Their Treasured Bride (4 page)

While I had never been kissed before this day, I had never sat upon
the lap of a man before either. It was quite surprising and extremely
uncomfortable. Connor's thighs were solid muscle and rock hard,
shifting with the sway of the horse. I did not wish to lean into him,
for he'd think I was seeking out his attentions, especially after the
kiss we'd shared following our vows. Connor took the vows to God—and
to me—to heart, for the kiss was much more of a claiming than the
quick one we'd shared in the entry of their house. I'd even gasped in
surprise when he stuck his tongue in my mouth. His tongue, just as
Dash had! I'd thought Dash had done it wrong, but clearly it was
expected.

Thinking about that had me sitting ramrod straight, although his arms
were about me and held the reins. It was exhausting remaining so
tense. Did he know I was tense? Of course, he did.

The women I'd met at lunch were so easygoing and carefree, clearly
happy with their husbands, their new families, their lives.
Everything. They did not fear sharing their feelings,
smiling...anything. They did not worry about what others would think
of them, or whether the headmistress would strike you with a ruler or
a switch for the slightest of infractions.

I would never be like them. While Cecil had rescued me from my
father's plans, he had not done it in time. He was over a decade
late. The damage had been done, the carefree childhood yanked away
when I was just six. Mrs. Withers School for Girls had been ruthless,
but so had the elite of London once I'd graduated. I'd been well
trained to shore up my defenses as men did going into battle, but in
my twelve years at the school I learned not one thing about how to
guard myself from two husbands.

I never knew a man could be so warm or smell so good. Once we were
away from town, Connor pulled me into him so that I was pressed
against his hard chest and he kissed me. Again and again. His lips
raked and nipped, then his tongue darted out to lick the slight sting
away. He stopped for a minute or two, placing his chin on top of my
head before kissing my ear and then down my neck.

It was as if he couldn't stop and it seemed I was too weak to resist.
I couldn't push him away, for I would fall off his lap, but
surprisingly, I didn't want to. How did all of my training, all of
the punishments all be forgotten with a man's mouth upon mine? What
was happening to me? If this was how I felt from kissing alone, I
didn't think I was strong enough to endure our wedding night. While
I'd been told at school to close my eyes and think of England as my
husband took his liberties, it was the view of the grassy prairie
with the jagged mountain peaks off in the distance that reminded me I
was no longer in England.

Back at the ranch, it was Connor who carried me over the threshold,
however unlike last time, he didn't put me down in the entry.
Instead, he carried me through the main part of the house, down a
long hallway and into a bedroom. I saw over his shoulder that Dash
followed, closing the door behind us. Only then did he lower me to my
feet.

I glanced at the bed and swallowed. This was the moment I'd heard
about in very euphemistic terms, but I did have a vague
understanding. There was a class on comportment every year, but the
final semester at school, the discussion was different. We didn't
need to walk with books on our heads or practice sitting so that our
ankles were crossed, our spines straight and hands folded in our
laps. We'd had that drilled into us for years and years.

This class had been on how to comport myself in front of my future
husband. I thought back on what I'd learned, on Mrs. Withers' words
and what I had to do.

The bed was quite big, large enough for either man to be
comfortable. The room was sparsely, but well furnished. The bed was a
four-poster with a dark quilt upon it. In the corner was a trunk with
two books upon it, and an unlit lantern. At the open window, white
curtains billowed from the soft breeze. For October, it was a warm
day, but inside, in this room, it was as if there was no air at all.
Both men within made the space seem small, and the bed the focus.

I remembered the teachings and what my duty was; I had two men
waiting on me. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the pin from my hat and
removed it, placing it on the trunk. I walked over to the bed,
crawled up onto it as ladylike as I could and positioned myself in
the middle. Laying back, I settled my dress back down over my ankles.

I glanced up at the men who were watching me. They said nothing, did
nothing and my anxiousness grew. I knew they'd do something with my
womanhood, they'd put a part of themselves within me, so I slowly
spread my feet apart, bent my knees and once again smoothed down my
dress. Shutting my eyes, I took another deep breath and said, "I'm
ready."

