The Bartered Bride [Climax, Montana 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “Jane,” he warned. “You’re stalling.”

  “Fine!”

  She lifted the hem of her skirt. It was tight so she had to wiggle to get it past her hips. Inch by inch he saw more of those legs. Her thighs had muscle, and her hips were wide in proportion to her waist. She stopped with the skirt just below paradise. The flash of bright green at the apex of her thighs must be her thong.

  Keep calm. Pretend she’s one of your cousins.

  He nudged Buster out of the way. Keeping a stern expression, he leaned closer. Her alluring scent almost knocked him to his knees. Later, he promised himself. It was not his favorite word but he was proud of his control, especially as Riley seemed to have none.

  “None on the front,” he said. “Turn around.”

  Jane huffed, but did as she was told.

  She needed to be strong, for now. But as soon as he could, he was going to take her in his arms and let her release all that tension. Not through sex. The thought of holding her, of comforting her with his strength, brought a feeling that both relaxed and got him wired at the same time.

  He wanted to prove his worth to her. He wanted to hold her and have her know, all the way to her soul, that he would never allow anyone to hurt her again. He also wanted to touch her naked body and give her one orgasm after another until she turned to jelly and begged him to take her, and then come with her. He wanted to watch her belly swell with his child, to see her put their baby to her breast.

  What the hell?

  He shook his head and concentrated on the job at hand. Jane clenched her ass cheeks so tight if a doctor gave her a needle anything in it would spurt back out.

  “You’ll have some bruises for a bit, but I don’t see broken skin.”

  He wanted to know her story, but now was not the time and place. For now, he would protect her from whatever she was running from. And that meant keeping her with him. Decision made, he took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. His cock continued to throb. He adjusted himself as best as he could while her back was turned.

  He’d give her a few days for her bruises to heal and then he’d see what happened. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him, he would make sure she was safe before letting her leave his protection. And that could take weeks…

  “All clear.”

  He tugged her tight skirt down. She wobbled, so he pulled her close but didn’t hug her. For a moment, she clung to him, then retreated. He hoped like hell she didn’t notice the hard rod between them. Or that she noticed, and would remember for future reference. She said nothing, so he figured she just needed a friendly hug. His admiration for her went up another notch. She had stubborn pride, something he understood. It had kept many local ranchers going when others had quit.

  He figured the nylon lining of her skirt would irritate her skin so insisted she put on his long cotton work shirt before climbing in the truck. He turned his back while she removed her skirt. The sound of that zipper slowly going down, then the rustle of her skirt coming off, was sweet torture.

  Buster jumped in first. Travis placed his shearling coat soft side up and helped her in. He shoved the seatbelt toward her. She blanched, shrinking into the seat.

  Damn, he’d forgotten about her being hit.

  She must have seen his hand coming at her head and taken it as an attack. Instead of making a comment about her reaction and upsetting her further, he gave her a lecture.

  “Seat belts are a must in my truck. I’ve had too many friends die from being hit by drunk drivers. They might have survived if they’d been belted in. Anyone who gets behind the wheel while impaired should be locked up and the key thrown away.”

  She gave a small cry, barely as loud as a kitten, and turned her head away. He cursed, thinking she must have lost someone the same way. He wanted to take her in his lap and rock her, for both their sakes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She looked down at her shaking hands.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, pretending she meant she couldn’t do up the seat belt. She sat up, rigid. He leaned across her, having to wiggle the belt until the latch caught. His shoulder brushed her breast as he retreated. Both of them jerked. He shut the door for her, then turned away. Driving without pain was impossible, so he cowboyed up and slid behind the wheel. Jane kept her face averted as he pulled onto the empty highway.

  “Buster will protect you from me,” he said when she stayed silent. He was only half joking and didn’t expect an answer.

  “I don’t need protection from you, Travis Adams.”

