Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) (13 page)

“I woke this morning thinking it would have been better had I answered another advertisement. Traveled miles from home and left you alone and in peace. But I was so wrong, Rhys. Neither of us would have ever had peace without the other. There would have always been something…someone missing.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. “Never think of a life without me,
mon coeur
, for I could never imagine life without you.”

“All those days of begging you not to let them into our lives, and I almost fell into those same murky waters. Thank you for holding me through the night and letting me rest and heal.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I like holding you as we sleep. It’s letting you go I find hard to do.”

Gillian smoothed her hand over his face and smiled when the whiskers of his beard tickled her palms. He found his wife enjoyed the feel of his beard in many other places, too. Her arms looped around his neck once more. “I hate letting go, too. How long are we allowed to stand here and hold each other?”

“We could go upstairs and really celebrate.”

Her laugh brought back another spark to her eyes, and Rhys saw another piece of his wife’s life and hope restored. “Rhys Chermont, Father McDonald is mere steps away. What if he returned? What if he climbed the stairs and heard…”

Rhys leaned back lifting her from the floor then swung her in a circle. “You please me, Gillian Chermont.”

She framed his face with her hands and pressed her mouth to his. His eyes opened in surprise when she nipped his bottom lip and deepened the kiss when his lips parted. Her mouth was warm and soft, and she gave everything she had, bringing a deep groan from his soul. Her eyes opened, and she held his gaze. The kiss seemed to go on for eternity, but ended too quickly. When she broke the kiss, she nuzzled her nose against his. “You please me, too, Rhys.”

‡

“I
brought sandwiches
and hot coffee. You will take a break and eat some lunch.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Rhys saluted Gillian as she emerged over the side of the sloop and then climbed onto the deck. The wind caught strands of her hair, sending streamers of black silk flying. She’d taken to wearing her hair loose with only the sides held back with decorative combs. It wasn’t done in society, but Rhys discovered his wife did many things not done in society. She walked around barefoot inside the house and kissed him whether they had an audience or not. She had no issue with undressing him, or having him undress her. He smiled. And she did not obey her husband when he told her not to traipse around on the slick granite surrounding their home now that she was with child.

As though reading his thoughts, she stood before him, her head tipped back as she waited for a kiss. Not being a foolish man, Rhys complied. She smiled like he’d just given her the world when he broke the kiss. “You shine brighter than the North Star, Gillian. What has you so happy today?”

“You. Our child. The life you’ve given me here.”

He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “You make it hard for a man to punish you for disregarding orders to stay near the house.”

“As if you were a man who raised his hand to his wife. You bluster like a hurricane, but you would never hurt me.”

Rhys opened his hand, his palm on her cheek. He ran the pad of his thumb along her high cheekbone. He couldn’t imagine laying a hand on her in anger, and cursed the one time his fingers left her face red. “You’ve discovered all my secrets already, wife. What will keep you occupied in the coming years?”

She had the audacity to wag her eyebrows. “I’m sure you can find ways to keep me occupied for a hundred years, husband.” She lifted the pail of food and glass bottle of milk. “But for now, share lunch with me and tell me about our new sloop.”

Taking the pail and bottle from her, he searched for a place where they could sit. “Do you mind sitting on the deck?”

“Not at all. It will be a picnic.” She knelt, and he handed the pail back to her. Like she was preparing a table for wealthy ship investors, Rhys watched her spread out the swath of material she’d used to cover the food and then set out their sandwiches. She set out the jar of Alice’s blueberry jam with biscuits. “I’ll have to ask Alice what she does to her jam. It’s the finest I’ve tasted.”

Rhys joined her sitting on the deck, swept up in Gillian’s enthusiasm for life. “I could tell. The first jar was gone before I could get my spoon in the jar.”

Her eyes narrowed, but her mouth turned in a smile. “I’m feeding our child, as well.”

“Don’t blame our child for your sweet tooth,
ma petite
, remember you were drinking two cups of hot chocolate a night before.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then ran the pad of his thumb over her full bottom lip. He’d never wanted to touch and be touched like he craved it with Gillian. She was a flame that drew him.

“What have you been up to today?”

She cocked her head at the change in subject. “Charlie and I have been washing the lighthouse storm panes and the lens.”

“Gillian…”

“Love, I promise I’ve stayed inside the lighthouse, and Charlie stood on the catwalk and used the ladder. We both wore linen smocks around the lens to keep from scratching it. All precautions were taken for our health and the lens. I wanted to help since you’re fixing up the old sloop.”

With one more swipe of his hand over her cheek he picked up a sandwich. “Thank you. It’s a good day to do it.”

Gillian sat back and picked up one of the chicken sandwiches. “It is beautiful for March. I almost left my coat at the house, but there is a chill on the breeze. Maybe we’ll be lucky and the storms will be over.”

“I suppose my turncoat wolf has been watching over you?”

“Yes, Wee Jacques has been circling the lighthouse. I think he returned to keep Charlie company when he saw I was now under your care.”

Rhys turned his face to the sun and absorbed its warmth. He smiled when he felt Gillian against him. She never remained across the table or in a chair in the sitting room if he chose the sofa. Give her five minutes and she’d be by his side.

“Maybe, but I have a feeling we’ll see at least one more. I just hope I can get the sloop ready in case it’s needed.”

“You will. What needs to be done?”

He tipped his head back down and met her gaze, giving a short laugh. “Everything. Sails need repair and new lines. Belowdecks is a mess, but that’s secondary to getting her seaworthy.”

“I can mend the sails, Rhys. The years at the factory should be worth something. It’s something I can do when I sit with you in the tower.”

