Their Rebellious Bride (Return To Bridgewater Book 1)

by Vanessa Vale

  James could be dying even now. Dead.

  Fuck, I didn’t want this to be happening. I didn’t want that old quack of a doctor to be right.

  I glanced at Tennessee riding beside me. She sat a saddle beautifully, had no problem keeping up. Her bonnet dangled from the ribbon, her hair in a braid down her back, but long tendrils blew back in the wind. I only saw fierce determination on her face.

  “Tell me about James’ heart,” she called, not looking my way.

  “I don’t know much other than that he was sick last week with a summer cold. Abigail had summoned the doctor and the man found a defect in his heart.”

  “You knew and didn’t tell me?”

  “I only found out the other day myself.”

  “That’s why… oh god, that’s why you married me as well.” She turned to look at me, but I didn’t answer. She knew how I felt, I’d told her only a few hours ago. I would not debate it now.

  Perhaps she felt the same way, for she asked, “Is it bad?”

  I nodded, although I really had no idea.

  “The doctor is old enough to be my grandfather, and I’m not young. I doubt his fitness for his position, potentially scaring the daylights out of his patients with potentially false information.”

  “But not in this case,” Tennessee replied.

  It didn’t appear so. I only wished the ranch was closer. I understood now why James had asked me to be Tennessee’s husband. If we found he had died, she would not be alone. She needed someone, and I wanted it to be me. But I also wanted it to be James. She wanted James as well, loved him, I believed. If it were just she and I, something would be missing. Our marriage would not be the same because our marriage was me, James and Tennessee. Together.

  Tennessee swung herself down from the saddle before I could assist her and ran up the steps of the front porch. “James!”

  The door was wide open to the good weather and a man came out. Not James.

  He held his hand up and Tennessee came to a jerky stop, her breathing ragged.

  “Ma’am. I’m Doctor Hiller.”

  This wasn’t the usual town doctor who’d seen James previously. I’d never laid eyes upon Doctor Hiller before, but he was young—younger than me—with a calm demeanor and steady hands.

  “James,” she repeated.

  I took the steps at a slower pace, but was just as anxious.

  He gave a small smile and stepped to the side. “In the parlor.”

  Tennessee ran past and I followed, ignoring the doctor.

  There, on the couch, was James. He was lying sideways, head propped up on a pillow, his foot on another.

  He was alive, with what appeared to be a broken leg.

  Tennessee dropped to the floor by his head, cupped his cheek, murmured his name, kissed his face.

  “Kitten, I like you kneeling before me, but my cock’s not in your mouth.”

  The powerful scent of whiskey filled the air. James wasn’t dead, he was drunk.

  TENNESSEE

  He was alive. Thank the lord.

  “His horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and James was thrown,” the doctor said.

  I looked over my shoulder at him to see he now stood beside Jonah. If he heard James’ mention of my mouth on his cock, he didn’t care. I wasn’t going to bring it up. I didn’t care a whit about anything but James being alive.

  “The fibula was broken.” He looked between us. “He broke a lower leg bone. A clean break and I reset it. That’s why he’s drunk.”

  “I was so worried,” I told him. “God, if something happened to you…”

  “I’m fine, Kitten. Only a little drunk,” James said, then promptly passed out. I smiled at him and stroked his silky hair, took him in from head to toe.

  His right pant leg was torn from the hem to knee, his leg braced and wrapped in strips of cloth. His boot was off and the one foot bare. His shirt and pants were dusty from the fall, and of course, higher, the bruised eye.

  He did stink of drink and no wonder. I thought of the saloon Jonah and I had been in earlier. Whiskey, if I had to guess. If the doctor had to set a bone in my body, I’d want to drink heavily, too. Poor baby. Leaning in, I kissed his forehead.

  “That’s all?” Jonah asked.

  The doctor frowned. “He didn’t complain of anything else broken. He didn’t hit his head.”

  “What about his heart?” Jonah asked, and I held my breath.

  “His heart?”