  * * * *

  Jane looked out the side window at nothing. She liked Travis. A lot. She thought he liked her, as well. But if he ever found out why her driver’s license was under suspension, he would kick her out of his truck.

  Buster shifted against her bottom. Her chest, tight with unsaid things, relaxed another notch. The fingers of her left hand strayed to Buster’s soft fur. She sifted through the silky strands. Right now, in this truck with this man and this dog, she felt safer than she could remember. It was an illusion, of course, but one she could cling to for a few hours.

  She needed to hide for at least a few weeks. She didn’t think her father would give up looking, but her track would get cold. She also needed to find new clothes, change her hair color, and put on weight. Unlike her sister, she was not rail-thin by nature, but her father insisted they look alike. That meant she spent her life hungry.

  No more. She could hardly wait to taste a warm brownie smothered in dark chocolate sauce, sprinkled with chopped pecans, and with dollops of French vanilla ice cream melting on top. Oh, yes!

  Would Travis and his brother let her stay for a while if she made herself useful? Thanks to her community service she knew how to cook and clean. Travis had promised her a room with a lock on the inside, but would he want more than housekeeping services? And what about Riley? He hadn’t promised anything.

  She snuck a peek at the cowboy beside her. It was dark, but she could fill in the details of his face, hands, and body. She’d trembled when his fingers touched her, igniting a near-overwhelming rush of sensations that almost overloaded her.

  If his fingers could do so much, she was confident intimacy with Travis would be something wonderful. But, once she knew what she was missing, would she then have to endure a life without it? She was torn, unsure if she could let down her guard enough to enjoy passion.

  She’d have to trust him. That would be a first. Yet she’d already let him touch her naked thighs and bottom, and he’d taken no liberties. She’d held him, yet he’d not demanded more. Even now, considering getting intimate with him did not make her fear him.

  Instead, the thought hardened her nipples, swelled her breasts, and made her pussy throb. Before getting in the truck she’d taken off her bra because it irritated the bruises on her back. Her nipples brushed against her silk shell with every breath. Though it was dark, she crossed her arms to hide those eagerly straining nipples.

  If she could contemplate sex, even look forward to the possibility, it meant that one day she might achieve her dream of becoming a mother. And if she did have a child, it would be raised with love and affection. Strung out on booze and pills, her own mother had crashed her car into a tree.

  Her father had used the death as a reason to keep Jane under guard. The only reason she’d been allowed to get her driver’s license was that the school had a course for all the girls. She’d delighted in the small glimpse of freedom driving lessons provided. Of course, he’d never let her drive again.

  Her right hand crept to her mouth. She bit her nail. A big hand tugged it away. She blinked at Travis. He shook his head. She flushed, embarrassed at getting caught in such a childish habit. She’d had suede mitts tied on her hands at bedtime for weeks until well after she’d broken the habit.

  “My older sister, Florrie, always wanted to have perfect nails and hair,” said Travis calmly. “She’d lock herself in the bathroom for what felt like hours until she was satis
fied. Mom, Dad, and Pop had their own bathroom in their suite. Us boys had to shower in the mud room off the back door. Sophie’s six years younger than Florrie, but that never slowed her down. She learned to pop the lock and she’d waltz in. Florrie would scream. Our parents finally set a timer for the bathroom.”

  “There’s four of you?”

  “Yep. Florrie, Riley, me, and Sophie. Each of us about two years apart. Along with a bunch of dogs, cats, and Dad, Mom, and Pop.”

  “Pop is your grandfather?”

  He gave her an assessing look turning back to the road.

  “Nope. My parents are named Keith, Aggie, and Donny Adams. I have two fathers. You got a problem with that?”

  Surely he didn’t mean his mother shared two men? Her arousal, shot to heck by the pain in her knees, surged to life at the possibility.

  “No, of course not,” she replied primly. She chewed her lip, wanting to ask the obvious question. “Do they, uh…?” She shook her head, feeling her ears burn. “Excuse me. That’s none of my business.”

