Their Reluctant Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 6) (5 page)

“Do you want us to bring the wagon or do you wish to walk?” Tyler asked, still following but not too closely. I was surprised by his question, for it was completely a different topic, but I was pleased he hadn’t continued the heated line of conversation.

“Walk,” I replied. And so I did. I walked the path to the house once again, but this time I had two men behind me the whole way. They didn’t say anything further until the house came into view.

“We’ll watch you from here,” Tyler said.

I turned. They were brightly lit with the setting sun. Little crinkles were at the corners of their eyes as they squinted.

“Thank you for escorting me home.” Good manners dictated the response.

“We want to marry you, Emily. We want you to be ours. We’ll give you some time to think about it. To decide. You know where to find us, if you need anything.”

Tyler’s voice was calm, but his intent was serious.

“Lightning, Emily,” Xander said.

Tyler nodded and smiled. “Exactly. It’s just like lightning.”

I didn’t answer, just turned on my heel and walked the rest of the way to the house. I had thinking to do. Plenty of it, and I feared my thoughts would be filled with those dominant men instead of how I was going to handle Ralph.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMILY

“Don’t hide from me! I will find you and when I do, I’ll tan a stripe off your hide, then you’re going to do your wife’s duty.”
 

The way he slurred his words and stumbled about, I knew Frank was drunk. Again. When he was sober, he ignored me, but when he came home full of rotgut whiskey and angry for losing even more money playing cards, he was downright mean.

He’d hit me only a few times, but more often than not, he’d come in late, drunk and eager to slake his desires with my body. I didn’t want him on top of me again, smelling of cigar smoke, cheap perfume the saloon girls wore and like the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He stumbled up the steps, swearing as he went.

I gripped the frying pan as I stood in the bedroom, waiting.

I wouldn’t hide, nor would I let him touch me. No more.

I saw his dark form in the hallway. It was a clear night and the moon shone brightly through the windows.

“There you are,” he barked. “Where the hell’s the money? It’s not in the jar in the kitchen.”
 

I stiffened my spine as I took a step toward him. The fact that he was more interested in gambling away our money instead of bedding me was telling. He was most certainly desperate. The frying pan was at my side and he’d yet to see it. It wasn’t the best weapon, but he’d taken the rifle with him into town. I had nothing else for protection besides the pan I used to cook him breakfast.

“I hid it,” I replied. I tried to hide the quaver in my voice, although he was probably too liquored up to hear it anyway.

“I owe Ralph that money. You go get it right now!” He waved his arms about.

I startled, but held my ground. I swallowed, then took a deep breath. “No.”

It was the first time I’d outright refused him. That money was for food, not to be lost in a game of cards.

“What did you just say?” Even in the dark I saw the dark gleam to his eye. “Why, you little—”
 

I screamed as he came toward me, his arm up, fist clenched and ready to strike. I was ready, too.

I dodged to the side and swung the pan with all my might. It made contact, hard, and I shuddered. The sound of a sickening crack filled the quiet night.

He slumped to the floor and I stood above his form. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing—I couldn’t hear his usual sluggish wheeze. I dropped the frying pan. It hit the floor with a loud thunk beside my bare feet.
 

I ran into the bedroom and lit the lamp, carrying it back into the hallway. Dropping to my knees, I couldn’t miss the way the side of his skull was bashed in. His eyes, so filled with hatred these past few months, stared blankly straight ahead.

I couldn’t leave him there. The sheriff would know. No one fell down and crushed the side of their head. I had to make it look like an accident, as if he were drunk and fell. The stairs! I pushed him, then recoiled back, at first afraid he would jump up and hit me. No. His eyes were vacant. He was definitely dead. Wincing, I pushed him closer to the stairs. His dead weight—I gagged once, thinking about what I’d done—made the work hard. By the time I had him precariously close to the top step, I was sweating in my nightgown. Resolute, I pushed with a deep groan. Down he tumbled, hitting step by step until he landed in a heap at the bottom.

Bile rose to my throat as I looked down at my dead husband. What had I done? I grabbed the lantern and ran for the bedroom, slammed the door shut.

