Their Reluctant Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 6)

by Vanessa Vale

  Not in her soft curves or the way her hips swayed as I walked beside her. Not in the long, slim column of her neck. Not in the pert turn of her nose. She may not have been wrongly convicted of a crime, but she’d been hurt. Had her husband been the sole culprit? Cruel parents? She was too young for much more. Regardless, I felt a kindred spirit with this woman and I hadn’t even said one word to her.

  “You do not have to escort me any longer. I assure you, I know the way home.” Her long dress swished against the grass.

  Her short legs ate up the distance toward the ranch house and I slowed my gait to match hers.

  “I am envious of you,” I said.

  Her head whipped around to look up at me, her eyes narrowed. “Envious? Of what, that my husband is dead? That my ranch is to be taken from me? That I have no place to go? That I am penniless?”

  No wonder she looked wounded. She had a heavy burden to carry. She bit her lip as she most likely realized she’d revealed too much to a stranger.

  “That Olivia is a friend who cares for you enough to play matchmaker.”

  She stumbled at my words and I grabbed her elbow to keep her upright. When I didn’t release it, she eyed me suspiciously.

  “Olivia is a good friend,” she confirmed, squinting up at me in the bright sunshine.

  I turned us so she would not face the glare.

  “She and her husbands believe we should marry.”

  “You do not mince words,” she countered.

  “Bridgewater men know their woman on sight. If they believe we are well matched, then I believe it to be true.”

  She tilted her head and studied me. “What do you think?” Her deep voice prodded.

  She was very perceptive. She was not being matched to any of the Bridgewater men, but to me and Tyler.

  “I had not considered marriage—until about twenty minutes ago. I believe the men are all correct, that Olivia is correct.”

  “Oh?” she asked. I started to see her cool demeanor slip as I spoke.

  “Lightning.”

  Her eyebrows went up and her mouth fell open. She knew to what I spoke, for Olivia must have explained it to her. It was how she’d felt when she met her men. It was how Tyler’s mother described it, how he imagined it to be. Did Tyler feel it when he saw Emily? What I felt, it perhaps wasn’t love at first sight, but the connection, the spark was palpable. It scared the hell out of me, for I was not a good match. I had dark places inside me, rough edges, a cool demeanor. I liked to fuck dark and rough. Surely Emily was too soft, too gentle to be handled in such a way.

  “The topic is moot, for you have just lost your husband. I would not dare intrude on your grieving for him. To take what you shared with him lightly.”

  I would never seek interest in another man’s woman, even a man who was alive only in spirit.

  She started laughing then. Turning, she began to walk back toward the house as she continued. I frowned, but fell in step beside her long enough to grab her arm and stop her.

  As she wiped the tears from her cheeks, she said, “I do not mourn Frank. To the contrary. I am glad that he is dead. Unfortunately, his reach is strong from the grave.”

  The tone of her voice confirmed the truth of her words. It seemed they had not had a love match; that her tired and weary features weren’t caused by mourning, but something else.

  “He left you with nothing,” I added, confirming her problems. Olivia was right, she had to wed. There was nothing else for her to do here in the Montana Territory. There were no appropriate jobs to be had. Even if she found a position as a laundress or even a house maid, she would have no protection, no man to keep her safe. The idea of her all alone left me cold inside.

  She would be forced to leave town, to go to a larger city like Helena or Billings. But how would she make the journey? If the bank was to take the ranch, she would be left with the clothes on her back, no coins for food, let alone the stage. The burden she carried was heavy.

  “That is true.” She looked down, perhaps hoping to hide her feelings from me, and smoothed out her pale blue dress. “I do not know you, Mr. Xander, or Mr. Tyler either. I will not go from one bad marriage to another under the guise of protection. The protection I needed in my marriage to Frank was from Frank himself.”

