Their Reluctant Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 6)

I glanced at the men, who were leaning against one of the tables, metal cups in hand, drinking some of the beer that had been tapped from the cask that sat in the shady part of the creek. Their eyes were on me. One set fair, the other dark. Their gazes held heat and a promise of something very carnal. Was that what they wanted from me? Of course. Every man wanted to slake his needs in his wife’s body. These two could have any woman they wanted, even pay for a saloon girl or two. They didn’t need to wed anyone, let alone me. It was the why of it that I didn’t understand.

“Mrs. Woodhouse.”

A deep voice cut through my reverie and I broke the men’s gazes.

Spinning on my heel, I was face to face with him.

I took a step back, but he closed the distance. He’d said his name was Ralph when he’d come calling the other day. Frank had been buried only just that morning when he’d knocked on the door. He’d pushed his way into the house, knocking me back. The man was a brute. A bully. By the smell of him, he hadn’t bathed in some time. His dark hair was greasy and matted where it stuck out from beneath his hat. He’d refused to remove it. While it showed his lack of manners in front of a lady, I hadn’t needed that indicator. Nothing about him said gentleman.

“I offered you the time to think you had a choice, Mrs. W

oodhouse.”

I crinkled my nose at his foul breath. I retreated another step and this time he didn’t follow. The soft breeze helped cut the stench of his powerful body odor.

“You will come to the back door of the saloon on Saturday night. You need not concern yourself with wardrobe, for I’m sure you will be outfitted with something more appropriate for your new role… or perhaps in nothing at all.”

His eyes roved over my body and I felt dirty.

I shook my head. “I am not responsible for my husband’s debts.”

He grinned, showing off a gap in his lower line of teeth where a tooth should have been.

“He owes me five big ones. You’ll pay it off or I’ll tell the sheriff how your husband died.”

My eyes widened and I felt all blood drain from my head. Dark spots flickered around the evil man’s head.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep from fainting. I wasn’t a fainter and I wouldn’t start now. “How… what? I do not know to what you speak.”

He chuckled and waggled his eyebrows. “I guess frying pans aren’t just for cooking potatoes.”

He knew. Oh, God, he’d seen me hit Frank. But how? It had been late at night. The house was dark. He couldn’t know.

I waved my arms about the parlor. “Take what you want. Surely that clock or one of the horses should pay for my husband’s debt. You don’t need me.”

He grinned, but it wasn’t with any kind of warmth. His hand came up to touch me, but I stumbled backward. The grin didn’t slip when he went over to the mantel and took the small clock, tucked it under his arm. “This,” he tilted his head to indicate the clock, “is only to appease me since you’ve taken so long to decide. I don’t want things, Mrs. Woodhouse. I want you. You will pay his debt. Come to town or I will drag you there by your hair.”

“Mrs. Woodhouse, we’ve saved a piece of cherry pie for you.”

The voice pulled me from my thoughts. Woodenly, I turned and saw Mr. Tyler standing to my right. When had he approached? In his hand, he did indeed hold a slice of pie.

“Care to introduce me to your friend?” he asked, his voice deep. He eyed Ralph carefully.

Relief washed over me as if I’d been dunked in a cold creek. “No, I think not.” I offered a smile, but was afraid that it was a tad brittle. “That pie looks wonderful. Thank you.”

He held out his arm and I took it gladly, letting him lead me away.

I glanced over my shoulder and Ralph stood where we’d left him, eyeing me.

I turned away.

“Was that man bothering you?” Mr. Tyler asked.

With every step away from Ralph, the better I felt. I was so pleased to be away from the awful man I wanted to kiss Mr. Tyler for the rescue. Ralph, though, was my problem. What he knew was my problem. It was my secret to keep, my secret to solve. My father had given me to the first man who’d matched his ideas for a dutiful woman. I hadn’t met them and Frank had treated me accordingly. He’d lost all our money, hadn’t cared enough about me to keep me safe, to keep the ranch soluble. I could only rely on myself; that much I knew.

If Mr. Tyler found out the truth, he could even have me thrown in jail. I wouldn’t go to prison after what Frank did to me so I would hold my secret safe.

“While I did not enjoy his company, he was not bothering me,” I assured Mr. Tyler, making light of the situation.