Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3

by Ramona Flightner

  He continued to kiss me as his nimble hands worked on the ties to my corset. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I think I got it tangled.” By this point I was standing next to the bed. He turned me so my back was to him, and he worked on the knot in my laces, all the while placing small butterfly kisses to my nape and back. After a few moments, my corset landed by the side of the bed.

  I turned to face him and sat on the bed. I reached for him, tracing his face, the subtle black stubble on his cheeks, his dark eyebrows. “How I love you, darling,” I whispered as I leaned up to kiss him. He moved to stand between my spread legs, kissing me all the while.

  I giggled as he tried to kiss me, unpin my hair with one hand and unfasten his trousers with the other. I brushed aside his hand, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. He moved from me to shuck his pants, and then he was lifting me, pulling my undergarments from me.

  I scooted farther onto the bed, and he crawled up me, kissing me everywhere. “Gabriel,” I rasped.

  “Never doubt for a moment the joy I find in our marriage,” he whispered. “Those women, they wish they had what we have.”

  CHAPTER 25

  “ARE YOU TELLIN’ ME you don’t want Missy workin’ here no more?” I heard Mr. Pickens’s wheezy demand and the thump of his cane as I crept up the stairs to the depository. I remained in the shadows, watching the tableau as it unfolded. A.J. sat on his customary chair, a fierce scowl marring his expression. Mrs. Vaughan and Mrs. Bouchard stood ramrod straight, their tangerine and violet dresses clashing.

  “We of the Missoula Library Committee feel that her behavior is reprehensible. Our customers should not be forced to associate with the likes of her.” Mrs. Bouchard’s bellow would have been heard by all who passed by on the street below, had the windows been open. Instead they ricocheted around the room, piercing my heart.

  “An’ what misbehavin’ has my Missy done ’cept escape the net of that worthless easterner? Your daughter would do well to take a page from her book.” Another dull thump of his cane.

  “She presented herself to us as a respectable woman when nothing could have been further from the truth.” Mrs. Vaughan had joined the conversation, her body quivering with indignation.

  “And who do you have to take her place? Ain’t no one ’round these parts who loves books like she does and who’s willin’ to work here for the poultry pay.”

  I half smiled as I silently corrected him—paltry pay—in my mind.

  “That is none of your concern, A.J.”

  “Damn straight it is, you meddlesome women. My Bessie helped start this place and now you ’bout to run off the one girl dedicated to it. Don’t seem right to me.”

  “You have no say,” Mrs. Bouchard bellowed.

  “You think not, mouthy?” he snapped. “I tell you this. You force Missy out, and I’m no longer workin’ here. Find another caretaker.”

  “A.J.” The surprise in Mrs. Vaughan’s voice was authentic. “Think of Bessie.”

  “I am. And she’d be appaloosa’d at the two of you.”

  I fought tears at his show of loyalty, both to me and to his dear, departed Bessie.

  “Where would you go? You enjoy seeing the townsfolk when they come to the library.” Mrs. Bouchard had begun to wring her hands.

  “Why, I’ll set up calling hours at Mr. McLeod’s shop. Thataway I can still see my Missy. Only one ’round these parts with any sense.” He stomped his foot down, then heaved himself to his feet, tottering a few moments before finding his precarious balance. “Ain’t that right, Missy?”

  I froze for a moment before straightening my shoulders and entering the depository. “Hello, Mrs. Bouchard, Mrs. Vaughan. I am saddened that you no longer wish me to work here.”

  “You insolent hussy,” Mrs. Vaughan hissed. “How dare you present yourself with your Eastern airs and graces? You are worse than the lowliest women. At least with them, we know what type of women they are.”

  “I am a woman worthy of respect.”

  “You are not. Any woman who entices a man with a dowry and then beggars him by reneging on that promise is shameless.”

  I paled, blinking to forget moments of mindless terror and helplessness. I took a deep breath and faced my tormenters. “My only hope for your daughter, Mrs. Bouchard, is that she never suffers as much of Mr. Wright’s regard as I did.”

  “Suffer? How would you have suffered with his solicitude? His kindness?” Mrs. Vaughan asked.