  I couldn’t argue with her, for she was correct. She didn’t know me from Adam. Why would she want to shackle herself to two husbands when she hadn’t even liked the one she’d had? Neither Tyler nor I were Frank Woodhouse, though. We wouldn’t hurt her. While I would offer her the baser aspects of fucking—and being claimed by two men at once—she would always be given her pleasure. She would be cherished and sheltered, protected and possessed. We were the men for her and she would just have to come to discover that.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EMILY

  As I helped the women collect dishes and plates, bowls and platters from the picnic tables and place them in baskets to be taken home, I tried to be involved in the conversations that swirled around me. While the women from town had always been wary of Frank, they’d never been fearful of me. They often veered away from us when we were together, but I had never been bothered by it, for I understood. With him gone, they had been nothing but kind throughout the picnic and I was glad I’d come. It was hard to keep up with the chatter as I kept an eye on the two men who had come to the house. I’d been coaxed back to the wagon and we rode to town in silence. Once Mr. Xander had lifted me and Olivia down from the seat, the men had tipped their hats and gone off to fill their plates. I hadn’t spoken with them since. But, every time I looked their way, one of them was watching me. They weren’t very subtle about it either. Often, I had both of them plus several of the Bridgewater men eyeing me. My cheeks heated every time and I turned away.

  Their suggestion—even Olivia’s matchmaking—was preposterous. They didn’t know what went on in my house, what I’d endured, what I’d done. Surely, neither man would want me when they learned the truth. If the sheriff and the undertaker hadn’t discovered it, then my secret went to the grave with Frank. That didn’t settle my mind though or ease the guilt that I felt. The weight of my actions was heavy on my conscience.

  Nor would either of the men want a woman who was penniless. My father had given Frank money to marry me—passed legally from one cruel man to another—and it had been lost at the gambling tables like water through a sieve. I had nothing to give either man except my body. No land, no house, not even any livestock. I wasn’t a nubile eighteen-year-old and I most certainly wasn’t a virgin. Wouldn’t they want some sweet, innocent thing to be their bride? Looking around, I counted at least five eligible possibilities that were much prettier than myself. But, no.

  I glanced at the men, who were leaning against one of the tables, metal cups in hand, drinking some of the beer that had been tapped from the cask that sat in the shady part of the creek. Their eyes were on me. One set fair, the other dark. Their gazes held heat and a promise of something very carnal. Was that what they wanted from me? Of course. Every man wanted to slake his needs in his wife’s body. These two could have any woman they wanted, even pay for a saloon girl or two. They didn’t need to wed anyone, let alone me. It was the why of it that I didn’t understand.

  “Mrs. Woodhouse.”

  A deep voice cut through my reverie and I broke the men’s gazes.

  Spinning on my heel, I was face to face with him.

  I took a step back, but he closed the distance. He’d said his name was Ralph when he’d come calling the other day. Frank had been buried only just that morning when he’d knocked on the door. He’d pushed his way into the house, knocking me back. The man was a brute. A bully. By the smell of him, he hadn’t bathed in some time. His dark hair was greasy and matted where it stuck out from beneath his hat. He’d refused to remove it. While it showed his lack of manners in front of a lady, I hadn’t needed that indicator. Nothing about him said gentleman.

  “I offered you the time to think you had a choice, Mrs. W
oodhouse.”

  I crinkled my nose at his foul breath. I retreated another step and this time he didn’t follow. The soft breeze helped cut the stench of his powerful body odor.

  “You will come to the back door of the saloon on Saturday night. You need not concern yourself with wardrobe, for I’m sure you will be outfitted with something more appropriate for your new role… or perhaps in nothing at all.”

  His eyes roved over my body and I felt dirty.

  I shook my head. “I am not responsible for my husband’s debts.”

  He grinned, showing off a gap in his lower line of teeth where a tooth should have been.

  “He owes me five big ones. You’ll pay it off or I’ll tell the sheriff how your husband died.”

  My eyes widened and I felt all blood drain from my head. Dark spots flickered around the evil man’s head.

  I took a deep breath, trying to keep from fainting. I wasn’t a fainter and I wouldn’t start now. “How… what? I do not know to what you speak.”

  He chuckled and waggled his eyebrows. “I guess frying pans aren’t just for cooking potatoes.”

