The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 28

28

T hey managed to spend three glorious days in each other’s arms. For the first time in his life, Gibb was happy to let Archie head out every morning, taking the crew ashore for the excavation of the statue of Mars. Once they were gone, Isabella locked the door to his cabin, and they spent every moment exploring each other. He loved learning what made her squirm, what made her purr, and what sent her over the edge of ecstasy.

Of course, every moment wasn’t entirely filled with passion. This morning, Isabella changed the dressing on his leg, as she did daily. It was also a novelty for Gibb to lie still and enjoy her ministrations as he did now, lying on his stomach, his arms surrounding his pillow.

“I do believe the swelling has gone down,” she said, applying her poultice.

“I’m glad of it.” Gibb glanced back and watched as she wound a fresh bandage over the wound. “I believe it is time for us to take a stroll about the deck.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she nodded. “Very well. I’ll fetch my pelisse.”

“Is there a chill?” he asked, looking toward the windows at the overcast skies.

“A bit—it is awfully windy as well. At least we are not in England. There is often snow in West Sussex on the first day of December.”

“Aye, and Scotland is worse. Especially in the mountains up at the lodge. Martin and I once were snowed in up there for an entire winter.”

“Oh my. Was that before he inherited the title?”

“Aye—when we were lads. Missed a term at university, we did.”

After Isabella slipped away to fetch her pelisse, Gibb donned his clothes then took a few strides across the floor to test his injured leg. The movement made him grunt with the sting, but there was no chance he’d let the lassie know how much it still hurt.

He met her in the corridor and offered his elbow. “Have I told you how lovely you look in violet?”

She patted her hand atop the woolen pelisse and graced him with a lovely smile. “I do?”

“Aye.”

“Thank you.”

Together they walked to the helm, though there was no one manning it, since they were at anchor. Gibb pulled out his spyglass. “I’d like to see the men’s progress on the excavation.”

“I understand they have moved a great many pounds of dirt.”

Gibb found the men in his sights, though it was impossible to see the statue’s detail from the deck. He handed her the glass. “I think we ought to conduct an inspection on the morrow.”

“You mean to go ashore?” she asked, peering through the glass.

“Aye.”

“Is it not too soon?”

“I am walking, am I not? Do not coddle me.”

Isabella folded the spyglass and returned it. “I wouldn’t dream of it—however, you’re not fooling me. I can tell you are in pain.”

“It isna all that bad. Besides, I’m no longer in danger of succumbing to the viper’s poison. The sooner I resume my duties, the better.”

“Beg your pardon, Cap’n,” said Gowan, leading Maribel by the hand. “Would ye have a moment for a word?”

Gibb stowed the spyglass in the cupboard behind the helm. “What is on your mind, Mr. Erskine?”

The boatswain cast an enraptured glance toward Isabella’s companion. “Well, I’ve asked Miss Hatch to marry me, and I was wondering if you would be willing to preside over our vows.”

Maribel glowed with happiness. “After you’ve recovered, of course.”

Gibb glanced to Isabella, who had turned positively ashen. “It would be an honor,” he said, feeling like a damned heel. He should have proposed to the lass before they stepped out. But he couldn’t undo what was already done, so he moved his foot forward and gestured to his injured leg. “If I’m well enough to walk the deck, I’m well enough to hold a prayer book. What say you about the morrow?”

As the two lovers exchanged glances, Isabella nudged Gibb’s arm. “Is there not a requirement to wait?”

“Not on my ship, nor is there in Scotland.”

“Of course, how silly of me—the stories of Gretna Green and all.” She smiled at Maribel, though her eyes reflected sadness. “Dearest, my peach silk will be ideal with your coloring, and if you are to be married on the morrow, we must make haste to ensure everything is perfect.”

“Then it is settled,” Gibb said, scratching his head. Perhaps they should have spent another day locked in his cabin. “I’ll pay a visit to Cookie and order something fitting for a celebration.”

The two women left as Gowan bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

Gibb reaffirmed his congratulations and headed aft. He should have asked the lass to marry him before he bedded her—that was the honorable thing to do, but no, he had put it off for no logical reason he could think of at the moment. Bless it, how was he going to dig himself out of this muddle?

After pushing aside her own heartbreak, Isabella put on a happy smile and took Maribel into her cabin to ensure everything would be perfect for her dear companion’s wedding. She’d never seen the maid so incredibly happy and was glad to be able to provide her with a lovely gown and a silk flower bouquet she pieced together from a few of her bonnets. Isabella even went so far as to offer Gowan employment as her butler once they returned to England, a post that he gratefully accepted.

Only when the lovebirds left her cabin and she was alone did she allow the melancholy to surge forth. She dropped onto her bed and sobbed until sleep mercifully took her disappointment away.

