Their Treasured Bride (3 page)

He held up his hands and I had no choice but to let him lower me to
the ground. His hold felt different than Mr. McPherson's. His hands
were larger, the rough callouses catching on the smooth fabric of my
dress and yet there was a reverence to his touch that was surprising.

"I do. When the owner of the boarding house discovered I was
coming here, he offered to hold them for me until they could be
retrieved."

Both men gave decisive nods. Mr. McPherson opened the front door and
Connor led me there with his hand warm at the small of my back. Once
at the doorway, Mr. McPherson picked me up in his arms and I cried
out in surprise, one hand going to hold my hat, even though it was
securely in pinned in place. "What...what are you doing?" I
asked.

"Carrying my bride over the threshold," he replied. I
looked up into his face and he was smiling, seemingly pleased with
the act. I watched as his light eyes held mine, then dipped lower to
my mouth. My heart was racing and I was breathing hard, as if I had
carried
him
through the doorway.

Before I could question his action, he lowered his head and kissed
me. I sucked in a breath with the shock of it; I'd never been kissed
before and his lips were warm and soft against mine. His body, where
it pressed into mine, was solid muscle, hard as rock, and warm as
sin. I barely had time to even realize his action before he lifted
his head. "Mr. McPherson—"

"Dash," he whispered, his eyes darker now and focused
solely on my lips. "I am your husband and you may call me Dash."

He lowered his head again and this time the kiss wasn't so gentle. In
fact, it was demanding. His mouth pressed against mine, then opened
as his tongue licked along my lower lip. I gasped at the heat of the
touch and he took the moment for his tongue to dip into my mouth. He
tasted of the apple pie from lunch and of something dark and
dangerous. I responded, but I wasn't sure how, for I knew not how to
kiss.

"It's my turn." I heard the words through a haze as thick
as London fog.

I'd completely forgotten that Connor stood behind us and I startled,
pulling my mouth away. Mr. McPh—Dash's hands tightened about me.
Connor had witnessed the kiss, the way my eyes had closed, the way I
hadn't pushed Dash away. Dear Lord.

"Please, put me down," I said, but either they didn't hear
me or didn't wish to do as asked, for I was passed from Dash to
Connor. "I...I am not a parcel to be bandied about!"

Connor's hold was equally secure, but as I'd considered before, he
felt different. His chest was broader and his scent, he smelled
different. Where Dash was dark and spicy, Connor smelled more of the
open prairie and leather. It was an odd combination, but it suited
him.

What did not suit
me
was being held in his arms. "This
isn't right," I insisted, pushing in vain against his chest. One
dark brow went up as he looked at me.

"Oh? Ye mean I've waited too long to kiss ye? Tis all I thought
about while we had lunch. Did ye know ye smell of vanilla?"

He grinned, then pulled me up and into a kiss that was completely
different that Dash's. Connor's mouth was firmer, more insistent and
he didn't keep his lips in one place, but nibbled—yes, nibbled!—his
way to the corner of my mouth, then to the other.

"I can't be kissing you. We're...we're not married!" I said
in a rush. I felt his warm breath on my cheek, my jaw. Everywhere.

Connor lifted his head and eyed me with confusion. "Aye. We are.
Any woman married to Dash is married to me."

I shook my head. "No." I pushed at his chest and tried to
get down, but he held me securely beneath my knees and behind my
back. I wasn't going anywhere unless
he
decided it. "The
marriage license, it solely says Dashiell McPherson. I can't go
kissing you being married to him."

"Are ye asking my permission, sweetheart, to kiss Connor?"
Dash asked from over Connor's shoulder.

I shook my head again. "I can't be one to go about
kissing
other men."

"We won't be just kissing," Connor added, his voice deep. I
saw something in his eyes, something like heat and...desire there.

My mouth fell open at his words. "See? He thinks I am a...a
loose woman."

"Loose woman? Have ye ever been kissed before?"

I felt my cheeks heat and that seemed to be answer enough for Dash.

