Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

She was in shock, stunned and petrified, but whole. What had the man done before she'd fired the shots? Clearly one of bullets had killed him.

"Laurel," I said one more time, my voice deeper and more commanding.

She blinked and turned her head to mine. I saw the moment her eyes focused and she saw me.

"Brody!" she cried, hurling herself into my arms, burying her face in my shoulder. "He...it was awful. I remembered to fire the three shots, but he was coming after me and I only fired two." Her voice was high and she was on the verge of hysteria. I didn't blame her one bit, for I was a little unsettled as well. I couldn't go crazy, though; it was my job to soothe, to make her safe. I'd done a fuck all job of it, having to defend herself from the bloody bastard, but she was safe now. I hugged her tightly.

"No. No, sweetheart. You fired all three and we heard you. We came as fast as we could, but you took care of yourself. I'm so proud of you." I stroked my hand over her hair, again and again, hoping my warmth would seep into her.

"I thought...he had a gun and—"

She shuddered once and then began to sob.

I pulled her up onto my lap and tucked her head beneath my chin, my arm about her waist holding her securely. I did nothing but rock her and let her cry, all the while staring down at Palmer's lifeless body.

I could feel her heart beating, savor the sharp grip of her fingers in my shirt, inhale the floral scent of her hair, and yet I couldn't get her close enough. The thought of losing her, of how close she'd come to being killed had me want to shoot the bastard all over again. She'd literally fallen into our life by the hands of Fate and I wasn't prepared to lose her now. I couldn't lose her.

Mason and McPherson ran up then, the snow crunching beneath their feet and breathing hard. They took in the situation and I met Mason's gaze over Laurel's head. I gave a brief nod and his shoulders dropped in sheer relief. He bent at the waist and lowered his hands to his knees to take a moment to breathe. He mounted the steps and came down on his knees in front of me, stroking his hand down Laurel's back.

"Everything's fine now. You're safe. Mason's here with me and we're going to take care of you," I murmured, although we'd done fuck all to protect her from Palmer.

McPherson came up the steps. "I'll take care of the bastard," he growled, nudging the man's leg even though he was obviously dead. "You two take care of your woman."

Mason took her from my arms and stood, carrying her into the house. I followed, slamming the door shut behind us, blocking out Palmer, the closeness we'd come to losing our wife, to everything.

McPherson and the others would deal with Palmer for us. Laurel needed her men.

I followed Mason up the stairs and into his bedroom and I closed the door behind us. Lowering her to the floor, Mason set her back from him so he could look at her. I moved to stand directly beside him.

"Sweetheart, did he hurt you?" he asked.

My gaze raked over her body. Her dress wasn't torn; it was only dirty in spots from where she’d been sitting on the porch. Her hair had come undone and tears stained her pale cheeks, but otherwise she looked...whole.

She shook her head. "No. He...he just grabbed me, but I'm not hurt."

Mason's hands went to the buttons on her new dress. "We're going to take this off you and take a look and make sure. You've had a scare."

"We've all had a scare," I added. "Let your men make sure you're not hurt."

She glanced between us and nodded. "For you, yes."

Mason's hands moved quicker now. He stripped the dress, her corset, even her stockings and boots so she stood before us naked. I ran my hands over her shoulders and down her arms as Mason worked his way up her body. There were red marks above her elbows that might bruise, and my jaw clenched at the sight. I moved to stand behind her so she was surrounded by the two of us, my hands moving up and down her back, past the little dimples at the base of her spine, over her lush arse, then back up again. We needed to touch all of her, to ensure she was whole, real and ours.

"He...he said we were married. He had a license." Even though we touched her, she was distracted.

My hands paused. "A marriage license?"

She nodded. "A judge signed it and it looked official. He said my marriage to Mason wasn't real."

Mason shook his head. "Our marriage is real, sweetheart. There's no question. Palmer could have bribed a judge, but God joined us. Before that, were joined when we took your virginity. Hell, we claimed you the first time we saw you."

He said just what I was thinking.

"I...I shot him. I didn't mean to, but he was coming toward me. I...kneed him in his...there, and then I ran but he recovered and—"

Christ. She'd have to live with killing Palmer for the rest of her life. Every man at Bridgewater had killed before; it had been our job to do so. But not Laurel. She'd had to shoot a man dead or die herself.

"You were defending yourself. You did nothing wrong. He was a bad man." Mason stroked her arms.