Their Treasured Bride (13 page)

"Damn," I muttered, remembering my brother swearing as he'd
been seasick on the boat across the Atlantic.

Two shots. People should come running from two shots. When I heard
Olivia scream in pain, I knew I needed to fire the third shot to
signal an emergency.
This
was an emergency. Having a baby with
me as the only helper was a bloody emergency. I lifted the weapon
quickly, stepped to the edge of the porch and aimed at the sky and
fired. Nothing. The weapon was empty.

"Damn," I muttered again. I put the rifle down on the porch
floor and dashed into the kitchen, searching by the door for more
bullets. I quickly found some in a jar.

Back out on the porch, I had to figure out how to reload the weapon.
I was fumbling with that when Olivia yelled for me. "Rebecca!"

The guttural scream that followed had me dropping the bullets and
left the gun on the porch, running through the house and up the
stairs.

Olivia had her knees bent up and her hands resting on them. Her face
was dripping with sweat and her cheeks were flushed. "I think
the baby's coming," she groaned, then let out a long, painful
moan as pain ripped through her.

"Now? It's only been ten minutes since you started having your
pains," I countered.

"I don't think this baby cares!"

I dashed to the bed, sat down on the side of it and pushed up the
long hem of her nightgown. A head wasn't showing between her legs,
but I didn't doubt her.

"I've got to push."

She was panting hard now, then crying, and then moaning in pain.

"Olivia, look at me." She didn't, lost in her body's
actions. "Olivia!"

My shout had her eyes on me. "Keep looking at me. That's it. Now
breathe. Slow, good. Think about your men and how eager they are to
see this baby."

"They did this to me," she hissed. "I never want to
see them again." A pain gripped her and then she looked at me
with pleading eyes. "They're going to miss it!" she wailed,
tears streaming down her cheeks.

I'd never seen someone affected by so many emotions at once. I had to
keep her calm, but clearly I was terrible at it. How did I keep her
from panicking, all the while on the inside
I
was going to go
insane?

"Where the
bloody hell
is everyone?" I muttered,
grabbing for her hand and holding it.

That made Olivia pause. "Did you just swear?"

My eyes widened and nodded. She grinned as she winced in pain.

"I'll keep swearing if you try to breathe through the pains."

Her entire body tightened. "Oh God, here comes another pain!
Ah!" she cried.

I looked down between her legs and this time I saw a patch of dark
hair emerge. "The baby's head is coming. Do you want to push?"

She nodded frantically as she held her breath and bore down.

Wide eyed, I watched as the more hair became visible.

"The head's coming. I see dark, dark hair, Olivia."

"Olivia!" A man's voice shouted from downstairs.

Someone was here! "Get Mason and Brody. Hurry!" I yelled.

Thundering footsteps got louder as Olivia made a feral sound deep in
her throat as she pushed again.

Fortunately, it was Mason and Brody who came through the bedroom door
and stood stunned as their wife labored. It did not seem as if their
baby was going to wait any longer and I was relieved it was them
instead of Quinn or another man.

"Holy hell, woman," Mason muttered, standing stock still in
the middle of the room. "I see a head."

I stood and moved out of the way, thankful someone—anyone—was
here with us. Fortunately, Olivia had her husbands with her at this
perfect moment.

"What do we do?" Brody asked me.

The usually levelheaded man was completely befuddled. "Keep her
calm, hold her up as she pushes. Catch the baby." I hoped that
was what they were supposed to do, although Olivia and the baby were
doing fine without any of our help. "Go to her."

Brody nodded once and dashed to Olivia's side so he could sit and
hold her forward as she gripped her knees.

I leaned against the wall and watched as Mason held his new baby's
head as it came out, then with words of encouragement, spurred Olivia
to push once again. He caught the baby as it came out quickly once
the shoulders passed.

"It's a girl," he said, glancing up at his wife with amazed
eyes.

I was transfixed by the joy that was shared between them. The baby
cried and they all began to laugh. Brody grabbed a clean shirt that
hung from a peg on the wall and gave it to Mason, who wrapped the
tiny infant. He handed her off to Olivia as Brody unbuttoned the
front of her nightgown.