  “It could be.”

  “What?” She stared at him, heart thumping. He chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Both my fathers love my mother, Jane.” He flashed her a heated glance. “Me and Riley are one hundred percent red-blooded hetero Montana cowboys. Neither of us has had a lady friend for some time. We expect to share a wife some day, if we can find a woman willing to put up with us.”

  Brown eyes suddenly met hers in challenge.

  “I…um.” She stared at him, her mind turned to mush. He winked, and the calm professional was back.

  “Just putting a few cards on the table, Jane. You can leave them there, or pick them up any time.”

  The heat that had pooled between her legs burst into flames. She looked out the window to cool down. Travis and Riley, and their sisters, had been raised with a mother and two fathers. How did a three-person marriage work? Did others in their town do the same? Was it expected, or did the women have a choice?

  “Ask me a question,” he said, jolting her from her thoughts. “Anything. Remember, you’re supposed to keep me awake.”

  “Will your sisters marry two men?” she blurted. He chuckled, making heat rise over her face. “I apologize,” she immediately said. “It’s none of my business.”

  His hand rested on hers for a moment, sandwiching it between Buster’s soft fur and Travis’s rough skin.

  “I was laughing at me,” he said. “Your question came from honest curiosity, Jane. And the answer is, no. My younger sister, Sophie, has a traditional marriage. If Florrie ever finds anyone who suits her high standards, she’ll do the same.”

  The food, warmth, and relative safety dulled her thoughts. She was too tired to think of a question that wouldn’t be too inquisitive, and would then give him permission to ask her the same. She yawned, hastily covering her gaping mouth.

  “This road is flat and boring,” he finally said. “I’m going to fall asleep if I don’t talk. You up for some Montana history?”

  “As in yours?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I can explain why I have two fathers, if you’re interested.”

  “I’d like to hear that.” If he volunteered information, he couldn’t insist she do the same. She also wouldn’t have to think. The adrenaline high that had kept her alert for so long had vanished. Listening to help him stay awake was the least she could do. If it was interesting enough, she might even keep from falling asleep herself.

  “I’m from the J Bar C Ranch, in Tanner’s Ford Valley. It’s now part of a small town called Climax, in southwest Montana. The same nine families have ranched there since about 1870. That was a few years after they found gold. Thousands of men went west to make their fortune. The women who trailed behind were mostly prostitutes.”

  “There wasn’t much else a single woman could do,” replied Jane. “Women were legal chattel of their father and then husband.” Her father believed the same of his daughters, using them as pawns to further his failing business empire.

  “The government wanted the land settled, and that required wives, so they set up special trains to bring them together. Adventurous women took a Bride Train to find a better life. That’s how the ranches in Tanner’s Ford were started, by strong-willed women choosing to find a better life.”

  That’s what she had done. Rather than be a pawn in a rich man’s game she’d escaped a wealthy life of constant control and ongoing humiliation. She would find that better life, or die.

  “Working a ranch by hand takes a lot of work,” continued Travis. “Three men owned each ranch and they worked the land together. All nine ranches were started by good friends, brothers, or cousins. If one of them could find a wife, and she was willing, it made sense for the three of them to share her.”

  Would she have agreed to share her life and bed with three men? If they were all like Travis, and the rest of the available men were like the ones she’d met growing up, she’d jump at the chance.

  “It’s down to two men each now,” he added.

  She hoped the light in the cab was dim enough so he didn’t see her red face. It must be red, as her cheeks and ears were burning. Her breasts and pussy had also reacted to his suggestive words, becoming even more aroused.

  What would it feel like if he touched her swollen flesh? Would he start out gentle, and become more demanding as her arousal grew? What if he gave her that commanding look and used the tone of voice that had shot a bolt of lightning through her? Just thinking about it made her tremble. She forced the words out before she lost her courage.

  “Including you and Riley?”