  “No, Mrs. McLeod, it is you whose charade is over. You who has been found out and do not have the grace to admit it.” Mrs. Bouchard glared at me.

  “I have more grace than you could ever imagine. There is nothing in my past that shames me.” I fisted my hands at my sides and leaned forward as I prepared for battle. “I hope, when you come to your senses, you will be able to say the same.”

  Mr. Pickens’s cane thumped loudly, reminding me of his presence. “Well said, Missy. I’m sure the patrons will miss your charm. And your knowledge.” He frowned at the sisters as I nodded to him and turned to leave.

  “Mr. Pickens, I’ll speak with Mr. McLeod, but we will expect you tomorrow at the workshop.”

  “That will be fine, Missy. That will be fine,” he said. He tottered toward the back, muttering about “Prattling Prisses.”

  I shared an intense, anger-filled glance with the sisters before I turned to the stairs.

  ***

  “GABRIEL.” I LOOKED AROUND the workshop and saw he was hard at work, carving an intricate piece of molding. I bit my lip, loathe to interrupt him.

  “Gabe, your wife wants a word.”

  Ronan’s bellow captured Gabriel’s attention, and he spun to face me.

  “My darling,” he said with a wisp of a smile, the joy lighting his eyes easing some of my tension.

  I glanced gratefully at Ronan for a moment, earning a wink before focusing on Gabriel. “Gabriel, can we talk?”

  He set down the chisel and walked toward me, reaching out to trace the frown line between my brows. “Of course. Let’s go upstairs.” He clasped my hand with his, nodded toward Ronan and led the way upstairs.

  Once there, I paced as Gabriel moved toward the living area in the center of the long room. He sat in his comfortable chair, easing into the lopsided cushions. After a few moments, he chuckled. “I enjoy spending time with you, darlin’, and watching you pace is fascinating, but why don’t you come sit by me and tell me what’s upset you?”

  I spun to face him, the thrust of my argument evaporating with the wry amusement I saw in his gaze. “I need a favor, Gabriel.”

  “For you?”

  “Of course.”

  He reached out his hand, and I moved toward him. I had planned to sit on my rocking chair next to him. Instead he pulled me down onto his lap until I was settled comfortably. He kissed the top of my head and sighed.

  “I love holding you like this,” he murmured. “What favor do you need, darling?”

  “The sisters Bouchard and Vaughan informed Mr. Pickens today that I’m no longer welcome to work at the depository.” I gasped as Gabriel’s arms tightened around me. “Mr. A.J. refuses to work there if I’m not allowed to.”

  Gabriel maneuvered me so that I leaned against the arm of the chair and could meet his worried gaze. “And?”

  I took a deep breath. “He wants to sit in the shop downstairs and see his friends as they come by. That way he can still see them and me.”

  Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head against the back of the chair. “Mr. I-can’t-understand-half-of–what–he-says wants to set up calling hours in my shop?”

  I smiled at the incredulousness in his voice. “Yes, exactly. He’s planning on coming by tomorrow. I didn’t agree. I only told him that I’d talk with you. Well, and that we’d expect him here tomorrow.”

  Gabriel met my gaze. “I know he’s your best friend here. I know he had a hand in helping us reunite. I know he’s stood up for you against those awful women. I just c
an’t imagine day after day of his incessant chatter.”

  “I think you’ve misunderstood him. You’ll come to like him as I do.” I smiled as I kissed his cheek.

  “Are his friends any more intelligible than he is?” Gabriel asked, a small smile flirting around his mouth.

  I laughed as I envisioned them. “Oh, no, they’re worse! But you’ll never lack for stories. Or company.” When I met his serious gaze, I sobered. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I know times like this will make you yearn for the peaceful days before my arrival.” My voice broke, and I tried to rise from his lap.

  His hold on me tightened, restraining me from rising. “Oh, no, my darling. You have it all backward. I was sitting here, thinking about my empty warehouse, devoid of Ronan’s off-key whistling, free of his ribald jokes, and trying to envision what changes your Mr. Pickens will bring.” He pushed a piece of my hair that had fallen loose from my bun behind my ear. “I was thinking how fortunate I was at last to have such a full life. To have people around me who love me, make me laugh and help me to appreciate every day. You’ve brought me that. You’ve filled my life with such joy.” He leaned in to kiss me tenderly.