  “The other doctor was here last week. Told him he had a bad heart.”

  The man ran a hand over the back of his neck. He was perhaps an inch shorter than Jonah, but twenty pounds lighter. He was quite thin, but amiable. “Doc Bruin is sick himself. Something is going about, probably the same summer cold James had last week.”

  “Some of the hands here have it as well,” Jonah informed him.

  He crossed the room, picked up his leather satchel and went to James. I stood and moved out of his way, going to Jonah. He wrapped an arm about my waist, keeping me close. We watched as he pulled something from the bag and used it to listen to James’ chest.

  I glanced up at Jonah, saw the calmness I now relied on. We waited patiently and watched.

  When done, the doctor put his listening device back in his bag.

  “His heart’s fine.” He stood to his full height. Sighed. Looked from James to us.

  James was fine? Well? Was it possible?

  “I think there has been some confusion on Doc Bruin’s part. James Kincade, down near Simms, died two days ago in his outhouse. Sounds a little odd, but it happens often enough. I won’t go into details, but he went from a bad heart.”

  “James Kincade?” I asked, thinking that sounded quite similar to James Carr. “I did not know him, but I’m sorry for his family.” My relief was at someone else’s sorrow.

  The doctor shook his head. “He was eighty-five and as cantankerous as they come. I think he’d be pleased to know his sons found him with his pants down.”

  The doctor smiled. He was familiar with death and perhaps thankful when it came easily and swiftly, or in the case of Mr. Kincade, after a full life.

  “I believe Doc Bruin mixed up James Carr here”—he tipped his head toward James asleep on the couch—“and James Kincade. There’s about fifty years between them, so I have to wonder if it’s time for the old doctor to enjoy a retirement.”

  The reality of the moment settled upon me like a heavy blanket. James truly wasn’t dying. He didn’t have a bad heart. I couldn’t help but sink against Jonah in relief.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said. “We’ll be pleased to tell James the good news.”

  “When his head clears,” Jonah added.

  JAMES

  When I woke up, several things were quickly apparent. My head ached, my mouth felt as if it was full of moss from the creek bed, my leg throbbed propped up on a pillow and Tennessee was asleep sprawled on top of me.

  I stroked her hair, but she didn’t stir.

  “Here,” Jonah murmured, handing me a glass of water. Propped up as I was, I drank it down greedily, then handed it back. “When did you return?” I asked, glancing toward him. He sat in the comfortable chair beside me, a book in his lap.

  It was still light out, but from the soft light, the sun was setting. I must have slept several hours.

  “You were awake for a minute when we arrived, but you were also full of whiskey.” He sat the glass upon a small table to his left. “Easy to see why you don’t remember. How’s your leg feel?”

  “Sore. Thankfully, the horse wasn’t injured.”

  If the animal had broken his leg in the prairie dog hole, he’d have been put down.

  “The doctor said you have to stay off it for at least a month.”

  I shifted my hip slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but didn’t want to risk waking Tennessee. I looked down at her sleeping face. Freckles were sprinkled like cinnamon sugar across her nose, her lips pink and full. She looked peaceful.<
br />
  It felt good to hold her, to feel her resting upon me.

  “I think I can find ways to amuse myself during that time,” I told him.

  “Yes, plenty.” I was pleased he felt equally inclined, for that meant while I needed to heal, he had no intention of curbing our attentions to our wife. Mine, especially.

  “You’re not dying,” he told me.

  I frowned, then stiffened, remembering my heart troubles. “What?”

  “Doctor Hiller checked you after you passed out. Listened to your heart.”

  “But Doc Bruin—”

  Jonah held up his hand. “Is too old for the job. Seems he confused you for James Kincaid.”

  “Who the hell is that?” I asked, trying to remember to keep my voice low.

  “An octogenarian over by Simms who died of a heart ailment. I think we need to see Doctor Hiller from now on,” he answered drily.

  “He listened to my heart, then said it was bad.”

  “He listened to your heart, then thought you were James Kincaid.” He shrugged. “While he is fit in body, it seems he is failing in mind.”

