Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage Series Book 11)

by Vanessa Vale

  Ah, the defiant miss had returned. It only proved that stroking her pussy turned her from a wildcat to a kitten. We just shouldn’t stop.

  Hank looked to the barely erect cabin. “Here? This shack? Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re coming with us.”

  No fucking way would I let her stay here. Not only could the shack fall down at any time, I wouldn’t see her living like this, even for one night. She deserved a soft bed, softer clothes and a hot meal, not whatever hard tack she had in her saddle bag that would only ease the ache of an empty belly. Where would she get more food? Hell, where would she go when it rained, when it turned cold? No fucking way were we leaving her here.

  Her dark brow quirked up as she looked up at him. “You’re arresting me? I wasn’t the one trying to kill you. I saved you.”

  “We’re not arresting you,” he countered on a sigh. I knew what he was thinking. We had to pick the most contrary woman in the territory to be ours. She was what I wanted, and I wasn’t letting her go. No fucking way. “We’re taking you back to Bridgewater.”

  She frowned, then huffed. “What does that even mean?”

  “Don’t you know?” Hank asked.

  When she was about to continue to bicker about lord only knows what, I’d had enough. I went over to her, leaned down and tossed her over my shoulder.

  “Put me the fuck down!” she shouted at my back. I grinned as I walked toward the horses, spanked her ass.

  “You’re ours, Grace,” I told her, giving her another spank. Fuck, that felt good. Not only the feel of her taut ass, but giving it a spanking, too. “Foul mouth, wet pussy and all. We’ve claimed you.”

  GRACE

  I’D NEVER MET two men who confused me more. They riled me to the point of epic frustration. They also riled me to newfound arousal. I didn’t understand them. I had no idea how to behave or act. I had no idea what to do with them, what to say, especially when Charlie took it upon himself to toss me over his shoulder and carry me off. And talk about—and touch—my pussy as if it truly belonged to him.

  Father, Travis, even Barton Finch. Those men I understood. They were driven by selfishness and greed. Hatred. They knew about justice, but to them it wasn’t shiny like the sheriff’s badge. It was tarnished and for the weak. I’d grown up with this perspective, and I had to wonder how I hadn’t turned out like them. Somehow, I’d known trouble when I saw it, knew right from wrong. Bad from good.

  But that didn’t mean it made sense to me. It didn’t mean they made sense.

  Charlie had set me back on my feet before my horse, even offered to help me mount it, which of course I refused with a withering glare. It had done nothing but make him grin and wink at me. I almost felt more naked now without my gun belt and gun, both now in Hank’s possession.

  Soon after, we’d ridden away from the shanty to Bridgewater, wherever the fuck that was. The sun dried me quickly, but that didn’t make me any less uncomfortable. What did I say to two men who I’d saved from certain death, yet who’d spanked and—as Charlie had called it—finger fucked me? Especially since I’d liked it. A man, putting his fingers there… that had been incredible. How had I not known? God, what was wrong with me?

  Since I didn’t have an answer, I stayed quiet as we rode into Simms long enough to give the satchel of stolen money to a deputy to return to the bank, then to send another along with the town doctor to ride out to collect Father and Travis. I was glad we weren’t the ones with that task. Charlie and Hank didn’t know I was a Grove—they’d have tossed me into jail then and there if they had—and I intended to keep it that way. No way Father and Travis would keep their yaps shut about who I was, especially since I’d shot them.

  Once I was on my horse, I’d taken the time to think. Arguing with them didn’t work. They didn’t back down. Hell, it seemed to amuse them. I was the one who’d ended up in the creek on my ass, and I didn’t want to do that again. More importantly, their strange interest to claim me offered me the one thing I had yet to solve on my own: a safe location to hide.

  As a Grove, the last place Barton Finch would go hunting for me would be the sheriff’s own home. He’d be stupid to even ride by, let alone knock on the sheriff’s front door and ask after me.

