Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

"No, that's not true. It's not real. We were married in a church."

"It's real. The circuit judge signed it, therefore your supposed marriage to the Bridgewater man means nothing."

Means nothing? My marriage to Mason...and Brody meant everything. They were the first people to see me as a person, as a woman, not a pawn or a tool to someone's advantage. They hadn't married me then sent me off somewhere. I knew now what it felt like to be cared for, for someone to care about me. They'd shown me what love was.

"No." I shook my head. "No. You need to talk to my father. If he signed the ranch over to me, just have him change it. I want nothing to do with this. As I've said, I barely know the man, so why would he listen to me?"

His grip tightened on my arm at the mention of my father.

"I know him rather well, actually, and he can't change it if he's dead."

I stilled in his hold. What did he mean? "Dead? My...my father's dead?"

Something dark and evil flared in his eyes and he grinned. "He tried to cross me, to keep me from getting the land that rightfully was mine. From you. He was stupid to think he'd get away with it. Of course he's dead. I shot him...right...between...the...eyes." He tapped a finger to his forehead. "Just like I’m going to do to you."

He'd killed my father and now I was alone in the house with him. The wild look about him had me panicking, fighting against his hold.

"I can't help you with whatever your plan is if I'm dead, too." I needed to escape! Being alone in the house with him was not going to keep me alive. He'd plotted this all along. When they'd come to the ranch the other day, Palmer had been the one in control. My father only wanted to find me because he owed Palmer.

"I wanted you, at first. The idea of a meek virgin who'd been sheltered as if she were a nun held appeal, but you've been a whore here on Bridgewater. I don't take sloppy seconds." He slowly shook his head. "No, my plans for you have changed. I don't need you alive to inherit your land with this marriage license. In fact, I need you dead."

My eyes widened and blood roared in my ears. "What? Why?"

"Marriage makes the land rightfully mine regardless of whether I'm your husband...or widower. Since you're used goods and worth nothing to me, widower is more appropriate. I want the land. It's more valuable than you."

He carefully put the supposed marriage license back in his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun. A gun! I didn't think, just reacted. I grabbed his wrist in both my hands, fighting with him to keep the weapon from pointing in my direction, but he was stronger and bigger than I. Twisting and turning, I used all my might and struggled with him, but a shot fired. Fortunately, it went wide and into a wall. I gasped at the shock of it, the nearness of the bullet to my head. The sound was deafening and my ear rang.

I remembered the words of a teacher at school, who mentioned a way to defend inappropriate advances of an overeager suitor. At the time, I didn't imagine it would work for I barely had contact with men to even consider the idea, but I now knew a man's physique. I brought my knee up as hard as I could, sliding it right up the man's inner thigh and I connected squarely with his...man parts. I couldn't think of it as a cock, for that was what Mason and Brody had and theirs were hard and thick and ready for me. This man...I swallowed back bile at the very idea. He made a high-pitched squeak and bent at the waist. His arm went lax and I was able to grab the gun from him.

I was breathing hard, sweat coating my brow. I kneed him one more time before I dashed out of the room, my long dress tangling around my legs. All I could think of was getting to Mason and Brody, having their arms around me, protecting me, sheltering me from everything bad. With fumbling fingers, I opened the front door and dashed out onto the porch. I held the gun up into the air and fired a shot, the kick from it reverberating up my arm.

I remembered what Emma and Ann had said. Three shots meant help was needed. I fired again, my eyes squeezing shut and my body tensing.

"You!" Mr. Palmer was hunched over, but approaching quickly down the hall. His eyes were narrowed and an evil gleam showed. It was as if I'd poked a hibernating bear and not only did he have intent, he was now very, very angry. "You bitch. You are going to—"

As he came through the door with his arms out to grab me, I turned and aimed. It was him or me. Bang.

MASON

That morning we had given Laurel one of the pretty dresses Emma had picked out for her. It was a dark green that flattered her hair and matched her eye color perfectly. Both Brody and I had enjoyed her walking around in just a corset, then just her corset and stockings over the past two days, but I also thrilled to know that I could just toss up her dress and find her bare and ready beneath. I liked knowing that all of her hot, wet secrets were hidden for Brody and me alone.

We were both in the stable, mucking out stalls when McPherson came in leading his horse. "I see you've left yer bride." He grinned at us as he patted his horse's side, and then worked the buckle free on the saddle. "Took ye both, what, a week for yer cock stands to go down?"

I looked to Brody who was shaking his head slowly, but he had a grin on his face for he was well pleased with his new bride—as was I. We knew we'd get some grief from the others, especially the unmarried men, taking so long to tend and fuck our new wife. "No chance in hell of that happening. I just have to think of her and I get hard."

In fact, I shifted my cock in my pants to ease the growing ache as we spoke about her. It had only been two hours since we fucked her last, but my cock didn't care.

"Have ye heard the news?" McPherson asked, lifting the saddle off the animals back and placing it on a rack. He removed the blanket next.

"News?" I rested my forearms on the top of the pitchfork I held.

"Turner's dead."

Brody stilled, glanced at me. "Dead? How?"

"Shot in cold blood."

I shoved the pitchfork into a pile of straw and walked over to McPherson. "What do you mean cold blood?"