love, desire, and admiration, but she could see the reminder of who she was resurrecting the wall.

“We are legally married, Mr. Nulton.” She refused to call him father. She turned to meet him face to face. “Yes, I did use my mother’s maiden name for the years since fleeing your house, but I did not want Rhys to enter into an illegal contract. So, not knowing the law, you will find I signed all documents as Nulton, loath as I was to do it. I did it though, because I was casting you aside forever by legally changing my name to Chermont. You have no hold over us.”

“With that, Mr. and Mrs. Nulton, I think it’s time you leave Bass Harbor.” Father McDonald once again stood between her and Edgar Nulton.

“You can’t run us out of town, priest. Miriam wants a home built here near family.”

Gillian’s blood ran cold. She could never leave Rhys, but she couldn’t live where this vile man resided. Miriam was a good match for him, heartless and evil clean through.

Rhys’ hand curled in a fist under hers. “I’ll see you dead before I see you living here.”

Father McDonald lifted a hand. “Rhys that’s enough. Mr. Nulton, I cannot run you out, but I assure you, you’ll find any stay here most unpleasant. Our restaurants mysteriously close at all hours of the day as do our other shops. Supplies can be in short order and run out at a moment’s notice. And don’t forget, I have our Heavenly Father on my side; don’t make me bring Him into this.”