Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 3)

The idea was stunning and yet this was most definitely what wanton felt like. Tentatively, I touched mine to his and it was Cross' turn to groan. The sound had my heart pounding, had me feeling triumphant that I could actually please him with a simple kiss.

"Share," Rhys grumbled.

I felt Cross smile against my lips before he pulled back and propped me upright in his arms. "Ah, it seems I am not the only one who wishes to kiss you, love."

I knew my cheeks were bright red, for it was one thing for a woman to have her first kiss, it was another altogether to do it with two other men watching. So enraptured, I'd completely forgotten they were there.

Was I supposed to just get up and move on to the next man? It seemed awkward and very bold to do so. Before I could decide what I should do, Rhys pulled me out of Cross' arms and onto his own lap. He grinned down at me, the look wicked and friendly at the same time. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you at the dance."

I frowned. "I thought...I thought you were mad at me for questioning your honor."

"We have a higher standard to which you are accustomed, but no, I was not mad."

"Then you are willing to marry a woman just because you want to kiss her?"

He ran his knuckles over my cheek. "I want to do more than just kiss you."

I had a vague idea to what he referred and I was equally pleased and petrified.

"It's like you said, love. I just knew."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. He’d seemed so indifferent when the dance had ended. Then I remembered his vehement demand that I promise to seek his help if needed, and felt better.

He lowered his head and said, "Truly." I could feel the words against my lips then only the delectable pressure of his mouth on mine. Other than his lips on mine, the two kisses were completely different. Where Cross coaxed and played, Rhys delved and claimed. He angled his lips over mine and plunged his tongue into my mouth as if he needed me to breathe, as if he put his all into the kiss. My hands tangled in his hair, the feeling of silk slipping through my fingers. He tasted of peppermint, completely different than Cross. Even his scent was different. My skin tingled on my chin where his whiskers rasped.

"Does it feel as if we are strangers, love?" he asked, his nose brushing against mine.

I put my hands to my lips. They felt swollen and slick and hot.

"It feels as if you belong to me. To us. You are ours."

My body...it felt as if, as if...I couldn't explain it. I felt...hot and relaxed and tense and desperate and needy and confused and so many other things all at the same time. Beneath that, though, I felt...home. It was as if these men were familiar to me yet completely new all at the same time. It was quite strange and I did not readily understand, and as I felt prone to babble when nervous or overwhelmed, I decided it was best if I remained silent.

"Ye will have three husbands, lass, nae two." Simon murmured, the fiercest looking of the bunch, held out his hand in the space between us and sat patiently waiting. His dark pants were drawn tight over well muscled thighs and his shirt—snug over his broad shoulders—only defined how broad, how big, how, oh, enticing he was. He was letting me decide when, and if, I'd come to him next.

The room was quiet; only the ticking of a clock on the mantel and my soft panting breaths could be heard. Where my uncle and his...family went, I had no idea. I met Simon's dark eyes, searched for something, anything that indicated that he would treat me falsely, that he had less honor or integrity than the others.

I had to trust that these feelings I had were an accurate indicator of these men—men—being right for me. I'd waited for it all my life and now, once it happened, I was uncertain. I had to take a blind leap of faith, and Simon, Cross and Rhys were as well. They were sure, so very sure of this match and I was as much a stranger to them.

I climbed from Rhys' lap and placed my hand in Simon's. Placed my faith, my blind trust and hopefully my heart with him. With all three of them.

CHAPTER FOUR

SIMON

It was right then, when she looked at me with those ice blue eyes that held such nervousness, fear and hope that I kent Rhys and Cross were correct. She was the one for us. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. The dark hair and light eyes was a striking combination. While she was covered from neck to floor in her uncle's heavy and unflattering robe, I'd caught a quick glimpse of her in her own flimsy nightclothes and had seen her woman's shape. She was so small that I seemed a giant in comparison and I would feel terrible if I hurt her with even the most gentle of touches. How was she going to handle three men whose sexual needs were prolific enough where we would make almost constant use of her body? She would love it, we would ensure that, but just looking at her had a cock stand press painfully against my pant

s.

There was nae question to her virtue; the woman was a virgin and a very innocent one at that. I'd wager a bottle of the finest Scottish whiskey that she'd just had her verra first kiss, her first contact with a man. With men. Now I knew why my brothers—while our brotherhood was nae from blood, we were brothers nonetheless—were so adamant about her at the saloon. I would have reacted the same, ye ken. Nae harm would come to her again, nae while I was alive. And if I died protecting her, I would ken that Rhys and Cross would be there for her. That was the way in Mohamir and we respected the practice enough to want to live it ourselves. It had only been a dream, until now.

Now, Olivia's hand was in mine and I knew she was offering up more than just a simple touch. She was giving me things she didn't even know we would take. With that came trust and I wouldna do anything to tarnish that. Instead of setting her upon my lap as the other two had, I pulled her into the cradle of my legs so she stood directly before me, placing her hand on my chest. I wanted her at ease with me, a complete stranger.

As I held her gaze, my hands moved to her waist and they spanned her completely, my thumbs touching in the front, fingers at her spine. Her breath escaped in shallow pants and her eyes widened.

"Perhaps the order was a bit off, but since I'm to be yer husband, I should introduce myself. I'm Simon Angus McPherson of the clan McPherson, although these days I hale from Bridgewater. I may have been a wee lad in the Highlands, but I belong here, in the Territory."

I heard the knocker on the front door and Olivia's body tensed beneath my palms. "Nay, lass, tis only the minister."