Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 3)

by Vanessa Vale

  "This lightning, explain," Mr. Rhys said.

  His dark eyes watched me carefully.

  "It's a feeling, when you meet the right person," I replied. "Uncle Allen wanted to ensure I didn't compromise on the man I was to marry."

  "You felt it with me?" I could see the hope in his eyes. Was the feeling reciprocated?

  I nodded.

  "And with me?" Mr. Cross—Cross—asked. His chin rested lightly on top of my head.

  Were they always this direct? Always so open about their feelings? Weren't men supposed to be the ones who never shared or showed any kind of emotion?

  I scrunched up my face and squeezed my eyes shut, dreading voicing my own feelings aloud. "Yes," I exhaled quickly.

  I didn't want to look at them, to see the horror or the amusement or the disgust on their faces at admitting my feelings for two men. Would they consider me loose and immoral?

  "And what about me, lass? Think ye can feel something for me as well?" Mr. McPherson's words were thickly accented, so much so that the word well sounded more like wheel.

  I peeked out from around Cross' arm to look at Mr. McPherson. Gone was the look of a harsh warrior, a man ready to conquer the world and slay dragons as necessary. Instead, it was a man with the corner of his mouth tipped up and question in his eyes. He was the biggest of the three men, with dark hair that was overly long, a square jaw and a blunt nose that had a crook in it. He was handsome in a rugged, brutish sort of way, but when he looked at me so endearingly, I could see he was gentle as well.

  I could also discern the worry on his face, for it seemed these men did things together, including marriage, and if I did not like all of them, one would be lost, perhaps cast adrift and alone. Mr. McPherson had much riding on my answer. In that moment I realized perhaps I could hurt him more than someone as sinister as Mr. Peters.

  "I cannot say, for I do not know you."

  "Then we will change that," he murmured.

  "You don't think there's something wrong with me then? I am not wanton," I stated baldly.

  Simon's gaze lowered to my lips, then raked over my body. "Nay, lass, we dinna ken a thing wrong with ye."

  Cross shifted me in his arms so that my head rested against his arm and he was looking down at me. "You can be wanton for us any time you wish," he offered, then said with more seriousness, "I felt it, too, Olivia, when we were dancing, and having you now in my arms...."

  I saw something flare in his eyes, bright and hot, before he looked at my mouth. "I am going to kiss you."

  He didn't give me time to think, or to refuse, or to even push myself from his arms before his mouth lowered to mine. His lips were warm and soft and gentle as they brushed over mine as if he were learning the curve of my lower lip, the corners of my mouth. All at once I felt hot all over and I was quite glad he held me so surely, for I would have slid off his lap and onto the floor otherwise.

  To my surprise, my eyes had fallen shut and I had to open them to look up at him, at the first man to kiss me and saw him smile. "Again," he murmured, then kissed me once more, this time deeper, which elicited a surprised gasp from me and he used that to his advantage, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

  His tongue!

  The idea was stunning and yet this was most definitely what wanton felt like. Tentatively, I touched mine to his and it was Cross' turn to groan. The sound had my heart pounding, had me feeling triumphant that I could actually please him with a simple kiss.

  "Share," Rhys grumbled.

  I felt Cross smile against my lips before he pulled back and propped me upright in his arms. "Ah, it seems I am not the only one who wishes to kiss you, love."

  I knew my cheeks were bright red, for it was one thing for a woman to have her first kiss, it was another altogether to do it with two other men watching. So enraptured, I'd completely forgotten they were there.

  Was I supposed to just get up and move on to the next man? It seemed awkward and very bold to do so. Before I could decide what I should do, Rhys pulled me out of Cross' arms and onto his own lap. He grinned down at me, the look wicked and friendly at the same time. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you at the dance."

  I frowned. "I thought...I thought you were mad at me for questioning your honor."

  "We have a higher standard to which you are accustomed, but no, I was not mad."

  "Then you are willing to marry a woman just because you want to kiss her?"

  He ran his knuckles over my cheek. "I want to do more than just kiss you."

