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

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