If ever she’d hoped she was more important to him than money, the truth was as real as the stone beneath her feet now.
Now that he couldn’t marry her or sell her, she was worthless to him.
She slipped into the apartment, doing her best to slow her breathing.
Father and Jedidiah had sounded as if they’d be occupied for a while, so hopefully she and Gil could talk without being overheard.
Now that it’d been a full day since the beating, he was propped up in her bed, his handsome face still mottled with the swelling around his left eye and cheek. Her chest ached every time she looked at him. How much pain must he be in? Especially since he’d refused to take a full dose of laudanum Riggs brought back from town, agreeing to take just enough totake the edge off. He joked about not wanting to sleep all day, but she knew the truth. He needed to be alert, to be ready for the next attack.
Which would come, if Father had his way. And Father always had his way.
Gil’s good eye met hers as she approached. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.
“What’s wrong?” He reached for her hand, as he had so many times in the last day. He seemed to crave the connection, as though her touch brought him comfort.
As his touch did her. Being connected to him made her feel stronger. Like she could face whatever lay before them.
She needed that strength now more than ever.
"Gil, I...I just heard my father talking to Jedidiah." Her voice trembled, so she eased out a breath of tension. "He told Jedidiah to move the sapphires you found, to store in another mountain cave.”
Gil looked like he was about to ask questions, so she hurried with the rest.
“And then..." A knot clogged the words inside her, and she had to fight the burning in her eyes. "He told Jedidiah to kill you. To make it look like an accident."
Gil's fingers tightened around hers, his only reaction to her words. At last, he released a long stream of air, resting his head back against the pillows that propped him. His good eye focused on the stone ceiling. He must be regretting ever meeting her.Deeplyregretting that he’d agreed to pretend to be her husband.
“I’m sorry, Gil. I’m so sorry I got you into this mess. I won't let him hurt you. I promise." Panic welled in her chest at all the ways Jedidiah would try. He preferred direct confrontation, with a few of his bullies alongside to make the numbers as unevenas possible. But he could be conniving. And he took delight in torture.
How could her father stand to have that man around?
Except Father was just like Jedidiah. Maybe Jedidiah had learned his ruthlessness from her father.
It didn’t matter. Gil had to be her focus now. Him and how she could protect him.
His gaze shifted back to her, his expression frank, as if he’d found the answer. "We have to leave, Jess. Now."
Her insides knotted. “You can’t travel. You’re injured.” And even if they did get out, Jedidiah’s men would track them down. “Our only chance of getting free for good is if my father allows it.”
His grip on her hand tightened as his one good eye held her gaze.
If she blocked out the other side, it didn’t hurt so much to look at him. But even with black eyes and distorted features, this was still Gil, the man who’d committed to keep her and her baby safe. Her free hand already rested on the bump at her middle, and she rubbed her thumb over her dress.I’ll protect you, sweet one. I’ll protect you both. Somehow.
So much was at stake. She couldn’t let them make a wrong move.
“I promised I would get you out of here. You and the baby.” He shifted his hand to cover the one she’d rested on her belly. The warmth in his eye, the intimacy, the certainty—they nudged the walls she was trying to keep strong.
His voice held steady. “With God as our help, we’ll get free from this place. Both of us.Allof us.” The baby too.
She sucked in cool air, letting it fill her chest and lift her shoulders. Letting it clear the panic from her body and the fear from her mind. She’d not included God in her worries or franticplans. How could she call herself a Christian and have so little faith?
She placed her other hand over Gil’s, holding all three of them at her belly. “Can we pray? Now?”
The edges of his good eye crinkled. Then he closed it, and his rich voice filled the space around them. “Lord. Thank You for being the Good Father, no matter how much our earthly family fails us.”
Good Father.
Hot tears seared her eyes. She was only now allowing herself to put into words—if only in her mind—how much her father had failed her. To think of God as Father had always been a struggle for her, though Ezekiel called Him that often. It seemed impossible to think of Someone Who loved her, Who planned good things for her—hope and a future—and also think of Him as a Father.