  While he hadn’t participated in this morning’s bank robbery—he’d intended instead to have me in his bed, willing or unwilling—he was a fugitive, wanted by the law for other crimes like stage robbery and murder. The only thing standing in the way of the sheriff catching him and putting a noose about his neck was… me. I knew where he lived, but there was no fucking way I’d go back there. I had no intention of getting anywhere near the man again. I felt nauseated just thinking about it.

  So I’d spend some time with Hank and Charlie. It would be no hardship, at least on the eyes.

  As for the rest of my body… I squirmed in the saddle, the achy feeling Charlie had brought about when he’d touched me so intimately hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had gotten worse.

  Hell, was I in trouble.

  We’d ridden in an amiable sort of silence, letting our horses have their heads as the sun slowly worked its way toward the peaks of the mountains to the west. I was a little lost in the feel of my pussy as it rubbed against the hard leather of my saddle. It had never affected me like this before, not until these two. Until Charlie had touched me. Now… now I wanted to roll my hips and feel… more.

  I cleared my throat. “Didn’t… didn’t you want to arrest the men, take them to town and put them in jail yourself?”

  The sheriff, who rode alongside me, turned his head. He tipped his hat back and studied me. “I got what I wanted today.”

  I frowned, unsure of his words. Did he mean me? He’d said they planned to claim me, whatever the hell that was. Or did it mean he was content I’d shot the men who’d robbed most of the Montana Territory and they’d be in jail by nightfall regardless who dragged their sorry asses back to town?

  He confused me to no end. Especially now when he wasn’t trying to rile me.

  The sheriff had spanked me. On my bare ass, nonetheless. And it had hurt like hell, but that sting had turned to fire. To heat. To a surprising and strange need. In that moment, I’d hated the man, but at the same time, I’d wanted to jump in his arms and kiss the hell out of him.

  It was the strangest combination of sensations. Then he’d chucked me in the creek. The bastard. That had cooled every hint of interest I’d felt.

  It hadn’t been the sheriff who’d warmed me right back up though. It was Charlie who’d stunned me by putting his hand in my pants. Barton Finch had tried the same thing earlier, but he’d gotten a knee to the balls.

  Charlie had gotten me to whimper and moan, practically writhe on his hand. Barton hadn’t gotten a finger inside of me, thankfully, but I doubted it would have felt like what Charlie had made me feel. Hot… like liquid fire. Need, fierce and swift, had made me want to ride his finger like a bucking bronco.

  I’d lost my mind.

  No, when he’d pulled his finger from me and licked it—licked it!—I’d lost it for sure. I wanted him to put it right back! I wanted something that it seemed only he could give me. I didn’t know what it was, exactly, but I knew I wanted more of his touch, more even, of the sheriff’s spanking.

  Fuck, I liked their attention, even if I didn’t understand it.

  I’d lay low and try to figure out what best to do with Barton Finch at this Bridgewater place with them. I might even let them touch me some more. Because if just the tip of his finger had made me feel like heaven was a place on Earth, then I’d let them do it again. Because the constant shift of the saddle against my pussy wasn’t enough.

  Over an hour later, we rode up to a house nestled back in a grove of cottonwoods. Compared to the shanty, this place was a copper king’s mansion. It was two-story, made of wood with a river rock chimney. It was… lovely. Clean, freshly painted a crisp white. There were even shutters on the windows. Compared to where I’d woken up this morning and spent my pas
t nineteen years, this was… a home. A place for children—ones who were truly wanted—to thrive and grow.

  If I had to hide out from Barton Finch, this would be a comfortable place to do it. He wouldn’t find me here. There was no connection between me and Hank or Charlie. I’d never even met the men before today. This place, Bridgewater, was far from town, and in the opposite direction of my family’s cabin and also from Barton Finch’s place. I felt safe here. I felt like I could stay forever. But that was a ridiculous notion. I was the woman in pants. The woman who swore like a drunken miner.

  “If you’re the sheriff, why don’t you live in town?” I asked, glancing from the large house in front of us to the man who just dismounted his horse.

  “Because I wasn’t planning on being a lawman. I’m a rancher.”

  I swung down from my animal, patted his sweaty flank.

  “But the Groves killed my father.”

