Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage Series Book 11)

by Vanessa Vale

  He wanted everything and I unevenly only wanted his protection. Even that wasn’t true. I didn’t need that from him. I could take care of myself. I just wanted a place to hide. Not him, or Hank.

  Was that true now? Was that all I desired now? Even after a few short hours, things had changed. No, I had changed. I liked the way they looked at me. Touched me. Spoke with me. I liked the way they made me feel, and not just when I was naked and they had their hands on me. They didn’t belittle how unladylike I was. They didn’t shame me. They didn’t hit. Quite the opposite, in fact. They put me first. Honored me. Valued me. Fuck, they truly wanted me.

  “Do you want us to get down on bended knee or do you want a shoot out, sweetheart? Pick the right one because it’s a story you’ll tell our grandkids.”

  God, was I really considering marrying them? Fuck, I was. No, not considering. I wanted to marry them. But I didn’t want to outright say it either. They were running roughshod all over me, and I was not going to stand for that. I refused to go from one house to another where two men bossed me about.

  The waited for my answer. Two handsome men. Virile, rugged. One dark, the other with lovely red hair like fire. Solid, sturdy, stalwart. They were also good. And they wanted me. They wanted me, flaws and quirks and all.

  They somehow knew me, because… a shootout? He knew I could hit a target. I’d never seen either of them fire a weapon before. Did I want the romantic gesture or did I want to beat their pants off?

  I smiled, for they really did understand me. A whole life with Father and my brothers—my oldest one, Tom, had been shot and killed in a robbery a few years earlier—and they barely paid any attention to me, knew my wants, my dreams. They knew nothing about me except I was a woman and I served them food and cleaned their house. I wanted a real home, a real family with Hank and Charlie. “Shoot out. Definitely a shootout.”

  8

  HANK

  I’D BEEN SO DRIVEN, so focused on capturing my father’s killers. Ever since I received news he’d been shot, point blank and in cold blood, I’d wanted justice. I’d even taken the drastic step of taking over as sheriff. It had meant time away from Bridgewater, staying in town and sleeping at my father’s house, the one I’d grown up in. Without him there, it had felt empty, and it had made me realize my life was empty, only filled with the justice I wanted so fucking badly.

  I hadn’t appreciated my father’s interest in defending the vulnerable until he was gone. Only when we lowered the pine box in the ground had I felt vulnerable myself. My mother had died birthing me, leaving my father to care for a newborn alone. It had been just the two of us ever since and he’d done a good job. But one bullet and I’d become alone. I’d become victim to men who ruthlessly and without any morals killed a lawman.

  I wanted retribution and revenge. I wanted the Grove gang caught.

  And now, we had two in custody. I should have felt elation. Felt that justice was a little closer to being served. I did. Fuck, yes. But it wasn’t bringing Father back. He was still dead. Still gone. I was satisfied to know they wouldn’t be hurting anyone else.

  Marcus and Travis Grove would have been dragged back to Simms by now, sitting in the jail cell. The doc would have patched them up enough to live until they were sentenced and hanged, probably gave them each a bottle of whiskey to dull the pain.

  They had a week, I guessed, until they were dead. As sheriff, it was my job to see it done.

  I’d follow through, but without the judge in the area, there was nothing to do but wait for him to stop at Simms on his circuit. I had no interest in waiting in town, sleeping in my father’s house. No fucking way. I had something else to fill my time. Someone.

  Grace.

  Perhaps it was Father looking down on me and laughing. Just when I’d gotten exactly what I’d wanted, the long-awaited justice, I got something else I wanted more. Was I a kid deciding which sucker candy to choose at the mercantile? Could I be greedy and want both?

  Fuck, yes.

  The Grove men would hang, not because it was what I wanted to avenge what they did to my father. It was because it was what they deserved. Did that mean I deserved Grace, too?

  Our paths had crossed when she saved us, and in that instant, she became mine.

  Ours. There was no question. No doubt on my part. Or Charlie’s. We had completely different backgrounds, growing up on two different sides of the world. And yet here we were in the same place together. Wanting the same thing.