"I thought so. Connor knows ye are my wife," Dash replied.
"
His
wife, as well. It is the way it’s done here at
Bridgewater. Ye dinna need to worry that anyone will judge ye. Tis
what yer brother wanted for ye."

"Please, put me down," I pleaded, looking Connor squarely
in the eyes. How could Cecil have intended this for me? I was hurt,
crushed by the knowledge that he thought of me in such a way. Had he
saved me from the arranged marriage my father had planned only to
give me to
two
men? How he must have laughed at night
thinking of his coup. He'd gotten even with the man by using me.

Connor must have heard my disappointment, for he moved to a chair
that was by the door and sat down. Instead of letting me go, however,
he held me about the waist and had me stand between his legs.

"You find my touch intolerable?" Connor asked. For such a
large man, I heard a touch of insecurity in his words. If they'd been
planning to share a bride for a long time, perhaps years, then my
rejection of him would change their dynamic. Had Cecil used them as
he had me?

"No," I answered. His touch wasn't intolerable. In fact, it
was rather nice. But I shouldn't be finding two men's touches
nice.
"It's not that. Cecil, he...I was misled." I remembered my
manners just in time, remembering not to share emotions or speak ill
of the dead. However important it was not to complain, I had to speak
up. "I will not fall so low as to be a wife to Dash and a
mistress to you."

Both men remained quiet and I turned my head to look up at Dash, then
back to look directly into Connor's eyes. He nodded. "I
understand."

I sighed in relief.

"You do?" I asked.

"Yes, and it is easily remedied," Connor answered. I
expected him to lift me from his lap and hand me off to Dash, my
husband, but he didn't.

I furrowed my brow. "It is?"

"Aye." He set me back from him and stood. "We're going
to town."

"Right now?" I asked.

I saw a look pass between the two men. They were of a friendship
close enough where they did not seem to require speaking to
communicate.

"Aye," Connor repeated.

"Why? I was there this morning."

"We are getting married." He tugged my hand and pulled me
out the door.

CONNOR

Two hours later, we stood before the doors to the church in town. I
spent the ride silently watching our new wife. Wife! It was either
insanity having her appear over lunch, or serendipity. She was the
loveliest—and primmest—thing I'd ever seen. Sure, Ann and Emma
and the others were beautiful, but they weren’t mine. There was a
difference when the woman before you—from the silky dark hair on
her head to the snooty tilt of her chin to the perfect flare of her
hip—belonged to you. Aye, I'd wager her spine was stiff and
straight without the tight corset she wore, but it would be my
pleasure, and hers, to fuck the starch right out of her.

Rebecca was less than pleased about my intention to wed her, but her
upbringing obviously prevented her from complaining. She'd spent the
ride to town worrying that plump lower lip with her teeth. She'd used
the term
loose woman.
She was the complete opposite of a loose
woman. There wasn't a woman alive that needed kissing and touching
and fucking as much as she
did
.
A few sweaty, powerful orgasms would do her a world of good.
Unfortunately, she believed that even liking a kiss from both of us
made her immoral. Clearly, her brother hadna prepared her for the
both of us and now we had to fix this. It started with saying 'I do'
in front of a man of God.

"I am
married
to Dash," she said. "I can
not
marry another. Surely the minister will know."

"When you stayed at the boarding house, did you tell anyone of
your proxy marriage?" I asked. I had a fair idea of her answer.

"No."

"Because you were worried I would reject you?" Dash's words
had her looking his way and I could see a hint of hurt in her eyes.
After traveling halfway around the world, having her brother die in
front of her, and then wed to a stranger, neither of us could blame
her for that consideration. If she'd been rejected, she could turn
around and leave town without anyone the wiser, although what she
would have done then, I'm sure she didna know. We weren't rejecting
her. Like bloody hell. We were giving her more husbands that she
wanted and this was a problem she never considered even in her
wildest imaginings.

"Everyone in town, then, will know of your marriage to
me
,"
I said. "We," I pointed between the three of us, "will
know you are legally wed to Dash
and
to me."