  I had a vague idea to what he referred and I was equally pleased and petrified.

  "It's like you said, love. I just knew."

  "Really?" I asked, surprised. He’d seemed so indifferent when the dance had ended. Then I remembered his vehement demand that I promise to seek his help if needed, and felt better.

  He lowered his head and said, "Truly." I could feel the words against my lips then only the delectable pressure of his mouth on mine. Other than his lips on mine, the two kisses were completely different. Where Cross coaxed and played, Rhys delved and claimed. He angled his lips over mine and plunged his tongue into my mouth as if he needed me to breathe, as if he put his all into the kiss. My hands tangled in his hair, the feeling of silk slipping through my fingers. He tasted of peppermint, completely different than Cross. Even his scent was different. My skin tingled on my chin where his whiskers rasped.

  "Does it feel as if we are strangers, love?" he asked, his nose brushing against mine.

  I put my hands to my lips. They felt swollen and slick and hot.

  "It feels as if you belong to me. To us. You are ours."

  My body...it felt as if, as if...I couldn't explain it. I felt...hot and relaxed and tense and desperate and needy and confused and so many other things all at the same time. Beneath that, though, I felt...home. It was as if these men were familiar to me yet completely new all at the same time. It was quite strange and I did not readily understand, and as I felt prone to babble when nervous or overwhelmed, I decided it was best if I remained silent.

  "Ye will have three husbands, lass, nae two." Simon murmured, the fiercest looking of the bunch, held out his hand in the space between us and sat patiently waiting. His dark pants were drawn tight over well muscled thighs and his shirt—snug over his broad shoulders—only defined how broad, how big, how, oh, enticing he was. He was letting me decide when, and if, I'd come to him next.

  The room was quiet; only the ticking of a clock on the mantel and my soft panting breaths could be heard. Where my uncle and his...family went, I had no idea. I met Simon's dark eyes, searched for something, anything that indicated that he would treat me falsely, that he had less honor or integrity than the others.

  I had to trust that these feelings I had were an accurate indicator of these men—men—being right for me. I'd waited for it all my life and now, once it happened, I was uncertain. I had to take a blind leap of faith, and Simon, Cross and Rhys were as well. They were sure, so very sure of this match and I was as much a stranger to them.

  I climbed from Rhys' lap and placed my hand in Simon's. Placed my faith, my blind trust and hopefully my heart with him. With all three of them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SIMON

  It was right then, when she looked at me with those ice blue eyes that held such nervousness, fear and hope that I kent Rhys and Cross were correct. She was the one for us. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. The dark hair and light eyes was a striking combination. While she was covered from neck to floor in her uncle's heavy and unflattering robe, I'd caught a quick glimpse of her in her own flimsy nightclothes and had seen her woman's shape. She was so small that I seemed a giant in comparison and I would feel terrible if I hurt her with even the most gentle of touches. How was she going to handle three men whose sexual needs were prolific enough where we would make almost constant use of her body? She would love it, we would ensure that, but just looking at her had a cock stand press painfully against my pant
s.

  There was nae question to her virtue; the woman was a virgin and a very innocent one at that. I'd wager a bottle of the finest Scottish whiskey that she'd just had her verra first kiss, her first contact with a man. With men. Now I knew why my brothers—while our brotherhood was nae from blood, we were brothers nonetheless—were so adamant about her at the saloon. I would have reacted the same, ye ken. Nae harm would come to her again, nae while I was alive. And if I died protecting her, I would ken that Rhys and Cross would be there for her. That was the way in Mohamir and we respected the practice enough to want to live it ourselves. It had only been a dream, until now.

  Now, Olivia's hand was in mine and I knew she was offering up more than just a simple touch. She was giving me things she didn't even know we would take. With that came trust and I wouldna do anything to tarnish that. Instead of setting her upon my lap as the other two had, I pulled her into the cradle of my legs so she stood directly before me, placing her hand on my chest. I wanted her at ease with me, a complete stranger.