  Grace.

  I still didn’t know her reasoning behind shooting those men. There was a story there, and we hadn’t given her much opportunity to share it. We’d get it from her. She’d have no secrets with us.

  We’d made it plain as the sun in the sky that we had claimed her.

  Obviously, based on what I’d heard of her conversation with the other women, she hadn’t known what that meant exactly. I’d have thought Charlie’s mouth on her pussy would have been informative enough.

  Obviously not. But I wasn’t fucking her until the vows were said. She’d just have to believe our words.

  What I had learned about the wildcat who had claimed me… yes, she’d claimed us in return, was that the more I told her what to do, the more she rebelled. Even when getting her to marry us. We gave her a choice, albeit one where we were content with both outcomes. Us on our knees asking for her hand in marriage like a man who wooed a woman, courted her. Or a shootout.

  Of course, Grace chose the shootout. She wasn’t used to romance and fancy words. She wasn’t used to being wooed. We’d cherish her, adore her. Give her everything she could ever want, but I didn’t think it would ever be a fancy straw hat with lace and ribbons.

  Dinner, of course, was delayed. Everyone wanted to watch since Charlie and I had shared the story of how we met, of how she’d saved our lives. It wasn’t often a wedding occurred depending on who was the sharpest shooter.

  Mason and Brody set a long line of potatoes on a fence a distance away. They were small targets, but I had little doubt she’d miss. I knew her to be that good. Her targets on the Grove men weren’t random. She’d chosen them intentionally. Aimed and hit her mark. Both times. I didn’t know why she chose them, there and then, but I would. For now, I was content to watch her do it again. Because oddly enough, it was hot as fuck. It was going to be difficult to keep from tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her to the stable and taking her virginity with a nice hard fuck. I’d claim her nice and dirty and deep like I wanted. Like I knew she’d love. Then I’d watch as Charlie gave her even more cock, more pleasure.

  Grace stood between me and Charlie, each of us holding our preferred weapon, loaded. Our future wife shouldn’t be between us ready to fire a gun. It wasn’t what I’d envisioned. It wasn’t the kind of woman any of the other men at Bridgewater had. But I didn’t want a woman like Emma or Laurel. I wanted Grace, just as she was, secrets and all.

  “Each of you will get six shots,” Kane said, taking on the impromptu role of official. The others—Emma, Ian, Brody, Olivia and her husbands—stood behind us for safety. Mason and Laurel sat with Ann, Robert and Andrew closer to the house with the children to ensure they didn’t run into the line of fire.

  I looked to Grace, who was gazing at the potatoes. Focused. Her hat was off, her long hair wild and pulled back in the thick, familiar braid. She still wore men’s clothing, but her breasts were unbound—that long strip of fabric would be burned—and outlined in the large shirt. I could even see the hard tips of her nipples poking against the worn material. I knew what they looked like, what they felt like in my palms. Fuck. Once this competition was over, her hair would be unbound, her clothes on the floor of my bedroom and Grace in my bed.

  “The most hits wins.”

  She glanced up at Charlie, then me.

  He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

  She rolled her eyes and checked her weapon.

  Turning to the side, she raised her right arm, weapon pointed. She was calm, her brea
thing slow and even. Her arm was steady as she exhaled, then fired.

  Then again, and again until all six shots were used.

  One potato remained on the top of the fence.

  Closing her eyes, she swore under her breath, which made my lips twitch in amusement. She knew she’d get her ass spanked for such language, and it would not be a hardship to mete out another punishment. Fortunately, the next time I spanked her, I’d be able to fuck her directly after. Then she wouldn’t think it a punishment at all, for she’d come, and hard.

  “I thought you never missed,” I murmured.

