Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

“Thank you, Judge.” Miss Rose patted the man on the arm in a placating gesture. He seemed relieved it was over and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty brow. “Please tell Elise that your drinks tonight are my treat.”

The man didn’t linger, but fled the kitchen at a pace that belied his size.

Miss Rose smiled. “Congratulations, Mary. You may not believe me, but you have a fine husband. Two fine husbands. All men from Bridgewater are honorable. Loyal. Loving.”

Mary nodded, but had no basis to offer a response. Besides, she looked a little overwhelmed. The deal was done. It was legal. She belonged now to me. And Parker.

“Go up those stairs, the second room on the left.” Miss Rose pointed upward. “I think, gentlemen, that you will find it suitable for tonight.”

Miss Rose took Mary’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze of reassurance, before following in the judge’s wake, dragging Chloe along with her, who winked just before the door shut behind her.

“Alone with our bride in a Butte brothel,” I said, the corner of my mouth tipping up.

Parker laughed, took Mary’s hand. I was sure he felt as relieved as I, knowing she was ours. Officially, legally, permanently. “Whatever shall we do?”

CHAPTER FOUR

MARY

Every visit to The Briar Rose I’d been stunned, amused, even awed by what I’d witnessed, but now, I was a little afraid. I’d felt separate from it all, in a separate room, hiding and watching. A voyeur. From what Chloe said, I was someone who liked to observe others in very compromising situations. It was arousing. Sometimes not. But when a couple did things together that were intriguing, I found my skin heating, my nipples tightening and my pussy getting wet. I dreamed about it. Longed for it for myself. But that had all been fantasy.

Now… now I had two husbands who were eyeing me with an eagerness I recognized. For the first time, that desire was directed squarely at me. Watching was one thing, but doing… I was afraid of what they thought of my curiosity and would find me either lacking or a slattern.

Perhaps both, for I’d brought these men to a brothel! It had been my first thought, the first place that I knew neither my father nor Mr. Benson would consider looking for us. My father never knew I had been to the establishment for the auxiliary and would never imagine me going voluntarily. I had not considered the ramifications of my quick decision—obviously, since I was now married and had two eager husbands wanting to consummate the marriage.

I refused to look them in the eye, afraid I would see shame on their faces.

“Mr. Sullivan—”

With a finger, he tilted my chin up so I was forced to meet his dark eyes, the heat I saw in them a surprise. He was so handsome. So tall, his hair dark and unruly and I was eager to run my fingers through it.

“Since I’m your husband, I think you can call me Sully.”

“Sully,” I repeated.

“No more Mr. Corbin either. I’m Parker, to you.” His voice was gentle, tender even.

“What you two must think of me.” I felt my cheeks heat.

Parker frowned. “Think of you?”

I wrung my hands and tried to look away, but Sully would have none of it. I was forced to keep his gaze as I admitted my failings.

My heart pounded, my original brashness having fled. “We’re going to spend our wedding night in a brothel!”

“You just discovered I killed four people. I have to wonder what you think of me,” Sully admitted, letting me go.

I looked at him. Really looked. While he was stunningly handsome, he was also very big and physically strong. I had no defense if he wished me harm. On the train—had that only been a few hours earlier?—he’d been quiet, yet solicitous. He’d been gentle as he’d guided me to the dining car, attentive in conversation and watchful for any harm that might befall me. I’d felt safe with him. Discovering he’d killed men while defending the weak hadn’t been as surprising as I’d expected. If someone had intended harm upon my person while we were traveling, I had no doubt Sully would have defended me at whatever measure necessary. For him to mete final justice to those deserving was part of his character.

“Miss Rose thinks highly of you. I trust her judgement,” I replied.

His dark brow lifted. “Her judgement is enough?”

“We barely know each other and I have to rely on friends to help guide me. You have Parker. I’m sure that you have bigger faults than protecting those in danger.”

His dark eyebrows rose even further in surprise.

I clasped my hands together, wrung them. “My father. He’s a churchgoer, a millionaire, business owner. A pillar of the community. He was going to marry me to Mr. Benson in exchange for some arrangement with their mines. Then there’s Mr. Benson. He came here.” I pointed at the floor to indicate the brothel. “He… hurt a girl using a whip. A whip! And did other things. Things I knew he would want with me. Or, or he’d do nothing with me. Just get me with child—a boy, of course—then ignore me. If I didn’t give him a boy, I would always worry I’d die like his former wives. So being with someone who’s killed isn’t the problem, but the motivation behind it.”