Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

“Surely people knew the mine wasn’t putting out,” Gabe said.

The sheriff nodded. “They did, but the only place aware of his financial fallout was the bank.”

“So when Miss Bennett turned out to be… begging your pardon, ma’am, less than he desired—the sheriff removed his hat and nodded at her.—“he sought other sources of income.”

“Blackmail?” James asked.

“That and kidnapping. There are a few other crimes unrelated to the ladies here, but he won’t be bothering anyone for a long time. You’re free to go.”

A deputy called him back inside. He nodded to us then turned back to the house, putting his hat on as he went.

“You were being blackmailed and didn’t tell us?” I was equal parts stunned and furious with Abigail. “We’re your husbands.”

Miss Bennett gasped and whispered, “Husbands?”

“I think there are a number of misunderstandings today, Carr,” Gabe said to James. “While you might be her brother, we’re her husbands, and we’re taking her home. If you want to punch me first, get it over with.”

James looked down at Abigail then turned her toward us. “While I want to put you in your room for the next two weeks, Abigail, you belong to your husbands now. Go with them.”

“What?” she sputtered. “Didn’t you hear what I said? They don’t want me. They don’t even want to look at me.”

James eyed us closely, somehow deciding whether we were worthy of his sister. “You need to talk with your men. I won’t let you live under false notions any longer. I trust them, and so should you.”

I was relieved he respected our role as her husbands and trusted we’d take care of her. There were lies and fucking blackmail to talk through. There would be punishment for our new bride.

“Take my sister home. Ensure something like this will never happen again.”

He meant punish her, which I was all too eager to do.

“James!” Abigail cried, astonished, crossing her arms over her chest. “They don’t want me!”

“Bring her to the ranch next week for dinner.” The way he ignored Abigail’s sputtering meant he believed whatever was going on between us was resolvable, and perhaps grounded in her issues with her scar. If they could talk through it, then so could we.

Gabe nodded, shook James’ hand. After stepping close and kissing Abigail’s forehead, James turned to Miss Bennett, holding out his elbow. “Ma’am. You’ll come with me, but we will be talking about your role in all this. Don’t think because you’re safe you won’t face the consequences of your actions.”

The woman eyed him with trepidation. “I believe I’ve learned what the consequences are.”

James shook his head at her. “Not all of them.”

He waited patiently for her to take his arm. While he seemed gentlemanly in the gesture, I knew if she refused he’d probably toss her over his shoulder. But she took the proffered arm and went with James down the street.

When Abigail finally looked at me with those beautiful dark eyes, I shook my head slowly. “Not one word, precious. Not here. We’re going home, and you can tell us all about it when you’re over my lap, ass bare and red from my hand.”

She sputtered with indignation all the way home.

CHAPTER TEN

Abigail

Riding in Gabe’s lap the entire way back to Bridgewater had been wonderful… and horrible. After the encounter with Mr. Grimsby, I’d needed to feel Tucker’s arms about me, then Gabe’s with a fierce desperation. Then I’d remembered. Remembered the conversation they’d had in the stable. I ached for them, to have it once again be so perfect with them. But it had all been a lie. And so I rode in silence, feeling every inch of Gabe’s hard body against mine, my heart breaking.

“If you can’t stand to look at me, why did you marry me?” I asked Gabe once he lowered me to the ground from his horse. I refused to go inside the house with them without knowing.

I wished my voice was stronger, that I was stronger, but the tears fell.

Gabe dismounted, tied the horse’s lead, and leaned against the rail. Tucker sat down on the steps leading up to the porch and put his elbows on his thighs. He tipped his hat back so he could meet my watery gaze.

“What has y