"Put her to your breast, love."

Olivia, sweaty and tired, but smiling from ear to ear, did as Brody
instructed.

Voices filled the downstairs. Emma and Ann came into the room, winded
and red cheeked. They looked at the baby, Olivia, the men and then at
me. Ann put a hand on my arm and I jumped. She smiled at me
reassuringly. "Go downstairs. Your men are waiting for you."
I glanced at Olivia who was listening to whatever Brody was
whispering in her ear. "We can help her from here."

Emma had already gone over to Olivia but I looked at Ann. I felt as
if I'd run from town, weary and elated and exhausted and happy. I
gave the new family one last look and felt a deep, almost painful
longing in my chest.
I
wanted this.
I
wanted Connor and
Dash to look at me the way Mason and Brody were looking at Olivia,
with complete love and adoration mixed with a fair amount of awe.
While they were big and brawny men, she'd done something so
incredible that neither of them could do.

I took my time going down the stairs. I'd only been at Bridgewater
two days but I'd learned so much. Everything I'd been taught about
being married had been a complete lie. Not once had Mrs. Dithers or
my father—even Cecil—ever mentioned the word love. I saw it in
the way all the other couples at Bridgewater looked at each other,
touched each other, even interacted. The men truly cared for their
wives, doted on them.
Needed
them. In turn, the women
flourished and became bold and brave and confident.

Dash and Connor had shown me all of this in the short time we were
married. They'd treasured me in a way I hadn't expected, hadn't
thought was even appropriate. What
was
appropriate? Was it
appropriate for my husbands to care about my needs enough to make me
come again and again? Was it appropriate for my husbands to care
about my safety enough to have me spend the day with others as I
learned about the ranch and living in Montana? Was it appropriate for
my husbands to show me the closeness, the intimacy that could be
found in a marriage? The answer to all of it was yes.

I wanted to do all of the dark, wicked things with them they promised
and I put my palm against my hip, feeling the plug in my pocket. I
wanted to be cherished and tended to, to be sought out after a long
day of work and carried over a shoulder to be fucked. Yes,
fucked
.
I'd been the one to resist, to question. No longer.

I wanted it all. When I came through the doorway and into the kitchen
where most of the men were milling and saw Dash and Connor, I knew
just what to do. When they came over to me, their gazes heated and
alive and solely for me, I did it.

I reached up and hooked my hand behind Dash's neck and pulled him
down for a kiss.

CHAPTER NINE

DASH

Rebecca was kissing me.
She
was kissing me. Her mouth was hot
and eager and I felt every bit of the pent up need she'd been holding
back. When her tongue ran over my bottom lip, I opened my mouth and
pulled her into my arms, for I didna want to give up this
surprisingly new Rebecca. She tasted sweet and fresh and alluring,
but for what she lacked in skill she made up for it in earnestness.
Her breasts pressed against my chest and I hardened instantly.

We'd pushed our horses to return to the ranch at the sounds of the
shots. We were about a mile away but they could be heard easily
enough. Only two shots had been fired, but we didna wait for more.
Two was enough to make us anxious, even with Quinn remaining nearby.
He'd gone to Kane and Ian's house, thinking the shots had come from
there, while Mason and Brody had gone directly home.

"Have a kiss like that for me?" Connor asked, his voice a
dark growl. Clearly he was surprised—and pleased—by our wife's
boldness.

Rebecca lifted her head, turned toward Connor and nodded. She flicked
her gaze to mine, then released me entirely only to jump up and wrap
her arms around Connor's neck. He grabbed her about the waist with a
chuckle, eyes wide in surprise, but they slid closed as she kissed
him.

She was being the aggressor, the one to seek pleasure from us. I
liked it. I liked it verra much. In fact, if there were nae three
other men in the room along with us, I'd have tossed her over the
kitchen table and fucked her then and there.

"Is she all right?" Kane asked, eyebrow raised in surprise
at Rebecca's very public display of eagerness.

The sound of a newborn’s cry came through the ceiling and we both
looked up as if we could see through it. I couldna help but grin, for
the idea of a new baby—a new life at Bridgewater—was thrilling. I
longed for the day when it would be our baby, a baby with Rebecca's
dark hair and fair skin.