  He knew. Oh, God, he’d seen me hit Frank. But how? It had been late at night. The house was dark. He couldn’t know.

  I waved my arms about the parlor. “Take what you want. Surely that clock or one of the horses should pay for my husband’s debt. You don’t need me.”

  He grinned, but it wasn’t with any kind of warmth. His hand came up to touch me, but I stumbled backward. The grin didn’t slip when he went over to the mantel and took the small clock, tucked it under his arm. “This,” he tilted his head to indicate the clock, “is only to appease me since you’ve taken so long to decide. I don’t want things, Mrs. Woodhouse. I want you. You will pay his debt. Come to town or I will drag you there by your hair.”

  “Mrs. Woodhouse, we’ve saved a piece of cherry pie for you.”

  The voice pulled me from my thoughts. Woodenly, I turned and saw Mr. Tyler standing to my right. When had he approached? In his hand, he did indeed hold a slice of pie.

  “Care to introduce me to your friend?” he asked, his voice deep. He eyed Ralph carefully.

  Relief washed over me as if I’d been dunked in a cold creek. “No, I think not.” I offered a smile, but was afraid that it was a tad brittle. “That pie looks wonderful. Thank you.”

  He held out his arm and I took it gladly, letting him lead me away.

  I glanced over my shoulder and Ralph stood where we’d left him, eyeing me.

  I turned away.

  “Was that man bothering you?” Mr. Tyler asked.

  With every step away from Ralph, the better I felt. I was so pleased to be away from the awful man I wanted to kiss Mr. Tyler for the rescue. Ralph, though, was my problem. What he knew was my problem. It was my secret to keep, my secret to solve. My father had given me to the first man who’d matched his ideas for a dutiful woman. I hadn’t met them and Frank had treated me accordingly. He’d lost all our money, hadn’t cared enough about me to keep me safe, to keep the ranch soluble. I could only rely on myself; that much I knew.

  If Mr. Tyler found out the truth, he could even have me thrown in jail. I wouldn’t go to prison after what Frank did to me so I would hold my secret safe.

  “While I did not enjoy his company, he was not bothering me,” I assured Mr. Tyler, making light of the situation.

  Xander approached, but watched as Ralph walked off toward the center of town, most likely to the saloon.

  “Is he our competition?” Xander asked, stroking his beard.

  I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. The sudden burst of energy from the argument bled away and I felt weary. Ralph was nothing like the two men before me. He had a paunch and was overweight. Jowls hid the line of his neck. He was also ruthlessly cruel. Nothing about the man was appealing, not one greasy hair on his head.

  Mr. Xander and Mr. Tyler, however, they were sheer perfection. Even with one being fair and the other dark, both of them were attractive to my feminine nature. They were tall and broad and brawny. Their size alone should have made them seem domineering and dangerous. Instead, they were dominant and powerful. I longed to be held in their arms, to be protected with their defined muscles.

  “You do not need to fear of that,” I told him.

  The picnic was ending. Families were either walking home or riding in their wagons, small children napped on blankets in the back. No one was near us. I didn’t even see the Bridgewater families any longer. The sun had moved across the sky, but it was still warm.

  “Olivia had us tell you goodbye. Her men took her home with some haste after the meal.”

  I could infer what that meant and my cheeks flushed. I was pleased for my friend, that she had men so doting and so eager for her. I felt a pang of envy at what she had and what I’d longed for with Frank, but never had.

  I gave a small nod in response, for what could I say?

  “I hope you will accept our escort home,” Xander added. By the tone of his voice and the way he didn’t word it as a question, I had to assume he was just being courteous to allow me to even think I could deny them.

  “You must know we wouldn’t allow you to go the distance alone,” Mr. Tyler added.

  They were both gentlemen and while their presence was unnerving, it felt good to know they were concerned for me. I’d taken the route to town many times on my own. Frank hadn’t cared.

  “Very well.”

  “Xander told me about your conversation.” I didn’t know to what Tyler spoke. When I didn’t reply, he continued. “About marrying us. You have my word—”

  “Our word,” Mr. Xander cut in.

