Read Online Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) by Kirsten Lynn - Free Book Online
Authors: Kirsten Lynn
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Maine, Western, Military, Short-Story, Religious, Christian, Christmas, holiday, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, winter, Weather, misunderstanding, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Evil Plans, Lighthouse Keeper, No Letters, No Ad, Bass Harbor Head, Helpmate, Christmas Time, Festive Season, Mistletoe
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the fog she’d wrapped him in, dragging him away from everything and closer to her.
Unable to part from Gillian, Rhys brushed kisses over her face and down her neck until the bell rang again. He leaned back from her, breaking their kiss, but not the contact with his wife.
“You are a siren, for sure, Gillian, but I’d die on the rocks a happy man for following your song.”
She dug her fingers in his hair and tugged his head down until their foreheads touched. “I’d never lead you anywhere you’d be harmed. Maybe just someplace where Deacon wasn’t ringing that dang bell.”
He laughed and stayed in her embrace, his hands resting on her hips. “Today, I realized I had two choices. To wallow in bitterness until I forced you to leave in order to preserve your sanity, or to accept things we cannot change, that you are not your father, and you are not Miriam. If we’re going to survive, the choice was clear. And I want you, Gillian, no matter where you’re from or who fathered you. You are mine now, and this is where you belong.”
She hugged his neck, pressing close. “This is my home, Rhys, and you are mine, too. I’ll forever be grateful to the crazy villagers of Bass Harbor for bringing me to you. When I think if I’d waited, another might have answered that ad…”
Rhys squeezed her close. “I wouldn’t have accepted another. There was a line between your heart and mine from the first time I saw you, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Happy New Year!” Deacon’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs, and Rhys gave Gillian another kiss before breaking the embrace as their friend joined them.
“The happiest, old friend.” He shook Deacon’s hand, and Gillian brushed a kiss on the older man’s cheek, her gaze never leaving his. He’d continue to work on the edges of bitterness that threatened the new life he’d found. Gillian was a gem worth any cost to keep.
“If the weather turns fair again, you want me to man the light so you can take Gillian to the village?”
Rhys frowned as he replaced the lamp chimney. Gillian had given up and retired shortly after midnight. He wished he could join her in their soft bed and finish what he’d started in the tower, but the snow turned heavy, and visibility was down to three miles, if that.
“Why would we go to the village so soon?”
“Rhys, the lass’s boots aren’t fit for what January and February are planning to bring. And you’d know more’n me, but I think the dress Ida gave her is the only one fit for winter. If you want to keep her past March, I suggest you get her some new clothes.”
It chaffed that it took Deacon to notice Gillian’s lack of clothing. He’d been so wrapped up in having a wife who didn’t constantly nag about no money for the latest fashion, or a closet full of silks and satins, he missed Gillian’s lack of woolens and flannels.
“I’d appreciate that, Deacon. If the weather holds would you be available in two days?”
“I’ll be here if this pea soup fog rolls out.”
They both turned their attention back to the bay. He rubbed his hands together against the chill then stared at them. Gillian’s loving attention warmed more than his hands. She’d acted without thought or motivation for anything but to bring him comfort. Tempted to share his heart, he’d stopped. It was strange to think he could even feel love for a woman he’d known such a short time, but as he’d told her, he’d been tied to her since he spotted her at the Portland station. He smiled, thinking of how big her eyes had grown at the sight of Wee Jacques. Of course, the wolf was about twice her size.
“She’s a fine woman.”
Rhys held onto his smile, unashamed his friend knew where his thoughts had sailed. “Yes, she is.”
“I suspect you’ve forgiven us all for sending those letters.”
Rhys frowned. “Don’t push it, old man.”
He couldn’t keep up the pretense of being angry and joined Deacon in a good laugh. When
Unable to part from Gillian, Rhys brushed kisses over her face and down her neck until the bell rang again. He leaned back from her, breaking their kiss, but not the contact with his wife.
“You are a siren, for sure, Gillian, but I’d die on the rocks a happy man for following your song.”
She dug her fingers in his hair and tugged his head down until their foreheads touched. “I’d never lead you anywhere you’d be harmed. Maybe just someplace where Deacon wasn’t ringing that dang bell.”
He laughed and stayed in her embrace, his hands resting on her hips. “Today, I realized I had two choices. To wallow in bitterness until I forced you to leave in order to preserve your sanity, or to accept things we cannot change, that you are not your father, and you are not Miriam. If we’re going to survive, the choice was clear. And I want you, Gillian, no matter where you’re from or who fathered you. You are mine now, and this is where you belong.”
She hugged his neck, pressing close. “This is my home, Rhys, and you are mine, too. I’ll forever be grateful to the crazy villagers of Bass Harbor for bringing me to you. When I think if I’d waited, another might have answered that ad…”
Rhys squeezed her close. “I wouldn’t have accepted another. There was a line between your heart and mine from the first time I saw you, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Happy New Year!” Deacon’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs, and Rhys gave Gillian another kiss before breaking the embrace as their friend joined them.
“The happiest, old friend.” He shook Deacon’s hand, and Gillian brushed a kiss on the older man’s cheek, her gaze never leaving his. He’d continue to work on the edges of bitterness that threatened the new life he’d found. Gillian was a gem worth any cost to keep.
“If the weather turns fair again, you want me to man the light so you can take Gillian to the village?”
Rhys frowned as he replaced the lamp chimney. Gillian had given up and retired shortly after midnight. He wished he could join her in their soft bed and finish what he’d started in the tower, but the snow turned heavy, and visibility was down to three miles, if that.
“Why would we go to the village so soon?”
“Rhys, the lass’s boots aren’t fit for what January and February are planning to bring. And you’d know more’n me, but I think the dress Ida gave her is the only one fit for winter. If you want to keep her past March, I suggest you get her some new clothes.”
It chaffed that it took Deacon to notice Gillian’s lack of clothing. He’d been so wrapped up in having a wife who didn’t constantly nag about no money for the latest fashion, or a closet full of silks and satins, he missed Gillian’s lack of woolens and flannels.
“I’d appreciate that, Deacon. If the weather holds would you be available in two days?”
“I’ll be here if this pea soup fog rolls out.”
They both turned their attention back to the bay. He rubbed his hands together against the chill then stared at them. Gillian’s loving attention warmed more than his hands. She’d acted without thought or motivation for anything but to bring him comfort. Tempted to share his heart, he’d stopped. It was strange to think he could even feel love for a woman he’d known such a short time, but as he’d told her, he’d been tied to her since he spotted her at the Portland station. He smiled, thinking of how big her eyes had grown at the sight of Wee Jacques. Of course, the wolf was about twice her size.
“She’s a fine woman.”
Rhys held onto his smile, unashamed his friend knew where his thoughts had sailed. “Yes, she is.”
“I suspect you’ve forgiven us all for sending those letters.”
Rhys frowned. “Don’t push it, old man.”
He couldn’t keep up the pretense of being angry and joined Deacon in a good laugh. When
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