Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

Sully dipped his hand about her waist, placing it lower than proper so his little finger brushed over the delectable curve of her ass. It did not go unnoticed.

The stationmaster blew his whistle and the train began to hiss and chug, the noise of the train cars tugging and pulling each other into motion was too loud to talk over. While neither Benson nor Millard had muscle—or guns—they had money and could hire both. Sully’s life was on the line now. He knew it. I could see it in their harsh glares. They didn’t need to say a thing, to insinuate anything. Before the train was completely away, they’d turned and left. While I wished it was the last I’d see of them, I knew that wasn’t to be the case.

Sully moved Mary away so we could both look at her. “Are you all right?”

She tilted her head back and glanced between the two of us, nodded. She took a deep breath, then another. “I appreciate your assistance, but I fear I’ve probably put you in some danger.”

I laughed. “They can try, sweetheart. They can try. I don’t think we should stay in town though.”

“Mmm, yes,” Mary commented. “I’m sure we’ll be banned from all hotels, restaurants, even boardinghouses within the hour. My father’s reach is vast.”

She didn’t seem fearful anymore, or angry. Dejected, perhaps.

I glanced at Sully

. “We’ll go to Bridgewater where it’s safe. I assume you have no reason to stay in Butte any longer.”

She looked up at Sully and frowned. “You’ve… you’ve done your job. I’ve gotten both men to leave me alone, and now that they believe we’re… intimate, Mr. Benson won’t want me anymore.”

Sully laughed then. “I still want you, virgin or not. It’s not your pussy Benson’s after, but your inheritance. For me, it’s definitely the other way around.”

Her mouth fell open at his crude words. She was definitely a virgin. I’d bet fifty dollars on it.

“There’s no chance we’re leaving you here in Butte to fend for yourself,” Sully added. “You’ll be married to Benson at first light if he gets his hands on you, and that’s only going to happen if we’re dead. I said I’d help you, that I’d be your husband and I’m following through with it.”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” I added, running a gentle hand up and down her arm, shifting so she stood between us, right where she belonged. “You’re stuck with us.”

“At Bridgewater, we’ll be prepared if your father or Benson sends men,” Sully added.

“Oh God, he’ll kill you to get to me.” Color leached from her face.

I took hold of her shoulders and stooped so we were eye to eye. “He’ll try, but he won’t succeed. Do you doubt that Sully and I can take care of ourselves, that we can take care of you?”

She looked over her shoulder at Sully, then back at me. “No.”

I smiled then. “Good girl.”

“The sun’s setting and we have no supplies,” Sully commented.

“Which I doubt we’ll be able to collect. Horses, either,” I added. If Benson and Millard had their way, we’d be banned from every business, livery or even a Chinese laundry by morning. They had their own kind of power.

“We need a place to stay tonight. Someplace safe. Someplace they’ll never look,” I added, looking to Sully for ideas.

Mary turned on her heel and started walking. The platform was practically empty now that the train was gone and we caught up to her quickly with our long strides.

“I know just the place,” she said. “Gentlemen, how do you feel about whores?”

CHAPTER THREE

SULLY

“Sweetheart, you’ve got some explaining to do,” I leaned down and whispered in Mary’s ear.

She’d led us across town to the back door of The Briar Rose brothel. There hadn’t been enough time for Millard or Benson to send out some goons to harass us so our walk had been uneventful. I hated Butte. Any city for that matter. There were too many people, too many ways to get in trouble. I went out of my way to avoid trouble, but today, it happened upon us in the form of a blond-haired vixen. Oh, she was innocent all right, but she tempted me—and Parker—all the same. There had been no question that she was the woman for us, problems and all.

So instead of avoiding conflict or any chance of additional strife in my life, I accepted Mary’s as my own. What troubled her, troubled me. What was intending to hurt her, I took care of. There was no way she could be anything but my wife. With my fucking history, I was the safest choice for her. No one would bother her based on being married to me alone. But Mary seemed to lead us from one surprise to another. What virgin miss knew about the kitchen door of a brothel? What innocent was welcomed within with a familiarity that proved she’d visited before?

“A brothel?” Parker asked.