He was watching her, as he had been every other time she’d looked back at him. She should be accustomed to it by now, but her nerves were tangling tighter and tighter with every quarter hour.
She almost wanted her father to come in now, though time without him was usually precious.
She and Gil had taken his horse to the pasture where Father’s other mounts grazed, then they’d spent the rest of the afternoonpreparing for their conversation with him. Working through details about when they’d supposedly married and how long they’d been courting before that. They both agreed he shouldn’t give her father his real surname. Father knowing the connection between Gil and Sampson could only make the situation harder. Gil had chosen his mother’s surname before she married—Standish.
As they’d talked, Gil asked a few personal questions, too, like whether she liked to read and what books she preferred. Turned out that, like her, he lovedGulliver’s Travels. And they'd shared stories from their pasts so they could answer with some truth should Father ask them questions about each other.
It was hard to fathom Gil’s large family and how close-knit they seemed, evidenced by the warmth in his eyes as he’d spoken of each. The three older brothers had already taken wives and built their own cabins on the family ranch. He’d lost his older sister and both parents, just as she’d lost her mother. Was it easier to lose someone special when you had plenty of people around to share the grief? Maybe that didn’t matter. Jess couldn’t imagine not missing Mama, even all these years later, no matter how many people had mourned with her.
But Gil had been very lucky—or rather, blessed—to grow up surrounded by so many people who loved him. How would that feel? It didn’t seem possible. She had no experience that could help her imagine.
A tiny yearning pressed in her chest as she returned her focus to the stove. Did she dare ask him to take her to his family’s ranch? Did they allow outsiders to live there? Of course not. It was afamilyranch, not a common town.
Jess would have to find her own way. Build a new life using whatever she could get from selling her mother’s jewelry. She’d have to find work quickly, perhaps as a housekeeper or a cook.If she could satisfy her demanding father, she should be able to please any employer willing to pay her.
The whisper of leather on stone outside made her heart lurch, yanking her out of her thoughts. Father was back. She glanced at Gil, then moved toward him.
He rose from his chair and met her partway.
As her father stepped into the room, she inhaled a breath and sent up a silent prayer.Lord, protect us.
The moment Father’s gaze struck Gil, he halted. His gaze narrowed, never leaving the man beside her. “Who’s this?” His voice took on a roughness he used with his men but almost never with her.
She took a small step forward and forced out the words she’d rehearsed. "Father, I have news for you. I hope you'll find it good news." She found Gil's arm beside her, wrapping her fingers around the thick cord of muscle. She’d not expected so much strength, but she used the contact to draw strength of her own. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Gilead Standish."
Her father’s gaze swung to her, his eyes dark. "Husband?"
She fought to keep from shrinking back. “Yes.” Should she volunteer more information? Or wait till he asked?
His gaze shifted back to Gil, and he worked his jaw as though chewing on his words. His face turned even redder than Gil’s had when he’d made the promise not to take advantage.
At least Father was trying to stay calm, though he hated surprises, and he especially hated when his plans were thwarted. Maybe she should have eased him into the idea of this. It wouldn’t have worked though. Confronting him was the only way to convince him she told the truth.
At last, he spoke again, still using that rough voice. "Stop playing games. Who is this man?" He still stared at Gil, his eyes flinging blades, but the words were clearly for her.
She forced herself to speak with a steady tone despite the fear pulsing in her heart. The more calm she showed, the better chance Gil would be too. "I’m being earnest, Father. This is my husband, Gil. We've known each other for several months. When I went to Helena in August, we were married."
She took a slow breath, then let it out just as slowly.
Father wouldn’t attack Gil, would he? His gaze had turned so dark that she couldn’t be certain anymore.
She inched sideways, a little in front of herhusband. "I wasn't sure how you’d react or how best to tell you, so we kept our marriage secret until now.” She gave the look that usually melted her father. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I know you’ll love him. He’s such a good man."
Gilead moved around her and stuck out his hand toward her father. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. McPharland."
But Father didn't take his hand. His gaze never left Gilead’s face, and he made no move to return the greeting or speak any words.
At last, he moved his focus back to her. Was he shaking? When he spoke, his voice was as solid as the stone walls around them. “I’ll have it annulled. Or you can pretend this farce never happened. Wallace need never know.”
Farce.
Did he suspect they were lying? Her pulse galloped impossibly fast. He’d not meant it that way though. Just that it wasn’t acceptable because it wasn’t what he’d planned.
It didn’t benefit him in any way.
But what if Father tried to force her to marry Stuart Wallace against her will? There was no real law in this area to stop him. Only one thing would make him change his mind. He’d have to know Wallace would never take her if he knew the truth.
Which meant she had to tell him the truth—or part of it, anyway.