There was silence in the room. I couldn't even hear the men breathe.
Did they not want me after all? Opening one eye, I peeked up at them.
Both men were looking down at me with open mouths and eyebrows
raised.

"Ready for what, sweetheart? A nap?" Dash asked.

I came up onto my elbows. "For...for sexual congress. I was told
you would climb on top of me and rut and it would hurt but I was to—"

"Think of England?" Dash shook his head slowly, and then
glanced at Connor.

"Well...yes."

Connor moved to sit at the foot of the bed while Dash crossed his
arms over his broad chest.

"Who told you that?" Connor asked.

Oh dear. I'd done something wrong. Licking my lips, I answered, "Mrs.
Dithers in our Comportment class."

"Do you think this woman, Mrs. Dithers, ever had...
sexual
congress
before?"

My mouth fell open at the ridiculous question, but it gave me pause.
Was Mrs. Dithers actually a Mrs.? I thought of the woman, well into
her sixties, with her gray hair and sour expression. I doubted there
was a more severe or dour woman who ever lived. "I can not
imagine such a thing." If the headmistress found out I was
married to two men...no, if she even got a glimpse of these two
handsome men, she'd have a fit of apoplexy.

"Then we will be yer teachers. Forget whatever this woman told
ye," Connor told me.

"All of it," Dash added. "We will correct every
strange notion ye have, one at a time. Being married to two men
doesna make ye a loose woman. Being married doesna mean ye have a
duty to us with yer body. Tis nae a duty, lass, tis want.
Need.
"

"First of all, you're nae going to think of bloody England. In
fact, if you're thinking at all that means we're doing it wrong,"
Connor said. "Secondly, you're nae just going to lay there
either."

Before I had a chance to question him, Dash scooped me up into his
arms and carried me from the room, Connor holding the door open for
us.

"Where are we going? You don't want to have marital relations?"
The walls of the hallway passed in a blur.

"Lesson number one. It is nae marital relations or sexual
congress or intercourse or whatever scientific term used to describe
fumbling beneath the sheets."

"In the dark," Dash added, lowering me to my feet, turning
me to face him, then sitting down in a comfortable chair beside a
cold fireplace. His hand hooked about my waist so I stood between his
parted knees. "It's fucking," he said, the word so stark
and blunt as to make me blush. I looked away, to the cold fireplace
that soon enough, would have a fire to cut the fall chill. I'd never
heard the word before, but I knew it was unseemly and carnal. "Say
it."

I shook my head and refused to look at him. "I can't."

I heard Connor come up behind me, felt the heat of him against my
back, but he did not touch me. When his warm breath fanned my ear, I
startled. "Can't or won't?"

I felt a pin loosen in my hair and I brought my hand up to it, but
came upon Connor's hand. I pulled my hand away as if burned, but he
did one pin, then another, then another, until my hair hung straight
and long down my back.

"Won't." Both of them remained quiet and I tried not to
squirm. I knew their eyes were upon me and I was the sole focus of
both their attentions. This was worse than any time I was sent to the
headmistresses’ office. Worse that when my father stared me down
and told me I was to marry his friend—his
very
old friend.
I'd graduated and left Mrs. Withers behind and my father and my
former intended was an ocean away. Connor and Dash were not going
anywhere, ever. "I am well past the age of boarding school, but
refraining from inappropriate language has been well learned."

"Boarding school?" Connor asked, his voice foreboding.
"I've heard stories of English boarding schools. Some in
Scotland are nay better. When you say
well learned,
you mean
beaten."

"Beaten?" My heart fluttered against my chest and I
wondered if they could see it. "If you mean by rulers, then
yes."

"What else?" Dash asked, and I saw a twitch in his jaw. "A
switch?"

I stared intently at the fireplace rock.

"A cane?"

I cleared my throat, shrugged with a feigned nonchalance. "Something
like that."

"Something like what, sweetheart?" Connor's hands settled
on my shoulders and I flinched, but they did not move. They were warm
and gentle and felt somewhat reassuring. "Tell us. I wish to
know what ye endured, nae false generalizations so ye are nae seeming
to be complaining."

