Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (10 page)

“Real wife? What the hell—?” Marshall leaned forward, dropping his voice. “You are loco if you think we’ll live here with a beautiful woman, one married to our partner, without enjoying the advantages of a wife.” He pointed his finger at Cole. “Who’s to say she isn’t just as eager to have us in her bed? We want children. She’s tiny, but she’s got the hips to bear them.”

“The only reason I’m marrying her is that our reputation, and hers, will be destroyed otherwise,” answered Cole with as much heat as his cousin. “I promised Sophie I’d keep Casey for the winter, and I keep my word. But the mother of my children will be a lady, like Grandma.” He turned to Byron, hoping for a better reaction. “Do you want to be treated like dirt because of the way your wife talks? Any children Casey has will grow up speaking just as bad. I will not destroy everything Grandpa and Grandma did for us just because I can’t control my cock.”

“Having a wife and not touching her is plain crazy,” said Marshall through clenched teeth. He threw up his hands at Cole’s glare. “Fine! You stay here while we go to Virginia City and get us a wife. Casey can cook, both women’ll share the chores, and the new wife will warm our bed.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “The bed Byron and I sleep in. Not yours.”

“I would not dishonor my wife by having another woman in her home,” declared Cole.

“Dang it, Cole, you can’t have it both ways,” said Byron between gritted teeth. “Think about Casey instead of your stubborn pride.” He swept his arm around the room. “Can’t you see all that she’s done to make this her own? She’s so proud of living in a place that has a floor, for God’s sake, that this is like a palace to her!” He winced. “Yours won’t be the only hard cock. I don’t like it either, but after all she’s been through, she might want nothing to do with men.”

“What do you mean?” asked Cole. “I’d stake my life on the fact she’s a virgin.”

“Yeah, but she had to fight damn hard for it. You’ve heard about how those men in the mountains treat women. Why do you think she carries that knife everywhere?” Byron slumped in his chair.

Marshall groaned. He leaned forward so his forehead thunked on the table.

“I vow on Grandma’s grave I will not dishonor her,” said Cole, ignoring Marshall’s theatrics. “I want you both to promise the same.”

“I’m not going to seduce a terrified virgin,” muttered Byron. “I want a woman in my bed, not a frightened girl. Trust me, I’m not going to do anything to hurt Casey.”

“Marshall?”

He sat up, chewing on his lip for a bit. Finally, he lifted his right hand, flat palm out. “I vow on Grandma’s grave that I will not seduce Casey Wright.” He exhaled, hard. “Damn, this winter’s gonna be even harder to get through than last year.”

“In so many ways,” muttered Byron. He shifted on the bench, adjusting his pants.

“I’ll ask Judge Thatcher to marry us before the big wedding on Friday,” said Cole. It wouldn’t be the kind of wedding he envisioned having, but it wasn’t as if it was a celebration. “A few words, a signature or two, and the problem will be taken care of.”

Marshall, who faced the stairs, loudly cleared his throat. Cole turned. The “problem” came down the stairs, naked toes first. The heat coiled in his body in memory of her form rose another notch. This morning those dirty, callused feet belonged to a boy. Now that he knew they were attached to slender calves, perfect thighs, and a peach of an ass, he saw them as exquisite. He squirmed as even more blood shot to his swollen cock.

Henry had been home with Charlie when Cole rode up to ask for one of Jessie’s old dresses. He’d laughed at Cole’s muttered explanation as to why he was there. Then he’d said he wondered how long it would take them to figure it out. Henry said it was the way Casey held Charlie, and the longing in her eyes, that had convinced him of her femininity.

When her waist came into view Cole realized Casey had put her corset on the outside of her dress. “Don’t you say one word,” he whispered fiercely to his cousins. “She may never have worn a dress before.”

She set both feet on the floor, turned, and glared at them. She held the corset to her front like a shield, arms crossed over it. Her face was patchy, red and white. She sniffed. Cole realized she’d been crying silent tears. He cursed himself for causing them, but it was necessary.

“Would you like me to do up those laces for you?” he asked softly.

“I know this thing goes under the dress,” she said in a small but furious voice. “But I cain’t do it up meself and I weren’t gonna let you see nothin’!” She turned her back and tilted her head forward.