  “Our word, that no man would bother you again.” He tilted his chin to indicate where I’d stood with Ralph.

  I couldn’t hold his gaze for I saw that he was earnest. Both of them were quite earnest in their words.

  “You don’t even know me!” I replied, stepping around him and walking away.

  “I don’t have to know you, I just have to know,” Tyler called.

  I shook my head and kept walking. I felt the truth of his words, for the men—crazily enough—called to something deep inside of me. I believed them when they said they’d protect me, and I could only imagine how it would feel to be sheltered in a man’s embrace. In two men’s holds.

  I walked past the open field where the picnic had been held and headed south toward home. Well, home for the next few days before the man from the bank came to remove me. I heard their footsteps behind me.

  “You’re running because you’re scared,” Tyler said.

  His words stopped me and I spun on my heel.

  “Scared? You’re damn right I’m scared!” I shouted, placing my hands on my hips.

  Xander did as well, mimicking my stance. “Language like that should not come from your mouth. If you were mine, I’d spank you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Xander. I was reacting to him on a visceral level. I wanted to strangle the man for being so presumptuous while my nipples tightened beneath my corset at the idea of him tossing me over his knee.

  “Scared of us,” Tyler clarified. “There’s no reason to be scared of anything else. We’ll protect you.”

  Protect me from Ralph? From being a whore? From jail or even worse, a noose around my neck?

  Was that even possible? Could they save me? Protect me like a well-muscled shield against that evil man?

  “We’d pleasure you, Emily.” It was the first time either of them had used my given name. When Mr. Xander said it, it was like the rough tumble of rocks. Dark and deep as his personality.

  My eyebrows went up. “Pleasure me? Like bring me chocolates and such frivolous things? That’s what you think I want?”

  Xander stepped closer, his eyes on my mouth.

  “I think you want to be fucked by two men who know what they’re doing. Who will put your pleasure, your needs first. I think you want us to take all your worries away, to make that pretty little head o
f yours forget about your troubles. By the fire in your eyes, that might just be from a good bare bottom spanking.”

  My mouth fell open and my cheeks flamed at his words. “How dare you!”

  “Emily, if there’s one person in all of Montana Territory who needs to submit, it’s you.”

  “Submit?” My heart beat so frantically against my chest I thought it might burst free. I was breathing hard and so unbelievably riled. These men had set me all a-dither. “I submitted to Frank for two years,” I shouted. Tears blurred the men and I furiously wiped them away with my fingers. “If that’s what you expect of a wife, then I want nothing to do with you.”

  “How we want you to submit is not the same thing at all, baby,” Tyler said, taking a step closer. “Giving us your troubles, your body, your trust. That’s submitting.”

  “Olivia submits to her men,” Xander added.

  Did she? I thought of my friend. Simon, Rhys and Cross wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head. In fact, they’d protect her with their lives. She didn’t appear cowed or belittled as a woman would who had to submit to her men.

  “So do the other women,” Tyler continued. “Laurel, Emma, Rebecca. The others, too. Do you think they’re unhappy?”

  They were the happiest women I knew. At the ranch, I saw the easy affection; holding hands, a brush of knuckles down a cheek, an easy kiss. I was so confused. I didn’t understand this type of submission, for I’d only known subservience and misery. I hadn’t been cherished, hadn’t felt a soft caress of Frank’s hand. He’d barely even kissed me. These men, they were offering things, expecting things from me I didn’t even understand. They were overwhelming!

  “You may have submitted to your husband, Emily, but he didn’t give you what you deserved in return. We will show you how it should be. Will be. We’ll do things to your body you never even imagined. You give us what we want and we’ll give you exactly what you need.”

  “By the confused look on your face, I’ll clarify,” Xander said. “We’ll fuck you. Your pussy, your mouth. Your ass. I bet your nipples are a pretty pink, tight right now inside that stiff corset. I like pinching them, tugging on them. I won’t be gentle, Emily. I can’t, but I swear you’ll love it.”