Gillian: Bride of Maine (American Mail-Order Bride 23) by Kirsten Lynn Page A

going?”
    “To get coffee started for you and then to check the light.”
    “You will not. I’ll help you draw a hot bath for yourself, and after soaking for an hour, you’ll go straight to bed.”
    “But…”
    He leaned forward and Gillian covered his lips with two of her fingers. “We can’t ignore the light, Rhys.”
    “Who’s the lighthouse keeper here?”
    “You.”
    “It’ll keep. After we see to your bath, I’ll check the oil.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Charlie will be here soon, probably followed by Deacon and Alice.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “They’ll have seen the fire and will come to make sure we’re all right. We take care of each other here.”
    “Then I’ll do as you say.”
    “Right. Let’s get your bath, so you can soak before help arrives.”
    Gillian gave a slow nod. She brushed her mouth over his in a soft kiss. “I love you.”
    “I love you, too. Thank you for all you’ve done this night.”
    He cringed at the way it sounded as though he thanked her for killing her own father. She didn’t say any more, but shuffled upstairs. He watched her and frowned as her shoulders rounded, and her steps were heavy as though a great boulder rested on her head and weighed her down. He cursed himself for the hateful words he’d tossed out in rage. He was frustrated and enraged at Nulton for thinking he could burn the sloop and Rhys would hand over Gillian. Nulton could burn the whole of Maine to pile of coals; Rhys wouldn’t let Gillian walk on the same side of the street as the blackguard.
    He shrugged. The man didn’t matter now; he was dead. It wasn’t charitable to just shrug another life away, but he wasn’t feeling charitable at the moment. When he heard Gillian in the kitchen, he removed his feet from the basin. Rhys retrieved the large washtub and set it in front of the fire to keep Gillian and the water as warm as possible since he’d wash up after she finished.
    Gillian brought in a bucket of water from the pump and Rhys went to retrieve another while the water to heat the bath boiled on the iron stove. She didn’t speak once as they worked together filling the tub until it was the right temperature.
    She turned her back to him and he dutifully unbuttoned her dress. “Are your hands and feet warm, Rhys? Tell me the truth.”
    “I’m fine, Gillian, truly. You got me to the house and cared for me quickly and thoroughly.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Are you all right, ma petit e, about your father?”
    “Yes.”
    The hollow void in her once vibrant voice twisted his insides. “Gillian, don’t start hiding things from me now.”
    She stepped from him and continued to undress. “I’m not, I just can’t speak of any of it tonight, Rhys. I feel empty.”
    Rhys wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. “All right, we’ll leave talking for tomorrow and simply warm and fill the dark places in each other tonight.”
    Lifting his hands, she placed a kiss on each palm. He didn’t turn from her as she stripped and sank into the tub. Her eyelids slid closed, and her lips parted in a deep sigh. Wee Jacques flopped by the side of the tub, and she absently stroked the wolf’s head.
    Rhys continued to look at the woman who’d come to be his world in such a short time. If she was only beautiful on the outside, he could dismiss her and walk away to tend the light. The source of Gillian’s beauty came from her heart and soul. It shined through her smile and in the sparks of light in her dark eyes. Tonight the light was dim. He was thankful Charlie and Deacon would be coming to tend the lighthouse. Rhys needed to tend to his wife, so she could shine again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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    S unlight sliced through a gap in the bedroom curtains, and Gillian groaned. It should be cloudy and dreary outside to fit her mood. Rhys had stayed with her through the night. He’d held her tight to him, not demanding she share her