Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 3)

"How did you find me?" I'd thought I'd been hidden so well.

"I knew all along, of course. I just wanted to wait a few days to ensure the men had well and truly claimed you—which I can see they have." He glanced down at my bodice and my cheeks heated. "Also to let you know what your man is really like and you can live with the knowledge that I orchestrated it all."

His answer had me connecting pieces of the past week together as if it were a puzzle, one piece interlocking into another. His story actually fit, but I didn't believe it. I had to get away from the man but as I struggled, he backhanded me across the face, white spots dancing in my vision and the sharp sting of his strike made me wince.

"I'm also here to take what you refused to give before. If you already fuck three men, you should not object to one more."

I shook my head and fought him, clawing my hand down his face, my nails digging into his jowls. His hold loosened and I remembered Uncle Allen's advice regarding unwanted advances. I brought my knee up with all my might between his legs, hoping his cock would now be useless. He bent at the waist and a high pitched sound came from his throat, his hand releasing me. I didn't linger, but fled down the hall and out the front door. I ran blindly toward the stable. I had to get away, away from Mr. Peters at all costs. I could go run home to Uncle Allen, but I had no home; it had been burned and Uncle Allen had his own family. My hair came unbound and my breath came out in deep pants. A stitch pained my side but I kept going. My men. I needed my men.

SIMON

While we fucked Olivia frequently and with thorough attention, we’d spent more time out of bed than in three days after our return to Bridgewater. We learned she was an accomplished rider and could herd cattle like a ranch hand with years in the saddle. She was well educated and could speak of books in the evening with Rhys, which fascinated me. I wasna book smart, but could appreciate a lively debate. As Cross showed her how to cook eggs without burning them, they laughed. and I reveled in the way her eyes brightened. I watched quietly, biding my time, for I was always ready to rip the buttons from her dress or toss up her skirts to test her readiness for my cock. She took to our rule of no drawers and it was verra pleasant reaching beneath her dress to find her bare, slick and ready.

Olivia and I didna talk much. We mostly fucked, for this was the connection we shared. If we came upon each other in a hallway, we didna speak, but grabbed each other with frantic, hands and kissed carnally, almost roughly, until I could lift and carry her to a place where I could fuck her. She'd even help, lifting her skirts for me or unbuttoning her bodice to offer her plush breasts. It was elemental and raw and when we were joined, we didna need any words. We were frantic for each other, almost desperate in our need to be close.

It wasna a deep connection like she had with Rhys or comfortable as what she had with Cross. We were more heat and fire, not needing to talk when all we wished to do was get naked—or as naked as we needed to be —for us to fuck. On occasion, Rhys or Simon would hear our rough coupling and join us, but it was I who got her hot, who was able to stoke the lust in those pale, expressive eyes.

After a day of moving rock and digging fence posts, we were all dirty, sweaty and hungry. All I wanted to do was bathe off all the mud and then sink into my wife.

Just this morning, she was verra fetching in her pale blue dress, a color that matched her eyes perfectly. I didna comment on it as Rhys had, but I had shown her how much I liked it by pressing her up against the kitchen door, dropping to my knees before her, lifting her skirts up high enough so I could lick and taste her bare pussy, working her with my fingers until she came, dripping all over my mouth and chin. Rhys and Cross had made breakfast and watched, and all of us agreed that upon our return from the repairs, we wanted her breasts out and on offer.

I didna feel right leaving her behind and unprotected, although I kent she was safe on the ranch; the other women remained at home as well by their men without concern. It wasna that they were less vigilant, for all of the men at Bridgewater put the women and children above all else, but I knew first hand what could happen if I relaxed in my duties to protect her.

While in Mohamir, we'd been tasked to watch over a Mohamiran diplomat and his family. I'd been assigned Alea, the sixteen-year-old daughter to guard. I was many years her senior and felt a keen need to protect her. There was no connection as I had with Olivia, not only because she was too young and our cultural differences too vast, but more because her father trusted me with her life.

We were no longer under the command of the fucking bastard, Evers, who'd singlehandedly murdered Alea and her family. I would not let Olivia down as I had Alea, as we all had her family. It was this incident, this dead family's faces that haunted me still. I was older, wiser and no longer in Mohamir. This was my job in this marriage, to ensure Olivia's safety, for she was a part of me. She was mine.

As we rode back to the ranch, one of the hands met us, his horse winded from the pace the man set.

He tilted his hat back. "Ann saw a man at your house. She said it could be Olivia's uncle, but she couldn't be sure."

I shook my head. "Nay. He wouldna come here and risk the bastard Peters following him."

We glanced at each other and spurred our horses toward the house. After a swift search, she wasna there. My gut clenched and I knew instantly something was wrong.

Rhys' eyes narrowed and his shoulders went back. His entire bearing changed. "The stables?" he asked.

'Twas possible, so I gave a curt nod and we both mounted and spurred our animals in that direction. When we rode up, dust kicking up around us, I called out to Kane, who was outside. "Is Olivia here?"

He shook his head. "Ian just came from our house. She's not there."

"Bloody hell," I muttered, glancing out and along the horizon. I tried not to clench my teeth, but I had the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Where the bloody hell was she?

"Is there a horse missing?"

Kane turned on his heel and went to look.

"Christ," Cross muttered.

I looked up at the sky. About two more hours of daylight left. We had to find her, and soon.

Kane ran out, his feet sliding on the dusty ground. "The new stud horse is missing."

"We'll find her," I vowed, my fists clenching. "We just need to ken which way she went."

CHAPTER TEN

CROSS