  She looked to me and just shrugged. I narrowed my eyes and wondered. Had she missed on purpose? If so, why—

  “Bloody hell, woman, where did you learn to shoot like that?” Kane came over, slapped her on the shoulder, albeit gently, and grinned down at her. “We could have used you in the British army.” She smiled up at him. The fucker. She didn’t smile like that at me. Then again, he wasn’t claiming her either. He wasn’t the one who seemed to make her more contrary than less. Yes, that was my job and I would be eager to see that fire and sass aimed right at me, just like her gun.

  “Hands off, Kane. You’ve got a woman of your own,” I told him. Why did he need to touch Grace when he had Emma? She was a beautiful, lusty woman. There was no doubt she was satisfying her two husbands.

  Kane’s gaze shifted to mine and he slapped me on the back and laughed. “Glad to finally see you claimed, Sheriff.”

  He was vexing me on purpose. I knew it, but I didn’t care.

  “My father taught me to shoot,” she replied, ignoring the way I practically pissed on her leg to stake my claim. “He taught my two older brothers. I watched and practiced when they weren’t around.”

  This was an interesting bit of information. I glanced over her head at Charlie. It was more than we’d gotten from her on our own. It was a start.

  “He should be proud of you,” Kane said.

  She stiffened. “No. That wouldn’t be what my father thinks of me.”

  Kane’s expression didn’t change when she answered, but it made my blood boil. From the crispness of her voice, she didn’t like her father at all. “And your brothers?”

  She sighed. “One’s dead,” she replied as if she were speaking of the weather. There wasn’t a hint of sadness in her expression. “The other… we don’t get along.”

  “Do we need to ask your father for your hand?” I asked. I was a gentleman in some things. I’d pay my respects to her family as was expected, but no matter his answer, I was claiming her anyway.

  Her chin tipped down and she stared at her boots. “No. I’m on my own now.”

  Charlie cocked a brow, but said nothing. “My turn to shoot, love.”

  Kane stepped back.

  She looked to him and he winked, then turned his attention to his target. He shot one potato easily, then the next. He lowered his arm, looked to Grace. “Did I tell you I was a sharpshooter in Mohamir?”

  He aimed and fired again. And again. Like Grace, he missed one.

  “A tie,” Kane stated, although that was obvious to everyone watching.

  My turn. There was no chance I was losing this competition, especially when the stakes were so high. I wanted Grace as mine.

  I adjusted my stance, raised my arm to point my gun at the edible targets, then glanced at Grace. She was biting her plump lower lip, realizing she just might be married tonight. Well, not just might.

  I looked at the line of potatoes, fired one after the other, exploding six in a row.

  I tossed the empty gun to Kane, then hooked my arm about Grace’s waist, pulled her into me. Brushing a curl back from her face, I said, “Charlie might be an expert military sharpshooter. But I’m the son of a Montana Territory sheriff.”

  I kissed her then, fierce and possessive. This time, when my tongue flicked her lower lip, she opened for me. Kissed me back. Hot, wet, sweet and the little moan that escaped sealed her fate.

  Grace was ours, fair and square. “Robert,” I called when I finally lifted my head. “Pull out your Bible.”

  9

  G RACE

  “WAIT!” I shouted, panicking. I wasn’t ready to marry them at this moment.

  Actually, I was, and that was the reason I’d called out. I shouldn’t be ready. I needed time to think. They’d been like a tornado. I’d heard about one that had struck east of Billings a few years back. Strong, swirling winds and total devastation. I felt like I’d been tossed about, at least my emotions anyway, all day long. It was like they were a fierce storm that had blown into my life and changed it. Turned my path, my entire way of life upside down in a matter of hours.

  I needed time.

  I needed—

  “I need a dress!”

  Charlie and Hank stared at me. So did Kane, Ian, Mason and the others.

  “Of course, you do,” Emma said, approaching her husbands holding a little girl with the same dark hair as hers. Ellie. She was beautiful and a little shy, clinging to her mother. When she was close enough, she reached her little arms out for Ian, who took her and tossed her up in the air. Her squeals of laughter made me relax. A little.

  “Every woman should wear a dress for her wedding.”

  I was thankful for her intervention, for she was justifying my words.