  “Your Mr. Pickens is very welcome in my shop. For it will make you happy.” He gave a small grimace. “Although I may need you there to interpret for me.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” I whispered as I leaned into him. I inhaled the smell of wood, varnish and the sweaty-musky smell that was all Gabriel. “I worry I have brought you too much …” Here I stopped speaking, not wishing to give voice to the sisters’ venom.

  “What more did the sisters say that you haven’t told me?”

  “Mr. Pickens calls them the Prattling Prisses. I think he meant to say princesses, but I like the sound of prisses better.” I felt Gabriel chuckle soundlessly.

  “I may come to appreciate him. What did the Prattling Prisses say, Rissa?”

  “Cameron is ingratiating himself with Mrs. Bouchard’s daughter. He has told them that I had agreed to marry him, but that I cried off, running out here to find you and that I beggared him in the process. But that I … favored him before I left.”

  “Insolent fools!” Gabriel hissed. He met my eyes, his angry, worried gaze meeting my tired, resigned gaze. “They have no right … no right to judge.”

  “To society as a whole, Gabriel, I was … damaged. And you were a fool for ever marrying me.” The weariness in my voice surprised me.

  “Look at me, Rissa.” He grasped my chin, forcing my gaze to his, intense with love. “Look at me, and tell me that you have ever thought I was disappointed in you. That I wished for more. What anyone outside of these four walls thinks of our relationship doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you and I believe. What we know to be true.”

  “What do you know, Gabriel?” I asked with a small smile, his love for me banishing doubts and hurt caused by unfeeling, self-righteous women.

  “That I will only be completely happy when I’m with you.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “You’ve told me that my love for you is as a miracle. I wonder that you do not realize it is the same for me? All I care about, Clarissa, is that you know that what they say is a lie. And that it doesn’t affect for a moment how I feel for you.”

  I nodded as he wiped away a stray tear. “It’s difficult not to be hurt by their malice, Gabriel.”

  “As long as you never doubt what we have.”

  I met his adamant gaze and nodded.

  ***

  “THANK YOU, AMELIA, for the invitation,” Colin said. He took a bite of the roast, leaned back in his chair, and let out an appreciative sigh. “I heard you were buying fabric at the Merc.”

  “Why would that interest you?” I asked. I looked at Gabriel seated at my right, and he seemed amused by our conversation. Amelia had settled next to me with Nicholas beside Colin. Sebastian sat by Gabriel.

  Colin speared me with an intense stare, before looking down toward his plate heaped with potatoes and peas. “And how are things at the depository?”

  I paled, setting down my spoon with a clatter. “Slow. They’ve determined they do not need my help for the foreseeable future.” I cleared my throat and blinked rapidly in an attempt to forestall any crying.

  “Those wicked old biddies,” Colin hissed.

  “What have you heard, Col? Rissa was just told today that she wasn’t welcomed there,” Gabriel said.

  “What happened, Clarissa?” Amelia asked. “I never thought they’d actually act.”

  I closed my eyes, a shuddering sigh escaping. “They, the sisters Vaughan and Bouchard, visited this morning.” I reached down and gripped Gabriel’s hand, our fingers lacing.

  “I meant to tell you about everything. But I was … distracted.” The tenderness in his eyes at the shared memory and his squeezing of my hand bolstered my lagging spirit.

  “Yes, Clarissa, what did the sisters say this morning? What they had to say at the Merc yesterday was enlightening enough,” Amelia said with a frown.

  “The sisters visited this morning. They think I am a woman of loose morals and do not want one such as me having any association with the library.” I attempted to speak in a neutral voice, but was unable to hide the desolation from mine. “They learned what happened in Boston, although it’s a version of the tale spun by Cameron to make himself seem like he had been the one deceived.”

  “That’s not all they said, Rissa, and word is spreading,” Amelia said.

  I flushed and looked down.

