Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

Andrew grinned. "I have no doubt of that."

I patted the man on the shoulder. "She's the one, Andrew.

His eyebrows went up in surprise. "You're sure?"

"We're sure. I'm not going to punish her for her secrets. That will gain us nothing. I want her biddable. If she's going to be ours, she needs to start her training now."

Andrew's eyebrows went up in surprise as he placed his boots in front of the cast iron stove to warm. "You've fucked her?"

I frowned. "Hell, no."

My friend held up his hands in surrender.

"We're honorable enough to wait until she's truly ours before we claim her. That doesn't mean we can't show her our ways."

MASON

There was no way in bloody hell I'd let her put her dress back on. Seeing her in just my shirt only made her even more mine. Ours. Knowing she wore nothing underneath, that her pretty nipples were poking against the material, that the red curls on her pussy were easily accessible, had me hard. Hell, even after I'd spent my seed on her I was still hard. She was marked. Besides her unique floral, sweet scent, she smelled of fucking. I couldn't wait to mark her on the inside as well by filling her delectable pussy with my cum. I knew Brody felt the same.

Before Andrew left, he'd invited us to their house for the evening meal, which was good because Laurel would see the dynamic Ann had with two husbands. Regardless of her past, Laurel was going to be our wife. She was a horrendous liar; every emotion she felt flitted across her face—indecision, wariness, even deceit. She was deceiving us by keeping secrets.

"What do you think?" I asked Brody, my voice low. Laurel was in the bath in the washroom. We were downstairs adding logs to the fireplaces and stoves to keep the house warm.

He glanced up at the ceiling as if he could see her through it. "I believe everything except her father's name. Never heard of him."

"Neither have I. If she ran away, she can't be protecting him. She's protecting herself. But why? We saved her from certain death. We wouldn't hurt her."

Brody shrugged. "She doesn't know that."

I frowned at the thought. We'd never hurt a woman. Never. Everyone at Bridgewater protected women. Cherished them. "Then we must show her. She's so bloody beautiful." I ran a hand over my beard. "Her hair is memorable. If she's been living around here, we'd have known."

Brody nodded. "Every man within a hundred miles would be after her."

"Good thing she ended up here."

"Where did she come from?"

I didn't have an answer. Only Laurel would be able to tell us.

"She's ours," Brody growled.

"No question. So we wait for her to tell us?"

Brody opened the door on the stove in the kitchen, stuffed a log in and shut it. He tossed the cloth he'd used to protect his hand on the table. "Does the past really matter?"

I shook my head. "I'd rather train her than question her, wouldn't you?"

"Hell, yes. I spoke to Andrew before he left. They'll help any way they can."

***

An hour later, I carried a bundled up Laurel into Andrew and Robert's house. Her coat was still damp and I'd cut the laces of her boots so we wrapped her in a blanket to keep warm on the walk. It was a short distance, only five minutes, but the air was crisp and the sun had set offering no additional warmth. The trio met us at the door

way and took our things, the scent of stew and baked bread filled the air. There was a roaring fire in the hearth and it was warm and comfortable. Since their marriage to Ann, the house had turned into a home.

"It is good to see you again, Laurel," Andrew said. "May I introduce Robert and our wife, Ann? Christopher is in the cradle near the fireplace, napping."

Robert had dark hair and a beard similar to mine, although he was shorter and stockier than I. Ann was petite with pale blond hair. Since the birth of baby Christopher her slim figure had filled out and was quite lush.