Their Conquered Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 9) (Grace Goodwin)

We were not used to going hundreds of miles without the sight of a lovely lady or two. Back home in England, a simple stroll down the street would provide dozens of lovely, high-bred women. Problem was, none of them would accept the lifestyle we’d all embraced during our time in Mohamir. Two men sharing a wet, willing woman between them was, to us, the ultimate pleasure. The uptight mothers and fathers of London would not be able to accept our ways.

In addition to our heathen sexual practices, we were nothing but retired soldiers, not dukes or earls. Except for my friend Ford, we were all simple working men, not titled nobles. We had no hope of living life our way back home, so we came out here, to the Wild West, to the Montana Territory where we could live the way we wanted at Bridgewater.

“Perhaps there’s more than one man who sent for a mail-order bride?” Evan’s question pulled me from my thoughts as he glanced at Daniel. Those two had agreed to share a bride, just as Ford and I had. “Daniel, did you get a look at the one with the blue eyes?”

I hadn’t noticed the eye color of the two blond women for I’d only been looking at her.

Daniel nodded with a lust-filled grin. “Absolutely.”

“Are we agreed then?” Evan asked for confirmation of his choice, just as I’d asked Ford. He wanted the blue-eyed woman to be their bride.

“Agreed.” Daniel nodded his head in the direction of the hotel, then laughed. “Hell, you’d think we just negotiated for a new horse, but shit, I want her. I want her and no one is going to get in my way.”

Evan slapped him on the shoulder, for this was how it seemed with all of us. We just… knew.

“How are we going to accomplish this rescue? We don’t know anyone in this damn town. For all we know, the sheriff or local judge might be Jenkins’ cousin.”

“I don’t care which one is Jenkins’ intended bride,” Ford said. He placed the coiled rope on top of the sacks of flour. “That marriage is not going to happen.”

“There’s only one hotel, so we know where they’ve gone,” I said, looking in that direction.

“We’ll take shifts watching the hotel so they don’t suspect,” Evan offered, stroking his beard. No doubt he and Daniel were eager to get another glimpse of the blue-eyed lady.

“We’ll watch the Jenkins men,” Garrett offered and his friend Thompson nodded agreement. “They were drunk, stumbling their way to the stables last night. We’ll head over there and keep them away from the hotel.” They put on their hats and left the group. The others surrounded the wagon and I nodded to each of our brothers-in-arms. They knew the stakes. Three women meant three brides. Three beautiful women to take to Bridgewater.

I nodded my thanks. “Why don’t you boys take the wagon and meet us at Bridgewater Ranch? We’ll be a couple of days behind you.”

“Done.” I didn’t know which of the men had spoken, nor did it matter. Six men were headed to Bridgewater, six staying in town to rescue three lovely women. The Jenkins boys were drunken idiots. They were no match for us.

Ford stepped up onto the boardwalk as the wagon pulled away. I expected him to head for the hotel, but he turned in the opposite direction. I bit my tongue and balled my hands into fists. My inclination would be to tear her hotel room door down, swoop our future bride over my shoulder, and ride out of town. But that’s why Ford had been our spy and scout while I always hungered for the rage of taking down my enemies on the front lines. I tended to be a charging bull, but I wasn’t stupid. Ford would have a plan. The bastard always had a plan.

I fell in step beside him. “Where are we going?”

Ford’s grin was full of the devil and I grinned back. “To find the town preacher.”

“What if she won’t agree?”

“She will.” Ford slapped me on the shoulder, just as Evan had Daniel. “Trust me.”

I shook my head. “If she’s got a sense of honor, she’ll insist on meeting Jenkins first. Sounded like she gave the man her word.”

“I know. And she’s going to keep it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

We’d reached the front doors of the small town chapel and Ford grinned as he pushed open the door. “Just play along. She’ll be ours by nightfall.”

Hell if I was going to argue with that. I followed him inside and squinted for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the tiny chapel. A small, nervous man walked forward between a dozen rows of hard wooden pews. He was close to sixty, bald, wearing dark robes, spectacles and a serious expression.

“Welcome to our chapel, gentleman. What can I do for you?”

Ford took off his hat, bowed his head and took on a very contrite look. When he opened his mouth, I was shocked to hear a nearly perfect American accent. “Well, preacher, I was hoping you could marry me and my miss. We got a little carried away last ni

ght and I need to make an honest woman out of her.”

The preacher’s cheeks flushed a dark pink at Ford’s plain speaking, but he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “Well, has the lady agreed?”

“Of course. I never woulda touched her, sir. I swear. I didn’t mean to, but I just got lost for a minute. She smelled so nice and she was so soft, and her kisses made me kind dizzy, and… well…” Ford shuffled his feet and hunched his shoulders in shame. I hid a gut shot of laughter behind a coughing fit as he continued. “Well, I love her, see. Now I need to make it right.” Ford’s smile was pure happiness and I wondered in awe at his acting skills. This was the reason he’d been the spy. Me? I preferred to shoot first and ask questions after.