The next day, Isabella stood as witness during the wedding ceremony, but throughout the service she refused to look at Gibb. It wasn’t easy to pretend to be happy and gay as she faced the raw truth that the man of her dreams had never once discussed marriage. Yes, she was fully aware of his desire to remain unwed and his outrageous conviction that marriage would only bring him misery. Moreover, she could not deny having made plans to return to Georgia if she were to conceive because of his stubborn abhorrence of the institution of holy matrimony. But seeing the happiness on Gowan and Maribel’s faces as they stared into each other’s eyes and pledged eternal love was more than Isabella could bear.

Thank heavens the ceremony didn’t last long, and in no time a cask of whisky was opened and the music began with the fiddle, drum, and spoons playing, reminding her of a happier time—a time before she’d arrived in Georgia; a time when marrying Gibb MacGalloway wasn’t even a possibility.

Since there were only two women aboard, both Maribel and Isabella were kept busy, dancing with what seemed like every sailor on the ship—except for the one she most wanted to dance with. Isabella felt Gibb’s eyes on her like boring orbs. She felt as if he could see through her blue muslin gown, her shift, and her stays, drilling straight to her heart. From the few glimpses she’d stolen, he hadn’t shifted his gaze away from her, though he hadn’t smiled.

Neither had he asked her to dance.

After the crew bade goodnight to the newlyweds and the deck grew quiet, Isabella stood near the bowsprit and stared out to sea. Even though they had found the statue of Mars, it was time to go home. She didn’t want to stay here any longer. No matter how much she loved sharing Gibb MacGalloway’s bed, she forbade herself from going near his cabin ever again.

She heard his footsteps approach, a bit of a limp tapping the timbers behind.

Isabella should have known he’d come up there. She had hoped he would, but hoped he would not all the same. Their affair had been monumental, and she did not want to forget, but it was time to end it.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said in his alluring Scottish brogue as he moved beside her.

“The wedding was lovely.”

Gibb leaned his elbows on the rail. “It was.”

“You’ll have to find a new boatswain now. Gowan has agreed to be my butler.”

“He told me.”

“Are you upset that I made him an offer of employment?”

“Nay—he’s good at his job, mind you, but he’ll be happier if he can lie in his wife’s arms every night.”

Those words were like a knife thrust into Isabella’s heart, and she did her best not to cough out a sob, though a tear streamed down her face.

Gibb took her hand, those rough pads holding her so securely that when she tried to draw away, he didn’t let her.

“I have an apology to make.”

She wiped away the dratted tear. “Oh?”

“I should have asked you to marry me before we became intimate, and it was my folly not to have done so.”

She knew why he had not. Furthermore, she had recounted all his reasons over and over in her mind enough times to drive herself to the brink of madness.

Gibb kneeled and gazed up at her, his face too handsome for words. But she was finished with allowing herself to be ambushed by his beauty. Blast it all, why did she have to be so teary-eyed?

“I must make amends,” he said, drawing his hands over his heart. “You are the most engaging woman I have ever met. You are bonny and smart. You care so very much for those around you, and I cannot see myself living without you. Marry me.”

Isabella’s heart squeezed to the size of a walnut. After Gowan so gallantly proposed to Maribel, did the captain now feel compelled to take pity on her? “H-how can y-you say that when you’ve told me you are certain you’d be miserable if you ever took a wife?”

“I was a fool, and I dinna ken you as well at the time. Besides, it was my responsibility to take you to America.”

Isabella blinked and swiped the tears from her eyes. Never once during all their time together had he mentioned the word love.

No.

No, no, no! His proposal did not feel genuine.

“I am sorry, but I cannot marry you because you are already married. You told me your only love is the sea, and I will not share your love with anyone or anything.”

Gibb dropped her hand and stood. “Why? Is it because Gowan proposed to Maribel? Am I too late?”

“You don’t understand.”

He reached for her, but she slipped away from his grasp. “Help me to understand.”

Isabella wrung her hands and paced, trying to collect her thoughts. Finally, she faced Gibb and thew out her arms. “You will abandon me. You may not mean to, but you will, and I cannot bear it.”

Gibb opened his mouth, but she silenced him by raising her hand. For the first time in all her days, Isabella needed to express her deepest fears—lay them bare to be stomped upon. “My father abandoned me more than once. He was always off fighting some war and never home when I needed him. Moreover, my mother died bringing me into the world, and was not there to give me the love I craved. I married Mr. Schuyler, and we’d barely made it out of the church when he dropped dead. So, yes. I want to be loved for once in my life!”

A deep valley formed between the captain’s eyebrows, as it oft did when he contemplated a quandary. “You think I dunna care for you?”

All Isabella managed was a sad shake of her head. “Clearly, you do not understand, and I doubt you ever will.”

She was unable to remain there for another minute, and tears flooded her eyes as she ran to her cabin and locked the door. How dare Gibb MacGalloway ask her to marry him out of guilt? His proposal might have been full of pretty prose, but he’d never once uttered the words “I love you,” and until he did, he would always love the sea more than he loved her. Now that she had fallen utterly in love with him, she would never be able to share him.