  I wasn’t dying. The doctor had been mistaken. Fuck.

  I sighed, a shaky smile spreading across my face. The relief made my not-sick heart pound, and I wanted to get up and dance around. Then I remembered my leg. “Hell, a broken leg’s a sure sight better than a bad heart.”

  “Indeed. I know you wished to wed Kitten yourself. Does it bother you that she has my name?”

  I looked to my friend, saw his open expression, his concern. The situation wasn’t going to change. He couldn’t un-marry her. She was Mrs. Jonah Wells, not Mrs. James Carr. But did it matter? She was sprawled across me. She had run into the house, worried about me, kissing my face. I’d made love to her. Fucked her. She was mine, regardless of name. This was what Bridgewater marriage was like, giving completely even beyond the boundaries of normal society. Thinking I was going to die offered some perspective.

  “I admit it did. But it doesn’t now. There’s no question she’s ours. We have her heart as much as I’ve given her mine.”

  “And I’ve given her mine,” Jonah added.

  Tennessee woke then, lifting her head so our eyes met. She blinked, then smiled.

  “Hello, Kitten.”

  She pushed up, then remembered my leg and stilled. I gripped her about the waist and held her in place. “Don’t go.”

  “I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It will hurt if you get up.” I lifted my hips so she could feel me, hard and thick against her belly.

  She rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t have been happier. “Even now?”

  “Always.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about what Doctor Bruin said?” she asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to scare you.” When she opened her mouth to say something, I cut her off. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” I stroked her hair, pet her like the kitten she was.

  “Since Mr. Grimsby’s house the other day, when we met out on the sidewalk.”

  I shook my head. “Two years.”

  Her pretty eyes widened in shock. “Two—”

  “Since the day I took Abigail to school. I saw you then, and I was done for.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  I nodded. “You had on a pale blue dress, the same color as your eyes. Your hair was tied back with a velvet ribbon. You were outside and the wind picked up. The ribbon came loose and it blew away.”

  “I… I remember that.”

  “Jonah, go over to the desk, open the top left drawer.” I reached out, pointed across the room.

  He did as I asked and returned.

  “My ribbon!” She reached out and took it from him, ran her thumb over the softness just as I had hundreds of times.

  “I’ve thought of you as mine since then.”

  “He has, Kitten,” Jonah verified. “He’s spent many a winter night telling me all about you. I didn’t know about the ribbon, but I’d say you were claimed.”

  “Why didn’t you introduce yourself? Say something?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

  I tapped her nose. “Because you were too young. You weren’t ready for marriage.”

  “I was ready for you. I saw you, too,” she admitted, a pretty flush brightening her cheeks. “I was just a school girl, your sister’s friend. I… I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

  I squeezed her again, felt every soft inch of her lying atop of me, then slid my hand down to cup her bottom.

  “Does it feel like I’m not interested?”

  “If we hadn’t kept it a secret though,” she said.

  “There are quite a bit of secrets,” Jonah added.

  I looked his way.

  “Tell him, Kitten.” Jonah’s voice deepened, but remained gentle.

  She looked to him. “Yes, Sir.”

  And so she told me about her day. All of it. She began with arriving at the ranch, meeting Abel and how he’d barely offered her a hello. Jonah shared the disastrous conversation he had with his son.

  “He’ll come around. He doesn’t have a choice,” I told them. Not that having him resigned to our marriage was what any of us wanted. Even though Abel had sounded like an arrogant prick, he and Jonah got on well. I hoped that would continue.

  “I overheard some of the conversation and became… upset. I thought… I thought Jonah had married me solely because he had to.”

  Jonah grunted as a reply and took Tennessee’s hand.

  My leg throbbed and my head ached from the liquor, but I grasped her words.

  “Oh, you mean because of your first marriage.”

  Jonah nodded. “I’d been trapped. Twice, but I made it very clear, didn’t I, Tennessee? I was pleased to be caught by her.”