“I guess that’s my answer,” muttered Cole. “Don’t either of you move so much as an inch.”

He lifted his bench when he stood so it wouldn’t drag and make her jump. He slowly walked across the room. He was going to have to touch her. His mouth went dry. Working from the top, he straightened her laces and gently tugged them snug. He kept his touch impersonal but his fingers still burned.

“You’ll have to adjust the front, Casey, to make sure your, um, you fit in right.”

She pulled the corset down, then up again. He imagined the breasts he’d seen, how they would fit the molded garment.

“I guess you couldn’t do the dress buttons up without the corset holding you in,” he murmured over her shoulder. Her ears got even redder. “Tomorrow we’ll get something looser, one that buttons in front.”

“I cain’t hunt in a dress,” she whispered. Her voice was tight and high.

“Of course not. So we’ll get you something soft to wear under your shirt and pants. New clothes are stiff. They’ll rub you raw without an extra layer.”

He couldn’t imagine putting marks on her soft skin. The memory of the red welts from her breast binding made him want to kiss away her pain. He hardened further at the image of kissing those raspberry nipples. But that must never, ever happen, except in his dreams. Or would they be nightmares since they’d be forever unfulfilled?

“I cain’t pay for no clothes.” Her voice was even higher now. “I won’t be beholden to strangers.”

He wondered how the hell to explain his plan to her. Best to start simple.

“We won’t be strangers. We’ll be family.”

She stiffened. “What’re you sayin’?”

“You can’t live with three men without marrying one of them. Judge Thatcher will marry us on Friday, before Walt and Emma’s wedding.”

“No!” She fought to escape.

He grasped her waist to keep her from running. His hands fit perfectly, right where her hips began to flare. It was both agony and ecstasy to hold her.

“Shh,” he whispered at her shoulder. “The marriage will only be on paper. I’ll be your husband, but I won’t touch you.”

“But—”

“None of us will touch you. You’re safe.” Cole paused. “Safe, Casey.”

God! He wished he could get his hands on Bart and any other man who’d scared her and flay them alive. Now he understood why Ross MacDougal had raged, sliced the head off Rivers, and rolled it down the street for his ravens to devour. A man had to protect those he cared about or he wasn’t a man. It burned him from the inside that he couldn’t protect her from what had already been done, yet he was still refused revenge.

He’d liked the hardworking boy who’d already changed their lives for the better. But he couldn’t let his feelings for Casey grow. By June she’d be far away, maybe in California with Willy. And by gum, he’d have a real wife by then. One who would provide a gracious life for all of them, and would raise their children to follow his grandparents’ traditions.

For that to happen, he had to keep Casey far away from him.

“You’ll sleep in the loft with Zeus,” he said gruffly, “and we’ll sleep down here. When the winter is over, we’ll have the marriage annulled.” Her forehead wrinkled. He sighed. She didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. “That’s what it’s called when a man and wife don’t consummate a wedding.”

“He means no sex, Casey,” said Marshall, jumping in loudly where he wasn’t wanted. “No long, passionate kisses. No fingers and tongues sliding over your—ow!”

“Serves you right,” said Byron as Marshall rubbed his kicked ankle. “I’m hard enough without you making things worse.”

Cole cursed both of them under his breath. Casey’s face was red, likely humiliated by their crude comments. He’d take them outside and thump them if he didn’t think the violence would frighten Casey even more.

“After the marriage is annulled, you’ll be Miss Cassandra Wright again, free to go on your way as if we never married.”

“I won’t be doin’ a wife’s duty?” She kept her flushed face down. The poor girl must be terrified.

“No. Just the chores we already agreed on.” He leaned forward and kissed the back of her soft neck. Her silky hair tickled his nose. She shuddered.
What the hell did you do that for, fool?
He had no answer other than he hadn’t thought. And he’d upset her and aroused himself even more. He released her and stepped back. “Don’t worry, that kiss was like shaking your hand on a deal. I won’t do it again. All better now?”

“Y’all want more gingerbread?” she whispered.

“Yes please, ma’am,” replied Marshall with enthusiasm. His eyes focused on Casey’s chest for a moment before sliding down.

Cole would have to speak to his cousins about keeping their eyes, as well as other parts of their bodies, to themselves. While Casey provided a strong temptation, they could do this. He’d tell Marshall to pretend she was Grandma and not the lovely young woman Cole knew her to be.

