Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

It was all so similar to what my father had done with Clara. While she’d been so sweet and innocent, happy and so fucking cheerful all the time, she drew attention. Some people were good to her, but others… others were cruel. My father had been tired of hearing how defective she was and that she should be institutionalized. He’d held off until my mother died. His daughter wasn’t perfect, wasn’t normal, so he got rid of her. Tossed her out like rubbish.

That’s what Abigail thought James had done with her, but I knew him, knew him well enough to understand it was exactly the opposite. He wasn’t like my father. While protecting her, he’d given her every possible advantage.

James literally wilted before my eyes. “That’s what you think? I was ashamed of you?”

Abigail looked away.

“We aren’t avoiding this, Abigail Jane. You actually think I sent you to school because I didn’t want to see the scar on your face?”

She looked at the ground but nodded once.

James exhaled, ran a hand over his face.

“I sent you to school because I love you. You deserve the best. Hell, better than the best. Every time I see that scar, I think of what you sacrificed. For me. It is my fault you have it, and I have to live with the weight… the guilt every day.”

“You sent me away so you don’t have to, right?”

James gripped Abigail’s shoulders and all but shook her. “No, you fool. I sent you away because you should be smart and poised and fucking happy. I had the means to put you in school, and I gave it to you. I’d give you the moon if I could grab it. Even if I could, it wouldn’t compare to what you’ve given me.”

Her mouth fell open.

“So I should have left you to die in the fire?”

She’d been injured because of the fire that killed her parents? In saving James from it?

James closed his eyes. “Of course not. But you paid a terrible price.”

He stroked his fingers over her scar.

“I saved you. My brother. I couldn’t live without you. I’d say it was worth it,” she whispered.

It was true. Abigail had bravely saved her brother from a fire, from death, and she’d paid the price by being burned. James pulled her into his arms for a hug so fierce, so personal, it was hard to watch. No wonder he was protective and careful with her. The guilt he felt must be intense.

Abigail had a brother who loved her, perhaps too much. But that was never a bad thing. I’d had a sister who my father didn’t love enough. And that was the difference. Love.

It wasn’t that Clara was different, wasn’t like everyone else. It was because my father had been a cruel fucker who’d cared only about himself.

James pushed her back. “You’re caught up on your scar. You need to let it go.”

“So do you, then,” she countered.

James nodded. “All right. We’ll both try.”

He turned his head to look at me and Gabe.

“As for your husbands…”

He let the rest of the words go unsaid. The sharp pain in my jaw filled in the blanks.

The sheriff came out then, joining us on the sidewalk. He hoisted up his pants and wiped his sweaty brow.

“Mind telling us what’s going on?” James asked the man.

I was eager to hear it as well.

“Seems Grimsby’s mine has run dry. He’s destitute, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.” The sheriff glanced over his shoulder at the brick mansion. “Through marrying Miss Bennett, here, he planned to get hold of enough money to regain his social standing.”

All eyes turned to Abigail’s friend. She blushed and, based on what she’d said to Abigail, she’d lied about having money. How many lies were there?