  As I held her gaze, my hands moved to her waist and they spanned her completely, my thumbs touching in the front, fingers at her spine. Her breath escaped in shallow pants and her eyes widened.

  "Perhaps the order was a bit off, but since I'm to be yer husband, I should introduce myself. I'm Simon Angus McPherson of the clan McPherson, although these days I hale from Bridgewater. I may have been a wee lad in the Highlands, but I belong here, in the Territory."

  I heard the knocker on the front door and Olivia's body tensed beneath my palms. "Nay, lass, tis only the minister."

  She furrowed her brow. "You don't think I should be nervous of a minister at a time like this?"

  I couldna help but grin at her sass. "Tis the man who avoids the parson's noose, nae the lady. Dinna worry, for the man will only change yer name, the rest," I paused and brushed her hair back from her face and then cupped my hand at her nape, "we will change as we go along. All four of us. Together."

  She eyed me closely, as if testing the truth behind my words. "Surely the minister will not marry a woman to three men. The acceptance of such ways must only have a certain reach."

  I offered one curt nod. "Aye." I glanced over her shoulder at Rhys and Cross, who sat casually upon the sofa, watchful yet alert at the same time. "Ye'll marry me to make it legal, but that is just paper, lass."

  Voices came from the front entry and Olivia wanted to step away, so I let her.

  "This is happening so quickly. It's overwhelming. All of it. I'm—"

  I pulled her back into my hold, this time letting my hands roam up and down her back in a soothing way. "Ye are fine. Yer uncle is content as his only worry is for your safety and he's handed that protection to the three of us. Do ye ken we'll let anything happen to ye?" I gestured to Rhys and Cross as well as myself. "Ye are the center of our world now, ye ken."

  The Tannenbaums came into the room along with the minister. Olivia stepped out of my hold and took a deep breath. The man of God was in his fifties and wore his white clerical collar along with his dark pants, white shirt and long robe. Obviously he was awakened and brought from his bed with haste, but his smile was amiable for such a late hour. It was easy to forget everything when I had my hands on Olivia, but the reason for the swift nuptials was not going to go away when the sun rose. We needed to get Olivia out of Helena and away from the bloody bastard Peters.

  "...so pleased you could come at such a late hour, especially after the dance. You remember my niece?" Weston spoke with the minister as he came into the room. We stood at their approach and Olivia was pulled into a discussion with the two about some charity luncheon that was to occur later in the month.

  The Tannenbaums stood to the side but seemed not the least put out by the unusual evening, even with their wardrobe of nightclothes as a reminder. Perhaps it was that their secret was shed that had them at ease.

  "I am quite pleased to be woken for a wedding. Most often it is because someone has passed on in the night, and it is such a sad affair. This reason, however, and for you, Olivia, is very good indeed. Now, then, which man is your lucky groom?"

  "I am." I moved to stand beside Olivia, my hand on her shoulder, there for not only reassurance but also to prevent her from dashing off if she decided to change her mind. "Simon McPherson."

  I shook the minister's hand as he looked me over. If he had concerns, he kept them to himself. Perhaps he knew Weston well enough to know he wouldna just marry his niece off to just anyone.

  The minister cleared his throat with mild embarrassment. "Your uncle has given me a brief history as to what has happened this evening, therefore I will not need to ask the usual questions as to the reason for a hasty wedding."

  Olivia's chin came up and I saw her cheeks flush a bright red. The color crept down her neck and beneath the robe and I had to wonder how far it traveled.

  "Shall we begin, sir, for I would like to finally kiss her and I'd like to do it the verra first time with her as my bride."

  The minister kept the ceremony blissfully short, only asking the most minimal of questions before pronouncing us husband and wife. Cross and Rhys had stood on my right while Weston stood beside Olivia, but I forgot all of them when I cupped her jaw and lowered my head to kiss her. This woman, she was my bride. She belonged to me in the eyes of God and her uncle and nae one could change that. The thought had pride filling me, and lust as well. Her lips were soft and tentative, yet when I lifted my head from the very brief, very chaste kiss, her eyes were blurry with awakened arousal and that pleased me verra greatly. The fact that I couldn't toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the nearest empty room so the three of us could have our way with her, only had my jaw hardening. Olivia's eyes widened at my change in demeanor, but I ran my thumb over her silky cheek in the hopes to soothe her, and ease my ache to touch.