He watched her dainty bare feet cross to the stove. When she walked, her waist, revealed by the snug corset, emphasized the rounded hips which swayed with the natural rhythm of a woman. She turned sideways. Her breasts, supported by the corset, curved out enticingly.

“Oh, God,” he murmured so low no one could hear. “What have I got myself into?”

Casey paced across the small hotel room. She trembled like a spider web in the wind. She was about to be married to a man who said he wouldn’t touch her, yet every look he gave her said how much he wanted to. Byron and Marshall were the same.

She’d promised Mama she’d not touch a man unless she was married. In an hour she’d be Mrs. Cole Taylor. He’d have the right to use her body any way he wanted. As this was Tanner’s Ford, Byron and Marshall could do the same. She wasn’t afraid of what they would do with her. It was the
not
doing that had her almost jumping outside her skin.

For months she’d watched them in town, dreaming of what they might do if she was theirs. Once Judge Thatcher said a few words over them, she’d be Cole’s wife. If he didn’t want to touch her, fine. But it wasn’t right to stop her from enjoying Byron and Marshall!

Ever since she put on that dress, all three of them had tiptoed around her like she was a fancy teacup Mama told her about. Pretty, but easily broken. There were no more jokes, laughs, or comments made to sound like insults but were instead a way of saying they cared. They avoided her as much as possible.

Cole made it very clear he was only marrying her to keep his reputation as a gentleman. She was not good enough to be his wife, and never would be. Not only did she talk wrong, she was ugly. She must be, since he frowned and looked away every time she caught him watching her. Whether she wore a dress or pants, it was the same. It hurt, but at least his cousins didn’t act the same.

Sometimes she caught Byron looking at her as if he was interested, but he’d turn away if their eyes met. Marshall tended to brush against her, or make pleasing comments, when they were alone. He said she was pretty, and that Cole was a damn fool for not wanting her to be his forever wife. But he also said he’d promised Cole not to seduce her. Then he’d pouted and sighed like Tanner’s old dog when he collapsed in a patch of shade.

They all perked up when she wore a dress. The corset held her breasts so they didn’t get in the way, but it pushed them up, making them look bigger. It also snugged her waist in. She thought she looked better than some of the women back home. The three men tried to hide it, but she saw how their pants bulged out. They were just as interested in her as she was in them.

She’d barely slept the last few nights. It wasn’t nightmares that kept her awake. It was hard to sleep when every inch of her skin prickled from knowing three big, strong, men slept in a bed on the floor below. Men who could do wonderful things to her. She wasn’t sure how it would feel, but the other women had sighed and smiled broadly when they spoke of sharing their men.

If she had to wear tight dresses that made it hard to walk and do all the work of a wife, then she should have the good times as well!

She rubbed her thighs together, but it only increased the throbbing ache. She smoothed her calico dress with her fingertips. It was her best dress, but she didn’t feel like a bride. She remembered every detail Mama told her of the parties and weddings she’d attended. She’d dreamed of wearing a dress with lace and seed pearls. Mama said dancing slippers would be dyed to match a woman’s dress. She couldn’t imagine spending cash money on such things.

She slumped on the bed and lay back. It wasn’t as if anyone would care that her dress was wrinkled. She stretched her arms out, wishing she could share the bed with Marshall or Byron. Not Cole, because he was angry with her. She’d forced him to do something that wasn’t in his plans, and that was another nail in her coffin. He wasn’t rude, of course. That would not be gentlemanly. He thought she was afraid of him, and kept reassuring her that she would remain pure, that none of them would dare touch her.

Did they think she was scared of men? It wasn’t true, not at all. Yet he was determined to keep her virginity intact. Willy said it didn’t matter that she was called a Death Bride because no one out here knew of it. That meant the curse was gone. She had to believe him.

A quick knock had her scrambling to her feet. Instead of Cole demanding it was time to find the judge, Sophie McLeod entered. She was beautiful in yellow satin. A matching ribbon wound through her brown hair looked lovely. Casey’d never seen Sophie with her hair loose instead of tightly braided. She sat in a chair and arranged her dress so it didn’t wrinkle. It was another thing Casey would never think of doing.