  “Clarissa?” Gabriel asked. “I thought we’d spoken of this? What more could they have said that you wouldn’t have wanted to share with me?”

  “Gabriel, it made me so ashamed,” I whispered.

  “Nothing you have ever done should cause you a moment’s worth of shame,” Gabriel said with a great intensity. He turned toward Amelia. “Amelia?”

  “That the correct place for her would have been on Front Street.”

  Sebastian interjected. “That whatever happened in Boston was Clarissa’s fault because no honorable man would ever act in such a way. That she duped Gabe into marrying her. And that Gabe must have been sorely disappointed on his wedding night. It’s all anyone wants to talk about at the mill. I suspect because I’m good friends with you, they hope I’ll let slip unknown information.”

  “What?” Colin gasped.

  “Idiots!” Gabriel roared as he rose to pace a few steps. He spun to face me, studying me for a few moments, crouching down in front of me. He took my clenched hands into his, gently massaging them until they relaxed. “Why didn’t you tell me all of what they said, darling?”

  I shrugged by way of response.

  “The only one who need feel shame is Cameron. He is the one who grossly abused you. The only emotion you should feel is pride. Pride that you had the courage to live the life you wanted.” He waited a few moments for me to again meet his eyes. He nodded before leaning forward to kiss me along the side of my head, whispering into my ear, “And you know that neither of us was disappointed on our wedding night.” His husky, soft voice was like a caress.

  “What am I to do? I can’t address their horrible gossiping. Because, no matter what anyone says, it’s true.” I glanced around the room, hoping for guidance from all present.

  “Bull,” Colin snapped, “the essence may be the same, but it still smells like pure Cameron manure.” He looked toward Amelia, smiling apologetically for his plain speaking. “Anyone who would believe him over you is an idiot.”

  “Which we know the two sisters are,” Amelia said.

  “The problem is, everyone in town enjoys listening to them,” I said.

  “What you must do, Rissa, is put it around that you wish to focus on Gabriel and your marriage. That you prefer now to provide a good home for him and that you no longer have time to work at the depository. Not the other way around,” Amelia said.

  “How would I do that?” I asked.

  “Let’s visit the seamstress tomorrow. I
f there is one person, other than those vile sisters, who can gossip, it’s her. And then we’ll visit a few stores and ensure we are talking about the same. Soon all will know it was your decision.”

  “A sound plan, Amelia. And have the seamstress work extra hard to have Clarissa’s fall and winter dresses finished quickly,” Gabriel said. “I want there to be no doubt of my tremendous pride and good fortune to have married Clarissa.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “HOW ARE THINGS at the mill, Seb?” Gabriel asked.

  I sat next to him in Sebastian’s living room in his house near the mill. Curtains hung to either side of the front windows, a gentle light entering during the early fall evening. A fire in a brick fireplace against the far wall smoldered, battling the chill of an early October night, while bookcases lined the other cream-colored wall beside the entrance to the room. A large opening led into the dining room with an adjoining door visible to the kitchen. Mismatched, comfortable furniture filled the room.

  Seb sighed and stretched his long legs in front of him in the rocking chair Gabriel had built him. “Fine, if you don’t count that idiot who pursued you west.” Sebastian nodded toward me. “He’s not one to follow orders. Thinks he should already be runnin’ the place. Nearly got Jimmy’s arm lopped off last week being such a fool.”

  I grimaced, and Amelia murmured her distress. Sebastian gave a chagrined look in our direction for his blunt talk.

  “What can you do, Sebastian?” I asked. “It seems that the wedding is to occur the week before Thanksgiving. Mrs. Bouchard talks about how he’s such a bright young man and soon he’ll take over the running of the mill.”

  “You know she’s full of hot air,” Gabriel said.

  “And a whole lot else,” Ronan said with a snicker. I giggled.

  “Unfortunately Mr. Bouchard has agreed with his wife’s plan. He wants Cameron to learn the running of the mill and to take it over for him. Seems to have forgotten how long it took him, or any of the rest of us, to learn things. Doesn’t seem to believe that Cameron should have to work all the jobs, like the rest of us, to fully appreciate how a mill runs.”