  Hearing Weston thank the minister had me breaking out of my reverie. I turned to the man and thanked him for his service and Roger Tannenbaum led him away, most likely allowing the man to finally get back to his bed.

  "May we remain here until the morning instead of returning to the hotel?" Cross asked. "I believe Olivia would be more comfortable doing so."

  Melinda Tannenbaum smiled. "Of course. I've ordered a bath to be delivered to the blue guest room. Up the stairs and down the hall to the right. Olivia, you know where to go."

  OLIVIA

  Because I knew the house—I'd visited frequently all my life, and now I knew the true reason as to why—I led my husbands to the bedroom where they were going to take off my clothes and take my virginity. How three men did that I had no idea, but being the one to voluntarily guide them to my own deflowering made me very nervous. Nervous? No, that wasn't accurate. Petrified, embarrassed, worried. What if they found me lacking? What if I wasn't good at whatever I was supposed to do? How could I please them if I knew I wasn't good at…whatever? How did I make them happy when I had absolutely no idea—?

  "Breathe, lass," Simon murmured, stopping before me as he passed through the door I'd opened. "Tis nae a hanging."

  While I knew he was trying to make light of the situation, it didn't help. In fact, it only had me bursting into tears.

  I covered my face with my hands and couldn't stop crying.

  I heard one of the men swear beneath his breath, the door close quietly and then I was picked up in someone's arms and carried across the room. There, he sat and I was held, hands stroking over my body. The hands had to belong to more than one man, for I felt gentle touches on my legs, my side, even over my hair all the while being held tightly and securely within a snug embrace.

  "Shh, it's all right, love, you've had quite a day." Rhys. I recognized his voice.

  "Aye, verra brave." Simon's thick burr.

  "You're safe with us. All will be better now." Cross. His words swiftly changed my emotion from sad and overwhelmed to anger. I lifted my head and turned toward his voice. I was held in Simon's arms with Cross and Rhys squatting before me. Con
cern was evident in their eyes, but I didn't care.

  "I'm safe with you?" I lashed out, the three men my verbal victims. "I'm supposed to give myself to you, or you, or...or you and I have no idea what to do? How do I please three men? And better? How do you know things will be better? Someone set my house on fire and you think because we're married everything is better?"

  Two sets of eyebrows went up before me, one dark, one light, surprised by my vehement tone and long windedness.

  "Things will be better because you have us to protect you from the likes of Peters. In the morning we will take you back to Bridgewater where you will be safe." Rhys' words were laced with absolute certainty. "It may not make the problem with the man go away, but it makes your involvement in it end. You do not need to worry any longer, as you need to let your uncle take care of Peters and we will give help to him if needed. I know he is a smart man, for he gave you to us, didn't he?"

  I opened my mouth to speak but Cross put a finger over my lips. "How do you please three men? Trust me, love, you've already done that by marrying us. As to the rest, it is our job to teach you." He tapped my lips once then pulled his hand away.

  "Ye can do nae wrong," Simon added, using his thumbs to wipe my tear stained cheeks.

  His gentle actions wiped my ire away.

  "I can do no right if I don't know what to do," I countered, sniffling.

  "Are ye afraid?"

  I sputtered. "How can I not be?"

  The men looked at each other over my head and it seemed as if they spoke without saying a word.

  "We will not take you tonight, Olivia, for you are tired and you will need your rest for what we have in mind," Cross told me. "Besides, it will be hard for you to keep quiet and I want privacy for when we take you."

  "Why will I make noise?" While I tried to sound calm, I could hear the panic in my words. "You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

  Rhys smiled. "No, we are going to do quite the opposite. It's going to feel so good that you won't help making noise."