She frowned then. "Why...why do you need to do this? Even if I
am married to Dash, I am yours anyway, as a mistress to use as you
see fit." Her chin angled up a notch. Ah, I loved the hint of
defiance in her even though I wanted to take her over my knee at her
words.

I turned to her and gently held onto that upturned chin so she was
forced to look at me. "Because I dinna want you as my mistress.
Tis the second time ye've brought our honor into question. If I
wanted to
dally
with a lass, I'd go to the brothel. I dinna
want to dally, I want to
fuck
my wife and that is ye. To me,
yer proxy marriage to Dash is enough to make ye mine, but if ye need
to stand in front of a minister and God to know ye belong to me as
well, to let me touch ye the way I wish, then so be it."

She tried to turn her head away, but I wouldna let her. I didna want
her to hide her emotions, to hide what I could see readily in her
eyes.

"The minister, surely he will
know,
" she whispered.

Dash removed his hat, glanced left and right as if someone were
nearby to overhear and shook his head. "I willna tell." He
cocked an eyebrow. "Do ye plan to tell him ye are wed to
another?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it. We had her caught.
Neither Dash nor I would tell the minister the truth behind our
marriage; he may have some inkling to how marriage was viewed at
Bridgewater, but never spoke of it. If Rebecca told the minister of
our stance on marriage, then she would be complicit in our unusual
customs. She had nay choice but to keep it to herself.

We could return to the ranch and be a family, Dash, Rebecca and I,
but her staunch morals required the union in the marriage books, or
whatever they were called in the Territory. If she needed to stand in
front of a minister in order for me to touch her, to fuck her, to
make her mine with as much right as Dash, then so be it.

"No. I won't tell," she replied. "You're willing to
marry me—you do not know a thing about me—even though I'm married
to Dash? It is quite a step all because you want to kiss me."

I grinned. "I do want to kiss ye, and more. Dash and I have been
waiting for our bride to come along, although we had nae expected it
over the noonday meal, but we have always planned to share a bride,
ever since our time in Mohamir. I have no plan to walk away. If
Montgomery married ye to Dash, then he knew that he married ye to me
as well. He knew of our ways, but couldna put both our names on the
marriage license. This is what he wanted."

Rebecca glanced from me to Dash, and then back, then pursed her lips.

"What is it, lass?" I asked. "Ye dinna have to hold
yer tongue with us."

"He wanted to shame me?"

"Shame? Yer brother was honoring ye."

"Honor?" Her cheeks brightened as she unleashed a hint of
her frustration. About bloody time. "That word keeps coming up.
I thought he was saving me from an arranged marriage to a man three
times my age, but instead was choosing to humiliate me. He was using
me to get back at my father."

I felt her disappointment. She was clearly confused, lost and most
likely overwhelmed.

"Shame ye? Ye dinna understand our ways, lass," Dash said.
"Your brother knew our ways were the best for ye. He wasna
shaming ye, he was protecting ye."

"How?" She turned away, walked a few steps, spun around.
"I...I don't understand."

"Tis easy to become a widow in these parts," I began. "Many
a thing befalls a man, just as ye know from your brother's accident.
Widows fall prey to unworthy suitors and often have nay choice but to
marry again, and nae for love or even kindness. If a woman has more
than one husband, she never has to worry about being left alone in
the world. The children that are made from the union are protected.
Ye willna fear going hungry or lonely. Ye are safe, cherished,
adored, protected and above all, honored."

She didna seem swayed, so I continued. "I'm doing this for ye,
sweetheart. If ye need me to say the vows before God for ye to know I
am yours, then I will do it."

I held out my arm and escorted her to the door of the small church. I
stopped and turned to face her. "Know this, sweetheart, when I
make ye mine, ye'll get all of me, everything I have, everything I
am, and that includes kisses...and more."

CHAPTER THREE

REBECCA

The ride back to the ranch was vastly different than the ride into
town. We'd returned my horse to the livery and I sat sideways atop
Connor's lap. If gossip in the Montana Territory was anything like
London, everyone in town would know before nightfall that Connor and
I were wed, so it would seem odd for me to sit on the lap of the
witness instead of the groom.