"I'd be a hysterical mess if I’d helped birth a baby on my
own," Kane told me. He'd been through the experience once with
Emma and she'd had Ann to help her. "I will never forget when
Ellie was born. Holy bloody hell, it was awful." He ran a hand
over his face. "I remember Emma's every groan, every scream. I
even vowed I'd never fuck her again if it would stop the agony she
experienced."

I somehow doubted he'd kept that vow in the eight months since the
birth.

"But as soon as little Ellie came into the world, Emma forgot
the pain, forgot the months of feeling like a lumbering cow—her
words, not mine—and now she wants another one. I don't know if I'll
be able to go through that again, but I'll give that woman whatever
she wants."

I couldna help but grin. This man—this smart, strong man—was
reduced to a blundering idiot where his wife and child were
concerned. "I guess ye will have to start fucking her again for
that to happen."

Kane grinned. "Start? Hell, we barely stop." He glanced at
Rebecca and Connor. He lowered her back to her feet and kissed her
forehead. "Looks like you won't either."

"What happened to the porch railing?" Ian asked, joining
us.

Rebecca leaned her head against Connor's chest for a moment, and then
turned her face. Her cheeks were red and she looked perfect. Her hair
was mussed, her dress wrinkled. "I shot it."

I laughed. "Sweetheart, we have to give ye lessons on how to use
a rifle, don't we?"

"Absolutely," she agreed.

"Later. Yer job here is done." Connor said, lifting Rebecca
up and tossing her over his shoulder with a squeal from her. "Now,
we are taking ye home and ye can finish having yer way with us."

"No, Connor,
now
. I need it now," she pleaded.

Connor froze in his tracks and looked to me, cocked his head and
grinned. "Whatever our wife wants."

If our wife needed to be fucked at that moment, I wasna going to deny
her. I spun on my heel and went down the hall to Mason and Brody's
office. Connor followed, kicking the door shut behind him before
lowering Rebecca to her feet.

"Ye need to be fucked, sweetheart?" I asked.

She was panting now, her breath coming out from between parted,
kiss-swollen lips. Her color was high and her eyes were blurry,
almost dazed. She nodded.

"Say it, lass," Connor told her.

She cleared her throat, tipped up that chin in a usual show of
defiance. This time, though, it was boldness. "Fuck me."

"Bloody hell," I murmured as I approached, walking her
backward until she bumped into the wall. I felt predatory, almost
feral in my need for her in this moment. Her eyes met mine and I knew
she wanted this, wanted me—us. "This is going to be a quick
fuck, sweetheart."

She nodded her understanding and licked her lips.

"Take out my cock."

With eager fingers, she undid my belt, then the front placket of my
hands. My cock spilled into her waiting hands, hard as stone. I didna
offer a chance for her to play. Instead, I reached down and lifted up
the hem of her dress, hooked it over my forearms, grabbed her about
the waist and lifted her up, pressing her into the wall so we were
eye level. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs about my waist
and—thank Christ—she wasna wearing any drawers, causing my cock
to slide over her slick folds and for the head of my cock to tuck
into her eager, wet cleft.

I thrust up into her in one deliberate, rough stroke. Her head arched
back at the way I filled her, and she cried out. The feel of her hot,
tight walls clenching down on me was heaven. I didna want to move,
but breathed her in, savored her within my arms, her legs around me.
She was with me, right
with
me in this. I couldna remain still
though, and pulled back to thrust deep again. Over and over. I gave
up any semblance of control, for it was impossible. My balls
tightened and I felt my orgasm approaching.

Our breaths mingled and the sound of fucking—wet and rough—filled
the air.

"I'm going to come, sweetheart," I said, breathing against
the damp skin of her neck. I angled my hips so I rubbed against her
clit each time I filled her. "Ye are going to come with me. Let
go and I'll be here to catch ye."

Gripping her arse, I lifted and lowered her onto me, taking her hard
and without restraint. The way she was panting, the way she hissed my
name out between breaths, she was right there with me.