  I looked between them, saw something different. Their glances were more open, more intimate. I felt… left out. “It could have been you instead of Jonah.”

  “What? Caught with my cock in your mouth?” I remembered the wet velvet feel of her tongue licking me, the sweet suction that had emptied my balls.

  She blushed, but nodded.

  “Kitten, I was caught the second I saw you,” I added. “I admit, I wished I was the one who’d said the vows in church, but it doesn’t matter. You’re mine and you’re not getting rid of me.” I meant those words, now especially. I wasn’t going to die. Well, not any sooner than anyone else.

  She tilted her head to the side and offered me the prettiest smile. Leaning in, she kissed me gently, as if my lips had been broken, not my leg.

  “Her sisters are here,” Jonah said and Tennessee pulled away.

  I looked over her shoulder as if they’d been hiding.

  “At my house,” Jonah clarified. “We were in Travis Point, and they had just arrived on the stage from Butte.”

  Her eyes lit up with excitement. “They are! Ginny is married, and the three of them—Ginny, Tom and Georgia, wish to settle here. They’ll stay at Jonah’s house until they find a place of their own.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Tunbridge is in heaven.” With Abel grown and no longer in need of a mother-figure, she was surely a touch bored taking care of two bachelors.

  “I’m sure. We didn’t even make it to the house when Abel met us with the news of your injury,” Jonah offered. “We came directly here.”

  “That is exciting about your sisters,” I said, happy she would have some family with her, especially with her father being a fucking bastard. And dead. “But why were you in Travis Point?”

  They were to go to Jonah’s ranch, meet Abel and Mrs. Tunbridge, perhaps stay for lunch and return.

  “Tell him everything, Kitten,” Jonah added. “About Grimsby.”

  “Grimsby?” I snarled.

  Tennessee took a deep breath, let it out. So did I, for I had hoped to never hear that name again. I adjusted the pillow behind my head and she began, telling me about the man sent to harm her sisters, how she’d intended to save th
em. By the time she was done, I wanted to head to Butte, yank Grimsby from the jail cell and beat the life out of him.

  “They are safe then,” I said. “Whoever was sent to Fargo will give up and return and find he no longer has an employer. He has no reason to continue the search if he won’t be paid.”

  Jonah nodded. “My thoughts exactly. And Virginia Bennett now takes her husband’s last name. None of them favored Butte, so I doubt Georgia will ever be known to the man.”

  To know what she’d been carrying about and realize we’d misunderstood her, it was clear. She wasn’t rebellious; she was brave. Fierce, even.

  “I won the money I’d wanted. I played poker in a saloon! Don’t worry, Jonah was beside me,” she added, patting my chest.

  She was so eager about it, and I glanced to Jonah. He nodded, but said nothing about it. I would get the details from him later.

  I looked to her. “We made assumptions about you, didn’t we, Kitten?”

  She bit her lip, met my gaze. “I didn’t make it easy for you.”

  No, she didn’t, and I doubted she ever would. I didn’t want her any other way. She was mine.

  “I’m sorry, Kitten,” I murmured, lifting my head enough to kiss the top of her head. “It seems you haven’t been a bad girl as we’d thought.”

  “Maybe I was a little,” she admitted, playing with the button on my shirt.

  “Oh?”

  “Because if I’m good, I won’t get any spankings.”

  She looked up at me through her lashes, her look hopeful and a touch bashful and a whole lot sassy.

  “Don’t worry your gorgeous ass any,” Jonah told her, leaning forward and giving her a gentle spank on her upturned bottom. “We like you a little bit bad.”

  My cock was hard now, thinking of getting her on her hands and knees again, this time fucking her.

  “Fuck, I’m hard,” I admitted.

  Carefully, she climbed off of me, taking Jonah’s hand to help her up. “You’re injured,” she said, looking down my body which only made me harder. “Your leg must but hurting. You can’t seriously think of doing… that now?”

  “He can think all he wants,” Jonah replied.

  I sighed. They were right. My cock would have to wait. At least for a little bit.