***

I jerked awake with a gasp. Frank wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming after me. He was dead and buried and I was safe, at least from him. My nightgown was wrapped around me, my skin coated with a cold sweat. I took deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I
was
safe. I was alone in the house. I shuddered once, twice, remembering the feel of his dead body as I pushed him down the stairs.

Settling myself, I laid back down, pulled the covers up. Sleep wouldn’t come now. I tried to push away the knowledge that I’d killed my husband. It didn’t matter now. Everyone believed the tale I’d told. Why would they think other than what I’d said? Frank was a drunk. Everyone in town knew it. If he fell down the stairs after a night of hard drinking and gambling, who was going to doubt me? The sheriff himself had inspected the body and given me the death certificate with barely a question.

Except Ralph knew the truth. I didn’t know how, but he did. The fear returned, that gnawing worry in my belly. Perhaps he was bluffing, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t risk it. Frank had left me penniless and Ralph was after me for more. I’d offered him anything he wanted from the property; it all belonged to the ranch anyway. He only took the clock to show his power over me, but he wouldn’t relent. He knew it and still expected me to whore myself in trade.

Frank was as little help to me dead as he was alive. At least with him gone, I didn’t have to worry about him coming home drunk and wanting to use my body. I didn’t have to worry about him stealing the food money to gamble away. I’d been saddled to the miserable man for years. Unless I solved the problem about Ralph, I wouldn’t be truly free. He expected payment and come Saturday, I’d be his.

I thought of the families at Bridgewater. Olivia was married to three men. Three! Simon, Cross and Rhys were
nothing
like Frank. They were kind and caring and confident and they doted and loved on Olivia as if the sun and moon circled about her. They were also very protective and… dominant toward her, but she did not seem to shy away from that as I had from Frank. Just as Mr. Tyler and Mr. Xander had said, she submitted to them.

Did I want to submit to those two men? They offered marriage and all the promises that went with it. But did I want to marry them and let them be controlling and dominant and in charge? Would they be like Frank or like Olivia’s husbands? The possibility of those two taking away my burdens was powerful. I’d been a good wife, a dutiful wife to Frank, but he hadn’t been a worthy husband. Had that been the problem? Had Frank been the problem? Would they ease my concerns? Could they protect me from Ralph?

Of course, they could. I sat up in bed once again, listened to the soft sounds of the night. The men were my only option. If I married them, Ralph would have to leave me alone, to give up. He wouldn’t want to fight Mr. Tyler or Mr. Xander. There was no competition there. I knew from Olivia that they ran a cattle ranch over a day’s ride from Bridgewater. If I married them, perhaps Ralph wouldn’t even know where I’d gone. The men could literally take me away from my problems.

The price, however, would be my freedom. My body. My life. I’d have to give over to them in everything. They’d told me so in very carnal detail. They wanted to
fuck
me. Just the thought had my body warming. I pushed the sheet off my legs. What would it be like to have two men? Could I handle it? If Olivia could satisfy three men, surely I could meet two men’s needs. Couldn’t I? I wasn’t a virgin, or young. I didn’t know the first thing about any of the carnal things they’d mentioned. What if I wasn’t enough? What if I couldn’t please them?

I groaned. I was thinking in circles. The solution to my problems had stood before me. Two tall, handsome, powerful men. My bedroom abilities were the least of my concerns. I’d wasted an entire day thinking about them. Had they changed their minds? What if they’d found another woman who’d struck their fancy on their way back to town? Were they that dishonorable? I panicked at the possibility. Nothing could happen now in the middle of the night. There was nothing to do except wait until morning, put on my best dress and ride to Bridgewater and find out.

XANDER

I couldn’t believe she’d knocked on the door and agreed to marry us. She’d ridden to Bridgewater, to Kane and Ian’s house, specifically wanting us. Not to visit Olivia. When I’d come down the stairs and saw her standing there, heard the words, “I’ll fuck both of you,” from her lips, I’d been stunned. While I’d longed to hear a woman say those words, I’d never expected it to happen. It was hot as hell and absolutely scary.