“Thank you, again, Gillian. That would be a great help.”

She cupped the back of his neck with one hand and raked her nails over his flesh. “And something I could do where you wouldn’t have to worry. The worst that could happen is I prick my finger.”

“You really do know me too well.”

They ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the sunshine and each other’s company. Gillian’s gaze turned to the cove and then out to the open sea. “It’s amazing how something so beautiful can turn so deadly.”

“It is,
ma petite
. The sea can take as quickly as she gives.”

She took his hand and held it to her heart. “She better never try to take you, or she’ll have a fight on her hands.”

“I believe she would.” He squeezed her hand. “Now, enough of that. What shall we name our sloop?”

“What were you thinking? And nothing with my name, please, or small cabbages.”

He chuckled. “No. I was thinking
La Jolie Brune
.”

She frowned. “The pretty brunette?” When she caught on she leaned back with her laughter. “Thank you, Rhys. But won’t your mother be upset?”

“You’re my woman, Gillian; the name of my sloop will honor you.”

Her laughter died on a sharp breath. “I love it.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a fancy name.”

“It’s beautiful. Don’t you dare change it.
La Jolie Brune
will carry you safely wherever you go and in whatever weather.”

Gillian felt the heat of shame touch her cheeks for laughing at Rhys’ beautiful gesture. He didn’t seem to mind and returned to his lunch. The sloop rolled as the waves slapped against her side. It was a motion that lulled Gillian back into the sense of joy she always felt in these moments with Rhys. They finished their sandwiches and the biscuits with jam.

She scanned the rocky coast watching the cormorants among the rocks. The strange birds always reminded her of the prehistoric birds she’d seen in books. Prevalent along the rocky coasts of Maine, from a distance, they appeared black, but if a person got close they were actually colorful with bright blue eyes. Gillian watched the waterfowl for a bit, then her gaze landed for a moment on the rocks where so much pain had occurred. She hadn’t even written her friends about that horrible day or about her wonderful news, either.

“Have you heard from your friends?”

Rhys’ deep timbre rolled over her, lulling her even more than the waves. “No. I’m sure they are all busy. Willow with her new life and Rose and Emma trying to carve out a future. I’ve been remiss, too.”

“Do you think of that day often?”

She angled her head to meet his gaze. “It appears you’ve come to know me just as well as I know you, husband.”

“Seems so. Now answer the question.”

“No, I truly don’t. I think today more than others as I sit here on
La Jolie Brune
, and know you will have her as yare as the
Femme Rouge
, but you shouldn’t have to.”

He folded his legs and rested his arms on his knees. “I was thinking the same thing earlier today, and then I was reminded of all the things I could have lost that night. Suddenly, the loss of the
Femme
didn’t seem as devastating as it could have been.”

“You always put things in perspective in the most maddening way, leaving me no recourse but to agree and look on the bright side.”

“I learned that aggravating trait from you. Just as I’ve learned to have picnics on the decks of lighthouse towers and sloops.” He stood and brushed off his backside. He offered his hand to Gillian, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. She followed his lead, standing and brushing the dust from her backside, and stretching out the kinks from sitting on the hard wood.

Gillian shifted so she stood in front of him. “I’ve learned a few things from you, as well, Rhys Chermont.”

He hitched a brow. “Really?”

She wasn’t a seductress, but she tried to keep the blush from her cheeks as she lowered her eyelids to half-mast. She unbuttoned a few buttons of his flannel shirt. “Yes, I have.”

“Enlighten me.”

She frowned for a second then rose onto the balls of her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed close, raking her fingernails along his hairline until he groaned. “You’ll have to bend to meet me, husband, you’re much too tall.”

With a smile, he complied. If she thought she would control the kiss, she was greatly mistaken. Their mouths met, and Rhys pressed his tongue past her teeth, tasting her thoroughly and encouraging her to do the same. Gillian exhibited all she’d learned from him on the proper way to kiss. He leaned back, but still remained so close his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “Hmmm, you have learned much, Gillian.”

She pressed her mouth to his neck and gave him a little nip. “You’re a masterful teacher.”

He captured her mouth again and gave her a dose of her own medicine, trailing kisses down her neck, stopping in one spot he knew to be extra sensitive. He sucked her sensitive flesh and scraped the skin with his teeth.

Gillian pressed closer, no longer interested in playing a game. She felt the evidence that he was through playing, as well.

She nibbled his earlobe and then pressed her mouth to his ear. “How horrible is the cabin?”

“Pretty bad.” He returned to driving her crazy, and his fingers were working the buttons of her dress.

“I don’t care, Rhys. It’s either there or on this deck.”

With a grunt, he took her hand and led her below. She sighed in relief that the small bunk was cleared and looked clean enough, but honestly, she’d have made love to Rhys in the mud.

He turned and finished removing her dress while Gillian helped rid him of his shirt and undershirt. Smoothing her hands over the hard muscles of his chest and the crisp red hair there, she placed kisses over his torso. Again, Rhys returned the favor, trailing kisses down her neck and along the edge of her camisole then back to her mouth for a kiss that buckled her knees. When he lowered her to the bunk and covered her with his body and protection, Gillian framed his face with her hands and smoothed her palms over his cheeks and beard. He held her gaze. She saw all the years of her life in the warm, blue eyes holding her captive.

“You are my other half, Gillian, in everything.”

“You’re my other half, too, Rhys. I love you.”

He didn’t answer, but chose instead to show her how much he loved and desired her. Gillian was never so pleased to stop talking.

‡