  He coughed, then shifted on the seat. He switched arms, putting his right palm on the steering wheel. Since the road was straight, with little traffic, he had no reason to concentrate so closely. His new position blocked her view of his chest, and hips.

  Or was it his groin he wanted to block her from seeing? She glanced down as a streetlight flashed past. Oh, my. There was no doubt that Travis was aroused. Her body responded eagerly. It was good that the thick cotton shirt he’d lent her went almost to her knees. Otherwise the soft sheepskin under her would be damp.

  He could have attacked her any time he wanted, and it was obvious he wanted sex, but he’d held her gently, then released her. She’d never intended to test him, to see if he respected her as a person. But he’d passed the test. No, a couple of tests. He had honor, and control, and all sorts of other attributes she’d rarely seen in a man.

  Travis might even have enough integrity to agree to, and follow, her boundaries. If Riley wasn’t so antagonistic to her, she might have asked Travis to help her overcome her fears of intimacy.

  They sat in the dark for over a mile before Travis’s deep voice filled the truck.

  “Yes, Jane. My brother and I plan to share a wife.”

  Chapter 7

  Jane froze at Travis’s declaration. He shifted on his seat, rolling out his shoulders to relax. Her semi-decision to consider the possibility of allowing Travis to touch her sexually, had just become far more complicated.

  Travis would want to share her with Riley. Two men touching her, with their fingers, and lips, and…? She opened her jacket, flapping the lapels to cool her face. She hoped Travis didn’t notice. She had to lighten the conversation somehow.

  “Where does the ranch name come from?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “It’s the name of the brand, and comes from the names of the three men who started the ranch. Jed Adams was the son of a Bible-thumping hypocrite. He married Victoria, the illegitimate daughter of a mistress. Jed and his cousins, Riley Jansen and Clint Fortune, were raised together by their maternal grandparents.”

  “Is that who your brother is named after?”

  Travis nodded. “According to my great-grandmother’s journals, Riley was a bit of a wild charmer. My brother is the same.”

  She gave a sarcastic cough. “Charmer? Ex-cuse me? Are we talking about the man who wanted to rip my head of
f?”

  He chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Don’t take it personally, Jane. You got him at a bad time. Don’t worry, he’ll be himself after a good night’s sleep. You look and sound like the woman who did her best to rip his heart out and stomp it into the ground.”

  * * * *

  Jane jerked awake. No truck rumble soothed her with white noise. She wiped a bit of drool off her lip. Buster still warmed her far end. Blinking at the lights, she slowly straightened. She was alive, and free, thanks to a Montana cowboy. Her white knight wore a black hat and blue T-shirt, but he was as handsome as a chick flick actor.

  Travis had opened his window, letting a cool breeze flow in. She inhaled, filling her lungs. It smelled fresh and clean, with a hint of the sea.

  “Are we there yet?” she asked, fighting a yawn.

  “Nope. Have to ride the ferryboat first.”

  “Ferryboat?” That explained the smell. She frowned at him. “Are we in Texas?”

  “Still in Texas, and going to be here for some time yet. Hey, look at that!”

  A big hand came toward her face. She jerked back, but the truck seat gave her no space. Her heartbeat shot to one ninety.

  “Dang it!” Travis exhaled as if angry and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. “I was just pointing out the pelican over there.”

  She pressed her palm against her heart, which was already slowing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her breathing calmed before she spoke. “I don’t know why I jumped like that.”

  His fingers tightened around the wheel, then relaxed, though he kept his grip. He blew out his breath all at once, then turned toward her, lips tight.

  “Yes, Jane, you do know why you jumped. Some bastard beat on you, so you automatically duck to protect yourself. That was your second social lie. Don’t make a third.”

  She didn’t like his attitude, but he was right. It was past time she stopped putting herself down or making excuses for others. Penelope had to fit into a false world, but not Jane. She could be, and do, whatever she wanted, as long as she accepted the consequences.