Tyler had grown up knowing he had two fathers, that they married and shared his mother together. The dynamic of it was a way of life for him. I’d met all three of his parents and saw how well it worked, how the two men loved Tyler’s mother. They doted on her. Cherished her. Protected her.

I wasn’t worthy of a wife of my own, my background being shit. What woman—even a desperate widow—would want a convict for a spouse? I hadn’t had one parent, let alone three like Tyler.

But I wanted her and I’d told her as much. It didn’t mean that I would be good for her. I’d been selfish in my words, but I didn’t want any other man but Tyler and me to have her.

I felt better knowing that any bride I had would also have Tyler. Tyler’s customs—Bridgewater customs—protected Emily from me, from my past. If anything happened to me, she would be safe with Tyler.

After we left her the day before, I figured Tyler and I would have to woo her, perhaps even remain at Bridgewater for the appropriate length of time and court her. How the hell that was done, I had no idea. I could only hope that Tyler knew what to do. The direct approach hadn’t worked, for we’d watched her stomp off, all riled up from our conversation, and not in a good way. I’d probably fuck up a simple courtship since I wasn’t the wooing type. I’d told her straight out what we’d do to her and I feared I’d pushed it too far. I had been honest though. She’d known exactly what we were like.

But when she’d stood in the entryway, pretty as a picture and said she’d fuck us both, I almost came then and there in my pants. Between the two of us, I wasn’t the gentle one. I wouldn’t hurt Emily, no way in hell, but the darkness inside of me made me stern. Rough. Demanding. I was overwhelming and possibly even scary to someone as innocent and… fragile as Emily.

I’d lost control of my life when I’d been sent to jail. Now that I was free, I held that power in a tight grasp and refused to give it up to anyone, even a little slip of a woman. So when I’d pushed Emily up against the front door, dropped to my knees, stripped off her drawers and ate her sweet pussy, she knew right away that I wouldn’t be a tender lover.

When Tyler had taken his turn, it was the sight of her submitting so sweetly to his touch—she hadn’t even known she’d done it—that had me savoring the taste of her on my tongue. She’d come so beautifully, so completely, for him.

“Fuck,” I murmured, saddling up for the trip to town to get the sheriff. As justice of the peace, he’d seen to a Bridgewater wedding before and was familiar with the haste. “We need to hurry.”

I couldn’t wait to get back and have Tyler say the words. Make her legally his. She’d be mine as well. Just because the laws didn’t allow for two men to share a bride, it didn’t mean my honor wouldn’t commit me to her just as seriously.

“I know. Jesus,” Tyler replied. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and shook his head.

It wasn’t a surprise she’d agreed to marry Tyler. He was a man any woman could want. He was rich, powerful in the Montana Territory and ran a successful cattle business started by his two fathers. Women turned their heads in his direction as they passed and he was a skilled lover. The way he’d made Emily come was proof enough.

I shifted my cock to a more comfortable position as we mounted up, thinking about her face when she’d come. Emily had agreed to go visit Olivia while we went to town. She hadn’t been bothered by our haste and had been adamant the ceremony occur at Bridgewater. In fact, she wanted the legalities done as quickly as we did. Had her orgasm made her so eager for more?

“She said yes,” I said, surprise coating my words. I turned the horse toward town and squeezed my thighs to get the horse into motion.

Tyler turned his head and grinned. He rode up beside me. “She said yes. I can still taste her.”

She tasted sweet, like honey, but musky and almost decadent. She was like the finest whiskey; I wanted more.

“You should have seen her face when she came. She’s so fucking beautiful.”

Tyler groaned. “I don’t think her husband took care of her.”

I shook my head. There was no way that man pleasured her in bed. The way she responded to us, so easily and with such surprise, it was as if she’d never come for a man before. If that were the case, she now had a hint of what it would be like later, after the short ceremony.

Good thing her asshole husband was dead, for I’d kill him all over again. I didn’t care if I went back to jail. Emily didn’t deserve to be with a drunk who didn’t treat her well. She deserved orgasms every day from her men. “She’d been surprised that we would take her up against the wall.”