  I gasped, turned on my heel, my braid whipping against my back. My heart thudded in my ears and I could barely hear what he said next.

  “He was the previous sheriff, killed on duty, so I stepped into the role to see them brought to justice.” His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes narrowed and his body was tensely coiled as he adjusted his saddle.

  Fuck. Fuck. Last winter, I’d heard Father say they shot a lawman, but I hadn’t known who. I hadn’t even known he’d died.

  “Then…” My throat felt like dust and I had to swallow hard. Blinked away the quick rush of tears. “I’m… I’m so sorry to hear about your father. I understand why you left them out there, but… but didn’t you want to ensure they were behind bars? To see them hanged?”

  Charlie took my horse’s reins from my numb fingers. “Don’t you?” he asked quietly.

  The two words were like a loaded weapon, aimed at me and full of intent. He wanted to know why I’d shot them. I couldn’t tell them the truth, that I was Grace Grove and my family had killed Hank’s father. They’d either toss me in jail for being somehow complicit or kick me off their land. Then I’d be back at the shanty and hopeful I would avoid Barton Finch.

  No. I’d stay here for as long as I could. “They were going to shoot you,” I replied simply.

  It was true. If I hadn’t tracked them down after escaping from Barton Finch, if I hadn’t found them right then, Hank and Charlie would have been murdered. I’d had my chance; I’d had my hatred, and I’d used them both. I’d saved two good men while seeking justice for two bad ones. While I’d aimed and fired, getting justice for me, I realized there were so many other people affected by them. Like Hank.

  I wasn’t sure if Charlie believed me, but he didn’t push for more. I looked to Hank, waiting for him to answer my question. It was one thing for me to be here with them, safe from Barton Finch, but my father killed his father. If he knew…

  “They’ll get justice.” He took off his hat, pinned me with a stare. “And I get you.”

  5

  G RACE

  “I ASSUME you wish to have that bath we denied you,” Hank said, taking his hat off.

  I stared at the dark locks that had been hidden until now. While his hair had curl and fell almost rakishly over his forehead, it wasn’t wild like mine. It looked silky and I wondered what it would feel like curled around my fingers. I could now see his strong brow. His skin was tan from the sun and little lines were at the corners of his eyes. He seemed so serious for them to be laugh lines, but I didn’t think he was intense all the time. Was he?

  I was still caught on what he’d said before. And I get you. What did that mean? He didn’t want me, surely. Finally, I nodded, remembering he was waiting for a response.

  I offered him a polite smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Then we’ll take the horses to the stables to be brushed down and fed while you do that.”

  I looked to Smoky, my horse, the only real thing I had of value… and that I cared about. Charlie patted his neck and I was relieved to know he would be well taken care of. Father and Travis wouldn’t hurt one of our horses because they were too lazy to walk. But it didn’t mean they were given the best care either.

  I retrieved my saddle bag, tossed it over my shoulder. “Again, thank you.”

  Charlie pointed toward the front door. “Everything you might need is inside.”

  Lord, they were so nice. They didn’t expect me to cook food for them, didn’t expect me to do anything but take care of myself. They were tackling the chore of brushing down the horses, feeding and watering them.

  I watched them lead the animals away, taking my time to study the two men. The broad shoulders, the taut bottoms, the flexing of their sturdy thighs beneath their pants. Even their long-legged gaits. Somehow, I’d caught their attentions. Well, I knew how, but I wasn’t exactly sure why. So I’d shot two men for them. It wasn’t as if it had taken any effort on my part. I’d told them I always hit what I aimed for. I was glad I’d been there when I had. The thought of them being killed by Father and Travis had me swearing under my breath.

  My heart ached knowing they’d killed Hank’s father. I could only imagine what kind of man he’d been, law-abiding and justice-seeking, just like his son. I couldn’t blame Hank for taking up where the older man had left off capturing the Grove gang.

  I felt guilt for being one of them. I knew Father and Travis. Lived with them. I knew where to find Barton Finch. Knew where to end it all for him. Knew how to let him hand the sheriff job to someone else so he could be a rancher again. And I kept him from all of that. The one he’d brought to his house, the one he let bathe in peace… I didn’t say a word.

