Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) (16 page)

Voices outside ended their discussion, and Rhys took her hand as they met their guests.

Rhys climbed down
the ladder and stood on the catwalk. He swiped his forearm over his forehead. Deacon and Charlie did the same inside the lantern room. Father McDonald nodded at the work they’d done, giving his approval.

Laughter below him caught his attention, and he walked around to where he could watch Gillian walk with Alice. Wee Jacques—the traitor—strutted beside Gillian as though he escorted her. As if she felt Rhys’ eyes on her, she lifted her gaze to him and smiled and waved. He waved back trying to keep the smile from stretching his cheeks.

Gillian came his way and shouted. “Do you need me?”

Like the ships need our lighthouse.
“No, I just heard the sound of angels walking the earth and had to watch.”

He could almost picture the sparks in those dark eyes, and his fingers ached to tuck the loose lock of black silk behind her ear.

“You must have read that Lord Byron I gave you,” Alice shouted up, teasing him.

“
At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet
. Plato seems to inspire me today. But a man doesn’t need a Lord Byron or Plato giving him words, when something so beautiful moves any tongue.”

Alice waved him off, but Gillian rose on tiptoe as though she might reach him. “I think you’ve been up too high for too long, husband, but I’m not complaining.”

“Get on with your walk, Gillian. The boy has work to do, and you’re muddling his mind.” Deacon had joined him on the catwalk. With a wave, she pivoted to join Alice. Rhys waited another moment and was rewarded when she glanced back and waved again. He lifted his hand and faced the two men and one youth giving him sly grins and knowing nods.

“I’m prepared to take whatever you’re biting your tongues not to say.”

“I don’t know about Deacon or Father McDonald, but I, for one, am glad to see all our scheming brought you happiness in the end. It’s all I wanted, to see my friend happy again.”

“Ayuh, I’ll second that, boy. Alice and me were saying during the storm how we worried for ya both, but we could rest some knowing Gillian would be at your side, and you weren’t out here alone, or worse, with someone not helping to carry the load.”

Father McDonald stepped out to the catwalk and gazed down to where Alice and Gillian were stopped right before the path. He nodded toward the women, and his gaze fell on Rhys. “It’s all any of us wanted for you both, Rhys. All we did was shine the light; you and Gillian followed it to the safe harbor. That being said, we have something that needs taking care of this afternoon.”

The same feeling of dread that twisted his stomach at the Christmas Eve dinner settled like a stone there again. Charlie and Deacon suddenly found any place of more interest than what was going on with the priest. “What’s that?”

“Let’s gather Gillian and Alice, and I’ll explain.”

‡

G
illian followed Father
McDonald inside the house, feeling like she had when she followed him Christmas Eve. It had been a lovely afternoon. She’d heard the men’s laughter from the tower, and she and Alice discussed what would need to be done in the coming months to prepare for the babe. When she’d laughed at Alice’s promise to bring more jam, she was pleased it drew Rhys’ attention. His honeyed words still poured over her, sweetening the day even more.

Now, as she entered her home, only Rhys would meet her gaze. She smiled, remembering it was the same the night they married. Even in his own distress, he’d seen to it she was comforted, first meeting her as she entered the hall and then his hand on her back as they met with the priest.

She went to him now, and he hooked her waist with his arm, pulling her close. Father McDonald smiled at both. “We’re not here to tear you apart, children.” He cocked a brow. “I doubt we could.”

Rhys grip tightened as if he didn’t believe the priest. “Then why the sudden silence, and you’re the only one who’ll meet our gaze? This is feeling familiar, and not in a good way.”

Father McDonald ignored Rhys and focused on her. “Gillian, do you remember when you told the Nultons that you signed your marriage license using your legal name of Nulton?”

She swallowed around the boulder in her throat. “Yes.”

“Well, my child, that isn’t true.”

“Gillian, you swore it was the truth.”

Rhys’ words didn’t hold the sharp edge of accusation, but she felt the sting just the same. “It was. I did, Father. I know I didn’t sign Darrow.”

The priest’s mouth twitched in a grin. “No, that is the truth. You did not use Darrow.” He retrieved documents from his satchel. “Miss Miller sent a copy of the contract you signed. You signed Chermont. You signed Chermont two more times on your marriage license. I checked after receiving the paperwork from Miss Miller. Seems you’d already accepted Rhys whether he would have you or not.”

“But I signed the contract in Miss Miller’s office, when I accepted the proposal…” She turned to Rhys. “Before we met.”.”

He hugged her close. “Must be like the Father said, you were mine and you knew it.”

Before her smile could form she felt as though she was going to be ill. “But then we’re not married.” Her hand flew to her belly.

Rhys’ gaze followed her hand. “Gillian,
mon ange
…” He turned to Father McDonald and the others in the room. “What is the plan?”

“You’ll marry today. We have a new license, and witnesses to your union. No one, but those in this room, need ever know. I’ll send Miss Miller the amended contract, and deliver the new license myself.”

The priest rested one hand on her shoulder and one on Rhys’. “But you have been married these past months, Gillian, in the sight of God and in your heart. Both trump the state of Maine, no matter how fair she is.”

Gillian met her
husband at the cliff, and he held out his hand for her. “Do you want to kiss me before these vows, like you did the last time?”

She half gasped, half laughed when he hauled her close and did just that. When he set her back, he gave her a wicked wink. “It brought us good fortune last time.”

“Enough of that foolishness.” Father McDonald cut in before her mind cleared enough to offer a retort. “Let’s get started.”

