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

Page 17

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My tears fell once again.

Hadn’t I cried enough? I tugged at the saddle for a third time. It was too heavy. There wasn’t a chance I could lift it onto the horse so I could ride back to town.

Very well. I’d walk. I stood and wiped my cheeks and headed back the direction we’d come.

“Where are you going?” Ford asked.

“Hayes.”

“The sun is about to set. It’s five miles away and you aren’t wearing shoes.”

“No water. No food,” Logan added. “And there are snakes.”

I stilled then, feeling the cool grass beneath my feet. It was lush and green here by the water’s edge, but it would soon become tall and dry. I knew how far we’d come and I certainly couldn’t make the return trip on foot. My fancy high-heeled boots weren’t made for trudging across empty prairi

e, nor were my bare feet.

My legs collapsed and I dropped to the ground in a swirl of my long dress.

I heard the men’s footsteps.

“Go away.” I didn’t look at them. I never wanted to see them again. Ever.

“You’re my wife. I won’t ever leave you.” Ford’s words should have been a balm, but were an irritant instead, reminding me I was stuck with him. For the rest of my life, unless I could get back to town and find Mr. Jenkins. Get the marriage annulled.

But they’d taken my maidenhead, consummated the vows. Was an annulment even possible? And if I went back to town, would Ford get into trouble? Had he broken the law? And why did I care? Why did I have this stupid weakness where he and Logan were concerned? I wanted to slap his face so hard I’d leave a welt for the lies he’d told. But I knew I would also long to crawl into his lap and kiss it better. Angry as I was, I still wanted to kiss them, feel the scrape of their beards on my lips and between my spread thighs, the rough edges of them both nudging my breasts and parting my knees.

God, what a mess. I was a mess. My confusion was like oil poured on a fire, making me even angrier.

“You achieved exactly what you wanted, sir. Or is it my Lord?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out over the knee-high grass that bent and swayed in the breeze. Far off, a prairie hawk cried out, circling high above the land, gliding with such peace and grace that, for a moment, I wished I were a bird, not a woman. Life would be so much simpler.

“It’s Ford. I’m just Ford. And what exactly did I achieve?”

I knew he stood behind me, but he did not come closer, did not attempt to touch me.

“Fucking. You fucked me just as you wanted. Like I was a whore to be mounted.” The hawk dove to the ground as I watched and my anger rode with it. I imagined the feel of a mouse’s head crushed by hard talons, the wild joy of ripping the small, helpless animal to shreds with a sharp beak.

“Yes, I did. We both did. We fucked you hard, Lizzie. We made you beg and scream.” He bent low over my shoulder, his lips inches from my ear, his hot breath a torment on my still sensitive skin. “And we’re going to do it again.”

I swear I saw red in that moment because I knew they could. The passion that drove me wild when they touched me was redirected into rage. I stood, spun about and lunged for him. Before I could hit him, he grabbed one wrist, then the other.

“How dare you!” I tried to kick him in the shins, but my bare foot didn’t do much damage and I only hurt myself. Tears stung the back of my eyelids, but I refused to allow them to fall.

His green eyes were close but held no anger. While his hold was firm, it wasn’t tight. I was the one out of control, but he held me still with a gentle touch and forced me to listen.

“If I wanted a quick fuck, I could have gone to the saloon and bedded an actual whore. I didn’t have to get married. I wanted you and now you are mine. You belong to us and we won’t give you up. Are you listening to me, wife?”

His words didn’t make me any less angry, but they were getting under my skin, making me feel even more confused about what was going on here. Why me? Why had they done this? “I don’t understand. Why? I was promised to another.”

“I wanted you the first moment you stepped off that stage,” Ford said.

“I did, too.” Logan added from beside us. I hadn’t heard his approach. I was so close to Ford that I couldn’t see anything but my husband’s face as he looked down at me, patience in his voice.

“We married you because we knew you were the one with whom we wanted to spend the rest of our lives. We would not dishonor you by stealing your virtue. And we could not allow you to marry Jenkins.” He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead as I struggled to hold on to my anger. “Your virginity was a precious gift you shared with us. Your husbands. Our connection is strong. The pleasure we found in each other, incredible. How is that not perfect and right?”

Was he purposely being daft? “You stole me from Mr. Jenkins. Perhaps he was the perfect man for me. Perhaps I would have had a connection with him. He is one man. One husband, as is right. And I gave him my word.”

Ford lowered my hands to my sides, which pulled me in even closer to his hard chest. I had to tilt my chin up to look at him. His eyes roved over my face, then met my gaze.



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