  If I were a man, they’d have bought me a whiskey at the saloon. But I was a woman and they’d said they’d claimed me. Now, here I was at Bridgewater.

  I saw other houses quite a distance away, a barn and a few other buildings. Was all this land theirs? Was this one large ranch? I was alone and answers would have to wait.

  I went inside. The rooms were large and bright, the walls painted the same crisp white as the exterior. Gleaming wood floors were beneath my feet. There was a large fireplace, now cold, in one room I meandered through. It was well-furnished, rich velvets that were soft as I slid my fingertips over it. Smooth wood. Everything was well-kept and spotless.

  It was obvious Hank and Charlie were well off. This was not a home of a poor family. I knew that well enough. I circled the ground floor and came upon the kitchen. There were no dirty dishes about, no stench of spoiled food. The kitchen table was scrubbed and there were no scraps of food on the floor. I’d tried to keep up with the housework, to not live in filth and squalor, but Father and Travis had made it almost impossible. I hated being their slave, but I did all the housework more for me than for them. I hadn’t wanted to live in a pig sty. I hadn’t wanted to live with pigs.

  And now I didn’t.

  I felt as if I were in a dream, a storybook that wasn’t real.

  But it was.

  I looked out the back window over the… was that a pump for water and a sink? I’d heard talk of water being indoors, but had never seen it. I pumped the handle and cool water came out. Leaning down, I took a drink. As I wiped my mouth, I laughed. Inside water.

  Through the window over the pump, I saw a creek in the distance. I carried my saddle bag out the back door and made my way to it. The land angled down toward it and a small valley formed and followed the water. When I reached the bank, I stood before a deep pool where large rocks sheltered it from the stronger current. It also had a sandy bottom, and I wondered if this where Hank and Charlie came to bathe. My mind immediately went to them stripping out of their clothing and sitting where I was now. Naked, washing. I took off my hat, wiped my brow. I was still hot and strangely needy.

  Charlie had touched me earlier and besides being stunned, I’d liked it and I had to admit to myself I wanted him to do it again. I knew what it led to because I had crude male family members. But I thought it was just fucking, just rutting a cock into a woman. I didn’t know th
ere was other things that went with it. The rutting part didn’t hold any appeal, but whatever Charlie had been doing was fine by me.

  Maybe the creek would cool my thoughts and my body, so after a quick glance about to ensure I was alone, I stripped out of the men’s pants and shirt, unwrapping the binding about my breasts. Once naked, I looked down at myself, saw my nipples were hard. I wasn’t even in the cold water yet. But my breasts were heavy, achy. So was lower, between my thighs. They’d done something to me back at the shanty. Oh, they’d touched me, but they’d also… bewitched me. I wanted them to touch me again. But I wasn’t the typical woman. Oh, I had breasts and hips and all that, but I wasn’t feminine. I didn’t know how to flirt or bat my eyelashes. I didn’t swoon or primp. They’d be crazy if they wanted me. Surely, they had eager maidens making calf eyes at them whenever they were in town.

  Surprisingly cranky at that notion, I walked into the water. The spring run-off had passed and the creeks were no longer icy cold. Warmed now by the sun and the hot weather, it felt good swirling around my calves. Careful on the smooth rocks, I walked over to the calm pool, felt the sand beneath my feet. I sunk down, then worked the tie off my braid and let the strands loose, using my fingers to untangle the mass. I sighed as it swirled about me on the water’s surface. I lay back, floated, closed my eyes and relaxed.

  “I’M STARTING to think you have an obsession with creeks.”

  Spinning about at Hank’s voice, I gasped as they approached the water’s edge, just as they had earlier by the other creek behind the shanty. Same clothes, same intense stares, same pleased looks that they’d caught me by surprise. This time, I was naked and since Hank just winked at me, he was more than simply pleased.

  I sat upon the sandy bottom. Water was up to my breasts, but it was so clear that I had no doubt they could see everything. I covered my breasts with my arm and lifted a knee, hoping to shield as much of me from their view as possible.