Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

Abigail wouldn’t stand in the way, not that I doubted she’d object to our union; she was married and had kept her own secrets. I would keep my health a secret until I was able to return to the doctor.

Now, nothing kept of us from being together—weak heart be damned—except perhaps Tennessee herself. It was time. She wasn’t just ready, she needed a real man. I would see her happy, settled, cared for. Cherished. Loved. I’d give her the moon if I could.

“I am not a stranger. I am your closest friend’s brother,” I countered, twisting her earlier words to my liking.

She pursed her full lips. “What do you plan to do with me?” she asked, one pale brow arched.

Fuck, she was so lovely. It seemed I was a glutton for punishment because my cock didn’t want a biddable, meek woman for a wife. No, it got hard for this little hellcat who seemed more inclined to want to stomp on my balls instead of cupping them in the palm of her hand and feeling how much seed was in them to fill her virgin pussy.

“Marry you, of course. And not just a regular marriage, a Bridgewater one. Do you know what that is?”

Her eyes widened. “Marry?” she squeaked. “I don’t want to marry you.”

Clearly, she only heard my first sentence, not the others, for then she’d know it wouldn’t just be me who claimed her, but Jonah Wells, too. Having two husbands would ensure she’d always be safe, that no harm would ever come to her. It was an instant decision. She was beside me and we would marry. But I’d been sick. I was sick, per the doctor. I wanted Tennessee, but I didn’t want to leave her—and possibly a child I might get upon her—alone if the diagnosis was accurate. Jonah Wells was the perfect candidate. The only person with whom I could imagine sharing a wife.

He was to come to Butte and help me search for Abigail—I’d left the ranch in haste with Tucker and Gabe and had him summoned to come and assist—but had yet to lay eyes upon him. That wasn’t surprising since it had taken time for us to track Abigail to Grimsby’s house. We would come upon him, I was sure.

“Why not? Grimsby was your latest conquest and you were prepared to marry him. I can’t imagine him being your first attempt.”

I had Tennessee in my grasp, and I was not waiting for Jonah’s arrival to make things official. In a Bridgewater marriage, he’d still be her husband as well, ceremony or not. I knew he’d take one look at Tennessee and want her just as readily. Vows read, I’d know once and for all she’d be safe.

Her eyes narrowed and she blushed, her pale skin giving away the truth without her uttering a word. She’d been husband hunting. Wealthy husband hunting and it had turned out disastrous. So bad her father had been murdered. Fuck, she was going to push me to insanity. Apoplexy might be an easier demise.

“I might be a simple rancher, but I don’t drink to excess, don’t swear—at least in front of women, I have all my hair, my teeth,” I shared, placing a hand on my chest. I had money, too. Quite a bit of it along with a huge swath of land. As my wife, she would want for nothing, but I would not wed her because of it. “I’m exactly what you’ve been looking for.”

And she was just what I’d been looking for. Her wild temperament and all.

I took her arm, led her down the street once more. “Come, if you’re going home with me, we need to find a preacher first.” Then a bed.

She tugged and shouted. “No! You told me I was going with you. You gave me no choice. I don’t want to go with you, let alone marry you.”

Our progression was halted by a man who was rolling a wooden barrel from the dirt street toward a saloon, crossing our path.

I arched a brow. Why was she being contrary? “You have no option but to marry. You wouldn’t have attempted luring Mr. Grimsby into the parson’s noose otherwise. I promise you I am a much better catch than that—” I didn’t finish the sentence, for the word I had for the man was not appropriate to mention aloud.

“He’s kidnapping me! Help!” she shouted.

I stared at her, stunned. Kidnapping? I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and do just that, but hadn’t thought it necessary. After what she’d been through, I’d expected her to be somewhat biddable and see I’d offered a safe haven for her. A marriage with a man who wanted her. Desired her for… her. And with me, she’d have two husbands. Twice the protection, the comfort, the love. Perhaps I’d been wrong.

The burly man stilled the barrel, blocked our forward progression and stared at Tennessee, his gaze sliding to where I was gripping her arm. She yanked from my hold and went around the barrel to put distance between us.

While the barrel roller was similar in height to me, he weighed quite a bit more. Beefy muscles from his employment made his arms bulge beneath his sweat-stained shirt. I worked hard on my ranch all day, but couldn’t compete with handling heavy kegs of beer. “What do you want with the lady?” he asked me. His voice was deep, and I couldn’t miss the way his thick hands clenched into fists.

“He’s dangerous,” Tennessee added, then held her fingers up to her mouth as if hiding a quivering lip. I had to wonder if they’d taught theatrics at the finishing school she’d attended with Abigail.

Oh, Tennessee was going to get a spanking of a lifetime when I got my hands on her for this. I took a step in her direction. “You were just rescued from being kidnapped. Really, Tennessee?”

“He even has a gun!” she shouted, pointing to the weapon tucked into my pants at my hip. It was the one Abigail had taken from me and used to fire a warning shot at Grimsby. No doubt every man in the crowd that had formed around us carried a weapon. This might be the richest city on Earth, but it was still a wild territory.

“Tenn—” I said, but was cut off when the burly barrel pusher reached out and grabbed my shirt. His punch landed before I could do no more than lift my hands in a feeble attempt for defense. I was knocked off my feet and slammed into the building’s brick wall. My head cracked against the hard surface, and as I slid to the ground, the world went black.

I came awake to Jonah squatting on the sidewalk before me. He was my friend as well as my neighbor—if he could be called that when our ranches were large enough to make our homes over a mile apart—looked me over. A decade older, his assessment held plenty of experience. “Rough day?” he asked.

Reaching out, I took his proffered hand, and he helped me up to standing. Wincing, I gently touched my eye, knowing it was swollen.

“Fuck, that hurts.”

I looked over Jonah’s broad shoulders. The brute and his barrel were both long gone. And so was Tennessee. Fuck.