  “Fine. We shall return to the house and you can put one on,” Hank said, as if it were so easy.

  “I don’t own a dress.”

  “Borrow one,” Hank added, looking to the women of Bridgewater.

  Ann and Laurel were too short. Emma was closer to my height, but her bust was much larger. Olivia was much curvier than I.

  “She must have a dress of her own, Charlie. Something special to remember the day.”

  “We’ll give her something to remember the day,” Hank replied and I felt my cheeks heat, knowing to what he was referring. He’d said they wouldn’t take my virginity until we were married.

  “Two somethings,” Charlie clarified.

  “It is too late today, but we can find a ready-made one at the mercantile,” she added.

  “Love, let them resolve this themselves,” Kane told Emma, wrapping an arm about her waist from behind and kissing the top of her head.

  Hank took my hand and led me away from the group. Charlie followed.

  “You are scared,” he said.

  My mouth fell open. “I… I believe I am, but not of you.” I fervently looked to him, then Charlie. “Not of either of you.”

  I wanted to have him call Robert and his Bible over and become theirs. Why did I want that? Why did I want to stop bickering and just say yes? “I… met you a few hours ago. I need to at least… at least—”

  “Yes?” Charlie prodded.

  “I need a night to sleep on it.”

  “To change your mind?” Charlie asked. I saw the little V in his brow, the worried look. He thought I might reconsider, might not want to be their wife.

  I shook my head. “No. No.” I meant it. I had no intention of second thoughts. “You’re right. You’ve claimed me.”

  The tension slipped from his features, his jaw unclenched. Those lips that had kissed me, had been on my pussy turned up into a small smile. “That’s good, love.”

  It felt good to know I’d eased his mind, to be the one to offer him happiness. It was odd, this sensation, knowing that me wanting to be with him made him content.

  “It seems this claiming is more important than a wedding.”

  Hank nodded. “We’ve agreed. To me,” he tipped his head toward Charlie. “To us, that’s enough. You’re ours. Since two men are marrying you, it is not conventional, or legal. But we will do it nonetheless.”

  “You will marry me, love.”

  I flicked my gaze to Hank and he nodded in agreement. I wondered why he wasn’t bothered by the fact that he and I wouldn’t be legally wed. He was the sheriff. The one who believed in black and white.

  “You will have my name, but today, when we fir
st saw you, you became ours.”

  I felt light, like I could float. Was this happiness? Was this love? I had no idea but I… I liked it. And I wanted it more. I wanted it always.

  “I have no intention of changing my mind. But I need a moment to breathe. To think. The two of you are overwhelming.”

  Both of them grinned wickedly. “And we still have our clothes on.”

  That was definitely what I was afraid of.

  “You’re correct, sweetheart. When we get you between us, you won’t be thinking at all.”

  I swallowed, then squeezed my thighs together, knowing that was true.

  Hank nodded. “All right. We will marry tomorrow after you go to town for a dress.”

  Tomorrow. It was as if waiting an extra day was a huge burden, especially since I’d known them less that twelve hours.

  “You can sleep between us.”

  I sputtered and held up my hand. “If I’m in a bed between you, I hardly doubt you’ll let me sleep.”

  Charlie winked. “Smart woman.”

  “She can stay here tonight,” Emma called.

  We hadn’t walked too far away from the others, and they were definitely a nosy bunch. I liked it.

  I tried not to let my relief be too evident. Hank and Charlie were like a stampede, running roughshod over anything in its way. They weren’t thrilled at the idea of me being out of their sight, but nodded nonetheless.

  I looked to Emma. “Thank you kindly.”

  Charlie turned my head with a finger to my chin, forced me to look up at him. “Know this, love. You’ll be in the dress long enough to say the vows. Then it’ll be stripped off of you.”

  I swallowed, for I didn’t need to see the honest intensity in his look. I only had to hear the carnal promise of his voice.

  “IF YOU LAUGH, you know I can shoot you,” I grumbled, sliding the curtain between the mercantile and Mrs. Maycomb’s living area at the back.