Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 1) (15 page)

"That's right. He's going to claim your virgin arse. After, we'll both fuck you. Together. Ian will fuck your arse while I fuck your tight cunny. What will that mean?"

He'd said these words to me every morning as he worked my body. It was a daily reminder as to Ian's inclusion in our marriage, that we would not be complete until he returned. That he was training my ass for Ian.

"That we are one."

Ian moved behind me and nudged the head of his cock at the entrance to my pussy. It was so broad, so flared that every time he filled me, he opened me so wide. "It will be like this, only better. My fingers are most certainly a poor substitute for Ian's big cock."

With those words, he thrust deep, filling my pussy, his fingers in my ass, coaxing me into complete submission. Kane was correct. With Ian missing, I came, but the pleasure I knew would not be the same until he returned and his cock was deep within me as well.

***

One challenge of ranch life I discovered was the lack of solitude. Kane remained close to me at night from dinner until breakfast. After eating in the morning, he went off to do whatever needed to be accomplished that day. Repairing a well, a breeding of a mare to the very eager stallion, stringing barbed wire, going into town for supplies. The list was never ending. When Kane was not about, I usually worked in companionship with at least one other man in the stable, if not more. Ann enjoyed working the garden, the immense patch of land that held all kinds of vegetables and fruit that would sustain our larder for the winter.

Today, however, the men were off working far afield and I was alone in the stable. I'd ridden each day, with the promise to remain in sight of the buildings when alone for my own safety. Fortunately, I'd done nothing to warrant a punishment from Kane while Ian had been away, which only helped me to settle into my daily tasks.

After saddling the horse Kane had chosen for me, I led the animal out of the stable and into the bright sunshine. The air was warm and fresh; a rain shower overnight left everything verdant.

I was just pulling a carrot I'd stolen from the kitchen out of my pocket to give to the animal when something in the distance caught my eye. It was a group of men, four of them, on horseback, although who they were was unclear. They were on a rise to the south, in the opposite direction of town.

A bad feeling settled in my stomach, knowing none of the men on the ranch had gone that way. Kane was with Brody and Simon tending to a sick calf in the north pasture. Rhys and Cross were stringing barbed wire to a repaired fence to the west. Ann was most likely in the garden at this hour.

Slowly, they came closer, their horses plodding over the terrain as if they had all the time in the world. Recognition was swift, even from such a distance, for I knew Ian's bearing, the breadth of his shoulders. He was with three other men. Strangers. Oh, dear lord.

Dropping the horse's lead, I sprinted into the stable to grab the rifle, locked and loaded, perched upon pegs in the wall, ready for use at any sign of danger. Kane had pointed it out to me the first day, ensuring I knew not only the dangers that abounded, but also how we protected ourselves from them.

I was surely familiar with a rifle. Before my parents died, my father had instructed me to shoot until I was competent in using one. He'd also provided a lifestyle that did not require doing so. Until now.

Returning to the horse, I mounted carefully with the loaded weapon and a long skirt and nudged my heels into his sides.

"Ann!" I shouted as I came upon the garden, dirt kicking up around me in a soft swirl.

She stood from her crouch by the summer raspberries.

"Ian is on the rise with several men."

Her eyes widened beneath the brim of her sun hat, from my words and most likely from the gun I had slung across my body. "Surely you aren't going to meet them?"

"He is with the men who sought him. I know it."

"How do you know such a thing?" she asked, her head turned in the direction of the rise, her hand on her forehead to block the sun.

I shook my head. "I just do." My heart raced and I was breathing as if I'd run the distance to the garden instead of riding.

"You can't mean to approach them yourself!" A look akin to horror crossed her face.

"What if they are here for the others?" I looked in the opposite direction to see if any of the men could be seen. "Do you want them all to be taken? Killed?"

"
You
could get killed," she countered, pointing at me.

"I have the rifle."

"Emma!" she shouted, but I'd already spurred my horse into a full gallop.

My bonnet slipped off my head from the brisk pace, bouncing against my back as it dangled from the ribbon about my neck. Ian was back and he was in danger.

When the men saw me approach, they stopped. I slowed to a trot, shifting the rifle so I could aim and fire at will.

Ian was indeed one of the men, Mason, I now recognized, on his left, two strangers on his right. They all appeared travel worn, with dusty clothes, skin tanned from the sun. The length of the scruff on their cheeks indicated several days in the saddle. To my eyes, Ian looked heavenly. He was whole and appeared uninjured. The look on his face, however, indicated his situation to be dire.

"You're not welcome here. Let Ian go and I won't shoot you," I warned.

The other men stared at me with mixed looks – amusement, anger and surprise. None held weapons as I did, however rifle butts protruded from two of the packs. They sat relaxed in their saddles, hands resting on the pommels.

"Would the lass shoot us?" one man asked Ian. His accent matched Ian's brogue.

My husband hadn't taken his eyes from me, although they narrowed at the question.

"I dinna ken," he replied. "Emma, put the gun down."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I won't let these men take you back to England." I lifted the rifle so it pointed at the man on the far right. His hands came up slowly, and so did his eyebrows.

"I assume this is your wife," the man commented.

"Aye," Ian replied, his voice in that stern, low octave. "Emma, put the gun down." His repeated words were more insistent.

"We aren't taking your husband to England," the other stranger said. I shifted the gun his way.

"They're not, Emma," Mason added.

"How do I know you aren't lying?" My palms were damp and my shoulders began to ache from holding up the heavy rifle, but I held true.

