Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 3)

I couldn't sleep, too restless with the handsome faces of Mr. Cross and Mr. Rhys haunting me as I tossed and turned. I relived every moment of both dances, their words, the feel of their hands upon me, their distinct scents, Mr. Rhys' unusual accent. Everything. I groaned. Nothing would erase their images from my mind so I put on my robe and went to the kitchen for a snack.

"You were quite a catch at the dance," Uncle Allen said, surprising me as I came into the room. I should have seen him there, and it was clear indication my mind was wandering. He had a cup of coffee in hand, the steam rising from the top. How he could drink something so strong and fall asleep afterward was beyond me.

I went to the icebox and took out the pitcher of milk, poured myself a glass and joined him at the table. We took our meals in the kitchen, the two of us simple enough where we did not need to eat in the much larger dining room. While Uncle Allen was quite wealthy, he did not flaunt it and I'd grown up the same. The house wasn't large or ostentatious like others nearby where money was flaunted; it was just big enough for us to be content. We were both simple people with basic needs.

I could feel my cheeks heat and so I took my time drinking my milk to collect myself. "Yes," I replied neutrally.

"Two men especially were very handsome and seemed very taken with you."

Handsome? Mr. Cross and Mr. Rhys were not just handsome. They were stunning, virile, strong, intense. They were...lightning.

He had a hint of gray in his hair, but otherwise his age did not show. He was well connected in the Helena community and beyond through his work. The fact that he knew men from the Bridgewater Ranch was quite a coincidence, yet showed how powerful he was in the Territory. While he was busy with all of his endeavors, I wasn't as settled, perhaps because I'd been waiting for something more. Lightning. I'd been waiting for that.

I could not avoid looking at Uncle Allen any longer. He had always been able to see all of my secrets, although I did not have many. "They are both very handsome, both very...manly," I replied, trying to be as neutral as possible.

He smiled. "They are that. I know some of the other men from Bridgewater quite well. I have nothing but good things to say and if you are ame

nable, if these men come calling, I will be more than happy to welcome them into our home."

"Them? I doubt one will come, let alone both of them."

"I believe Rhys said there's a third man from Bridgewater here in town as well. Simon McPherson."

A third. Could he possibly be as attractive as the other two?

"Nothing will come from meeting either man," I said, cutting off any hope he may have at making a match. "They are not from here and clearly spent the evening dancing with women to pass the time as they are here on business."

"I did not see either man dance with any other woman," he countered, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

My heart leapt at that thought, but surely he was mistaken. I shook my head at the silly notion. "It matters not. They are most likely on their way back to Bridgewater as we speak."

"At this time of night?" He shook his head. "I will not force any man upon you, nor will I keep you from one who has captured your heart. As I said, you will know when the right man comes along."

I took a sip of my milk, and then said, "What if it feels right with more than one man?"

I winced, worrying my uncle would think me too forward.

"More than one man?" He considered, but did not seem stunned by my question. "You mean both Bridgewater men?"

I nodded.

"I am not adverse to the notion of a woman having more than one man protect her. So, did the lightning strike twice, then?"

He grinned and I blushed.

"You don't think something's wrong with the feeling of lightning striking with two men?" Surely something was wrong with me if I did so, or I'd have to pick one and that would be quite hard.

"Olivia, I have something to tell you. You're well old enough now to know and, hopefully, to understand. I—"

The sound of broken glass followed by a loud crash cut off Uncle Allen's words.

He stood quickly, his chair scraping against the floor as he ran toward the front of the house. I followed along directly behind him.

I smelled smoke before I saw it and then there were the flames.

"Fire!"

CHAPTER THREE