"How did you...?" I bit off the remainder of my question.

"We are from Scotland, sweetheart. We know how a woman of yer
ilk was raised to behave."

She sighed. "Very well. Everything you said, plus missing a meal
or being left in a closet."

I believe I heard Connor growl.

"Look at me, Rebecca," Dash said. With his voice almost a
plea, I had to look at him, to look in his dark eyes. "How old
were you when you were sent away?"

"Six," I replied honestly.

Connor bit back an oath; I'd heard Cecil do the same when he was
angry.

"And Montgomery, your brother? Where was he at this time?"
Dash asked, his voice dark.

I licked my lips, worried that tone was directed at me. "When I
was six? The army. I believe he was stationed somewhere overseas with
you." Most likely in this country of Mohamir they all spoke so
sincerely about. "He was much older than me; my mother's child
from his first marriage."

"Your mother?" Dash asked.

"She died birthing me."

"Your father?" Dash's fair eyebrow went up at the question.

"He is well, the last time I saw him at least. Cecil heard of my
father's plan to marry me to the widower Reginald Thompson-Trewes,
Third Earl of Crawford. His only heir drowned at the age of
thirty-four and he needed another. Somehow Cecil caught wind of this
mismatched arrangement and
retrieved
me from London. I did not
complain."

"I swear, Rebecca Montgomery McPherson MacDonald, that I willna
raise my hand to you in anger. I will nae touch ye in any way that
brings ye harm. Only pleasure." Dash lifted his hand to my cheek
and with his thumb, brushed my cheek and pulled me down toward him
and kissed me. It was soft and gentle and without any tongue, for
which I was surprised and oddly disappointed. He released me and
turned me toward Connor.

"No one will raise a hand or a switch or a ruler or a cane to ye
again," Connor growled. "Tis our job to protect ye and take
away yer problems. But we will do things with ye that may go against
what ye've been taught, nay because they are bad, but because they
are good." His thumbs, too, stroked over me, but his were making
half moon strokes at the base of my neck. "Like saying the word
fucking. Tis nothing wrong with that word, for ye will only find
pleasure it with us, and we're going to be doing it often."

Often? Wasn't it just at night, in bed? "I'll...I'll try,"
I shared.

"Dinna worry, we have our own way of training ye."

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I doubted it involved a
classroom and was reassured it did not include corporal punishment.

Dash smiled and the hard angles the conversation brought about faded.
"I wager ye'll be begging us to fuck ye soon enough. Know this,
ye will have to say the words, sweetheart."

I did not consider this a problem, as I doubted I would ever beg to
be...to be
taken.

"When we fuck, we will be naked. We will do it in broad daylight
and often nae in a bed," Dash commented as his hands came up to
the tiny buttons at my neck. "That is why we are here in the
parlor for yer first time, to show ye we dinna need a bed."

I tried to step back, but I bumped into the solid wall of muscle.
Connor.

"What...what are you doing?" I asked, stopping the motion
of Dash's hands with my own.

"Getting ye naked."

"But...but I've never been naked with a man before."

"I bloody hope not," Connor growled from behind me.

I felt my heartbeat race again. The idea of being naked and exposed
had me panicking. "Can't you...can't you do what you're going to
do with me in my dress, at least until it's dark?"

Dash shook his head slowly. "Nay, lass. Ye are so lovely we wish
to see all of ye."

I swallowed. "I'm...I'm afraid."

"Ah lass," Connor whispered in my ear. "I'm proud of
ye for telling us yer feelings."

"Do ye wish for us to disrobe first?" Dash asked.

My eyes widened. "You're going to be naked, too? You
want
to
show me your bodies?" Heat flooded through me, but the idea
didn't settle my nerves.

"Aye, we are going to be naked, lass, and nay, we were nae
taught to be modest with our bride."

I felt Connor step back; the heat from his body was gone. Dash moved
his hands from my collar to the belt at his waist. He undid it with
deft fingers and opened the placket of his pants. I stepped back, not
prepared for his bold and immodest action. Shifting his hips, he
reached into the opening of his pants and he pulled out his...oh dear
Lord!