"Because I said so," Ian said. He nudged his horse forward until he came along side me and grabbed the weapon from my hands. I exhaled at the relief of Ian taking charge and so did the other three men. "So did Mason."

Up close, a tick pulsed in his jaw, his eyes narrowed not in lust as I so wanted to see from him, but in anger. "Are ye daft?" he asked, his voice loud. "Waving a gun around, approaching men ye dinna ken?"

His Scot's brogue was stronger than usual.

"You're innocent," I affirmed.

"He is," a man behind him said.

I paused at the words, looked to Ian for confirmation.

"These men are MacDonald and McPherson. Scots like me. They were part of our regiment in Mohamir and have come to join us. They have surnames, but they've never shared them."

I looked around Ian and to the men. They tipped their hats at me and I blushed. Mason just gave a subtle shake of his head as if he were in disbelief.

"Oh dear," I whispered, my shoulders slumping.

Ian turned and tossed the rifle to one of the other men, caught easily and readily in the way only those used to such weaponry did. My husband slid from his horse, came around and stood at my side, arms out. "Get down, Emma."

"Then why are they here?" I asked, ignoring his order.

He sighed, but did not dim his anger. "As I said, they've come to live here. They emigrated to America."

"What?" That was the last possible scenario I'd expected. Turning my head to the men briefly, I saw the truth of the words with slight nods from each.

"MacDonald, the lug, is Simon's brother. Now get down from the bloody horse."

Now that it was made apparent, the resemblance was clear. Oh dear. I was in dire straits.

I looked down at Ian for the briefest of moments, knew from the look in his eye, the set of his jaw, the timbre of his voice that I was in the worst kind of trouble. Tossing one leg over the saddle, I let Ian lower me to the ground, take my hand and drag me several feet away to a large boulder, one of many that dotted the rugged landscape. He sat and abruptly pulled me over his knees, my belly down.

"Ian!" I shouted, right before the air escaped my lungs in a loud oomph. I'd expected him to pull me into a hug, a kiss, something to end the drought of attention and affection his days away had brought.

Unceremoniously, he hoisted my skirt up and over my back, exposing my naked ass to the air, Ian and the three men. He did not talk, did not delay, only spanked me – hard – all over my ass so that the flesh there and on the upper part of my thighs prickled with heat.

"Ye will nay approach danger with complete disregard."

Smack.

"Ye came alone."

Smack.

"Wielding a gun that could have been taken from ye and used on your person without effort."

Smack.

"Did ye ken Mason and I that weak that we couldn't protect ourselves against two men?"

Smack.

"Where the bloody hell is Kane?"

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I started to cry, my hands gripping the tall blades of summer grass. The searing strikes had me wilted and contrite. I
had
ridden into presumed danger without a care to my safety. I
had
aimed a gun toward men who had outnumbered me and could have overpowered me readily enough. I'd been headstrong and desperate.

"They were going to take you away!" I shouted, then sniffled.

"She's a little hellcat, lad." The voice came from behind me. Oh, the men! I forgot they were there and most assuredly watching my punishment.

"I'd like a little lassie to defend me like that." Another man's voice broke through the sound of Ian's palm striking my already tender flesh.

"You would, but then you'd spank her arse just like Ian."

Tears ran down my cheeks as Ian continued, my humiliation complete not only from these strangers commenting on my misery as if it were nothing, but by the sound of horses approaching and knowing the men from the ranch would see me this way as well.

I heard the men talking, but couldn't hear the words, dipping into a place where the spanking had switched from painful to a fog, although each strike was still filled with vehemence. I had succumbed. I was out of control, at the mercy of Ian and his palm, his anger, his fear. Wait. His anger was because of his fear for me. His punishment was to ensure that I was whole and hale, but also to soothe his frazzled nerves that I could have been harmed if I had approached more nefarious men.

"Are you finished?"

Kane.

"Aye."

"Good. It's my turn."

The spanking began once again in earnest, this time it was Kane's palm, although he only added about five swats to the tally.

My world upended and I dizzily landed on Ian's hard thighs. I hissed out a breath at the contact. Using my hands, I wiped the streaks of tears from my cheeks as I sniffled. "I'm...I'm sorry," I mumbled, still recovering.

Kane knelt down beside me. "You scared ten years off my life when Ann told us where you'd gone."

"Are you going to spank me again?" I asked, glancing between both men. They looked at me with a mixture of fear and anger. Kane was breathing hard and sweat dotted his brow.

"Nay," Ian said. "I'm going to fuck you." I felt the truth of his words hard beneath my bottom.

"Now? Here?" There were the two strangers who who'd arrived with Ian, plus Mason. From the ranch were Brody, Simon and Cross. Simon and his brother were hugging and smacking each other on the back congenially, clearly pleased to be in each other's company after so many years.

"Now. Here," Ian repeated, shifting me on his lap so I still sat astride his thighs, but this time with my knees on either side of his hips. Kane grabbed the tangle of my dress and pulled it up around my waist and out of the way. Reaching between us, Ian undid the placket of his pants, his engorged cock bobbing free. Without a chance to even consider what we were about to do, he hoisted me up by my waist and lowered me directly onto his cock, filling my pussy in one smooth slide.

"Oh!" I cried out, feeling so full and surprised by how wet I was for him. I wanted to lift and lower myself on him, to use his cock to seek my pleasure, but he wouldn't let me. His hands, banded tightly about my waist, held me in place as he shifted his hips, thrusting up into me, using me.

"No! The men are watching," I pushed on his shoulders, frantic to rise. The feel of him inside of me was...delicious, but I did not wish to be watched, exposed as we were. "It's...it's private!"