This time, as Rhys said his vows, he held her gaze and offered her everything up to and including his life with his heart guiding every word. He let go of her hand for a second and reached into his jacket pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around for a few days waiting for the right time. This would be it.”

He took her left hand and slid a silver band on her ring finger. She looked closer and found the ornate pattern of the band. “Rhys.”

“My mother sent it in a package with one of her last letters. It was her mother’s. She told me it belongs where my heart is. It belongs with you,
mon coeur
.”

Gillian roped Rhys’ neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Should we at least finish the vows, daughter?”

She stepped back and felt the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, of course.” She repeated after the priest the simple vows that had been around for hundreds of years, but with her eyes, she offered her own vows. She would love him always. Help him and support him throughout their lives, and even death would not separate them.

“Now you may kiss…for the third time.”

She and Rhys laughed, but met in the middle and sealed every vow with a kiss.

“And now you are truly Gillian Chermont.”

“I’ve been truly yours since the people of Bass Harbor shared you in that first letter.”

Gillian snuggled close
to her husband, twice blessed by Father McDonald and once by the state of Maine, and linked their hands together. She rested her head on his shoulder. He’d just returned from preparing the light for the evening, so they had some time before he had to check the vents again or clean a lamp chimney.

“We’re a little closer on the sofa tonight than we were after our first marriage.”

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t know; I remember we got pretty close.”

“Were you shocked?”

“A bit, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me.”

“You planned from the moment we married that you’d bed me that night didn’t you?”

“Yes. I tried to tell myself I didn’t, but I wasn’t going to sleep on the sofa, and I didn’t see us sharing the bed without something happening.”

There was a long pause before he continued. “Did you plan on letting me?”

“By the time we left the hall, yes. I didn’t see the point in waiting. We were married and that’s a part of marriage. I wanted a true marriage with you. I didn’t plan on finding so much pleasure though.”

He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “You gave as much pleasure as you received if not more.”

The air around them sizzled more than the fire as they both returned their gazes to the flames. “Father McDonald seems to be our guardian angel as well as our priest.”

She pushed up and glared at Rhys, as his deep belly laugh cut into their serious conversation.

“Father McDonald is an old schemer, with God’s consent, who knew exactly what he was doing, wife. Do you think it was a coincidence that the daughter of the man who stole my first wife just happened to answer
my
advertisement?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Who was your priest in Bath?”

“Father O’Shea.”

“And did the Father know where you went when you fled your father’s home?”

“How did you…” She pushed down the rising suspicion. “Yes. He helped me leave.”

“Did you contact the priest after the fire?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or cry. “He counseled me to follow the leading of my friends and inquire in the
Grooms’ Gazette
for a husband.”

“And?”

She punched his arm. “Stop it, Rhys.”

“And?”

“And he suggested I try to find a husband from Maine, or close by.”

He cradled the hand she’d used to punch his arm and brushed a kiss on each knuckle. “Do you know, my sweet wife, Father McDonald goes to Bath when he can to visit his childhood friend, a fellow priest, Father O’Shea?”

“Why would he do that to you?” she whispered.

“What did he do to me?” The sparks of mischief died in his eyes, and the teasing was gone from his voice.

“Have you marry me. He must have known how much it would hurt you when you found out. And Father O’Shea knew Edgar’s villainous tendencies. He put you in danger.”

“
Ma petite
,
mon coeur
, those two wily old priests and their many conspirators in Bass Harbor gave me the greatest gift last Christmas…the greatest gift of my life. They gave me you. With you, my heart returned, my faith was restored, and the man I once was reawakened, but as a better man for being a part of you. They did not hurt me…they resurrected me.”

The world seemed to shrink to just a tiny lighthouse keeper’s house on the granite rocks of Maine and then narrowed further to just the sofa and the two individuals sitting a breath apart. “I never know how to respond when you say such beautiful things, Rhys. I’m not as well read as you, so I don’t have the words. My mind whirls too fast, and my heart races too fast.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Gillian, you show me in a million different things you do. You bring me coffee and food on nights when the sea demands my attention. You accept strangers with open arms just because I call them friend. You work beside me. Even that you trusted me with your body our first night together and many nights since, shows me how you feel much truer than any words that can soon be forgotten.”

She held one of his hands between hers and pressed it to her heart gracing him with a smile. “You did it again.”

He returned her smile. She’d always wanted a man with a quick smile, not just a small twitch of the mouth, but a full smile that lifted his cheeks. Rhys fulfilled that wish, as well as all the others she’d written in that first letter.

She pushed up from the sofa and took both of his hands, giving a tug. He stood and Gillian walked backwards, holding his hands in hers. “I’ll say it again: Father McDonald is our guardian angel, and Father O’Shea is his partner. I’ll have to write the good Father and let him know what a fine husband I have. But I won’t let on we know about the scheme. Let them have a moment of sinful pride at what fine matchmakers they are.”

“And where are you leading me?” His smile grew.

Dropping one of his hands, she turned to lead him upstairs. “I’m taking you to our bed, to once again show you how much I love you.” She angled her head over her shoulder to meet his gaze. “Unless you’d prefer coffee and a sandwich?”

Her laugh echoed as she was swept off her feet and into Rhys’ arms as he took the stairs two at a time. When he set her on her feet in their bedroom, he smoothed the back of his hand over her cheek. So much could be said by a husband and a wife with the slightest action and without words. Even his clear blue eyes held volumes his honeyed tongue could never speak.

She framed his face with her hands, caressing his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs and smoothing the lines nature had carved into her husband’s face. “I am home.”