Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

“But… all the girls. None of them marry the men they take upstairs!” Mary’s voice rose as she became upset. “Why me?”

“Are you a whore?” Miss Rose asked bluntly.

Mary looked away. “No,” she whispered.

“Then you will marry. I will not allow you to accept anything less. If your mother were alive, she would agree.”

The idea of Mary alone with her father, of his ruthless plans for her, made me even more eager to get this wedding done.

Mary looked at both of us. “I… just met you today,” she admitted. “How can you be so sure of this?”

I moved to stand directly in front of her. If she took a deep breath, her breasts would touch my chest. I ran my knuckles down her soft cheek. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head into the touch.

She wanted us; she was just too innocent to understand what she was feeling. It was overwhelming and fast, but right.

“You’ve known Benson for quite some time. Length of acquaintance does not guarantee a good match.”

Chloe patted her arm. “It’s true, honey. Sometimes you just have a connection. When you do, grab hold of the man—or men—and never let go.”

Mary didn’t seem swayed all that much, but she surprised me when she tilted her chin up, looked at Parker, then at me.

“I won’t marry a man… or men, who cheat. Visiting Chloe here over the past year has opened my eyes to the number of married men—men I know from church even—who are philanderers. I can’t abide by that.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Miss Rose. “You can’t force me to marry them if that is the case.”

She was adamant and fiery about her opinion and while I should have been offended by her negative assumptions of our honor, I respected her for it. Miss Rose couldn’t argue; clearly she only wanted the best for Mary and that was not a cheat for a husband.

“Mary.” Parker put his hand on his chest, directly over his heart. “You’re ours. While you’ll be legally wed to Sully, you will be my wife, too. I will want no other. I swear I will be faithful.”

“As do I,” I added.

Mary angled her head toward me. Her mind was working, debating, considering.

Miss Rose looked at us, then at Mary, waiting.

Mary’s eyes held no confusion, no fear, nothing but determination as she considered our vows. These words were more important than the marriage ceremony that was to come.

“All right.” She nodded her head, as if she needed that gesture to accompany the words. To me, her declaration was enough. “We can’t go to the church. My father will know.”

Miss Rose waved her hand through the air. “Your father may be powerful in this town, but I have connections.” She angled her chin toward the door to the front parlor. “Out there is Judge Rathbone. I have no doubt he’ll be happy to preside over your nuptials.”

The way Miss Rose worded the last, I assumed she would entice the judge into participating.

Chloe dashed out of the kitchen, much more eager for this wedding than the bride.

It didn’t take long for the judge to appear, being dragged within against his will by Chloe. For one so small, she was quite strong. The judge was in his fifties and quite gray, overweight and had short, stubby legs. He was missing his suit jacket and his tie was askew, as if he’d been occupied before he was pulled away. He took in the three of us and his eyes widened at the sight of Mary.

“Miss Millard,” he said, his words full of surprise.

“I’m sure this little ceremony will be something we all forget, won’t it, Judge?” Miss Rose asked, her voice as sweet as honey. “Isn’t your wife on the Ladies Auxiliary with Miss Millard?”

The judge’s jowls wobbled as he nodded.

“Then I’m sure Miss Millard and these men will keep secret not only your presence here at The Briar Rose but the things you’ve done tonight with Elise?”

The judge’s eyes widened slightly. He swallowed, thinking about the repercussions. Rolling his shoulders back and taking on a more judge-like bearing, he said, “Who is the groom?”

I stepped forward and took position beside Mary. “I am.”

Just this morning I had no idea I would marry. But here I was, with Parker beside me. We were committing our lives to this woman and there was no going back. I glanced down at Mary; she looked calm and… beautiful. Her blond hair was still as neat as a pin, her dress crisp and her hat still at the perfect angle. She looked completely unaffected by the past two hours, completely resolute. I was, too.