Their Kidnapped Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 1)

I couldn't see who spoke as Kane blocked my view. He stood and Ian pulled me in for a hug, my cheek resting against his hard chest.

"There is no need to worry about anything but being our wife."

"You may belong to Kane and Ian, but you are one of us now. We will protect you as our own," another man added.

I didn't understand their ways. These weren't British ways, which I knew to be even more severe than in the American West; some other deeply rooted moral code was at work here. Their conviction for several of them to marry one woman was unusual, to say the least. But they believed it, were impassioned by it. They did not seem to sway, but held firm to this, and somehow, this set me at ease, at least somewhat so.

Kane kissed my hair. "There. Better?"

I nodded against his shirt quite relieved, yet completely overwhelmed.

KANE

One of the luxuries we added to the house when we built it was a water closet, complete with hip tub. We knew any woman would thrill in such a feature, especially during the harsh winter months. As we helped undress Emma and held her hand as she slipped into the warm water, just the look of sheer bliss on her face made all the effort worth it.

Sounds drifted up from downstairs as the noon meal was prepared, but we were far removed tending to Emma. She leaned against the high back, her hair swirling on the surface of the steaming water about her, her breasts bobbing on the surface and her pink nipples plump and lush. Ian glanced at me, his jaw clenching as he shifted his cock in his pants. I knew just how uncomfortable he felt. A hard cock would be a permanent state now.

We'd been gentle with her, but as a virgin, she did not have much chance to come to terms with her new role. Surely being married to two lusty men, living on a ranch with other men with similar leanings and notions, would require adjustment of mind. Her own story would need to be told, but not now, not when everything was so overwhelming. I wanted to know about her bastard step-brother, Thomas, so I could track him down and beat him bloody. He'd done her wrong. She wouldn't have ended up in Mrs. Pratt's auction otherwise. As her husbands, we'd ensure he never harmed Emma ever again. I was reassured knowing she was away from the man and safe at Bridgewater.

After her hair had been washed and her body cleaned, we helped her from the tub and dried her.

"I can do this all myself," she replied, trying to cover body.

"I assure you," I murmured as I rubbed her pink skin with a bath cloth. "This is no hardship."

"Come," Ian said, taking her hand and tugging her out into the hall.

"Ian, I'm naked!" She dug in her heels, but that was not enough resistance to stop the man. All it did was make her breasts sway and that only had me more intent than ever.

"Just the way I like you." He grinned at her over his shoulder. "You will have to learn to appreciate two men seeing how beautiful you are."

I grabbed the shaving supplies and a clean cloth and followed the duo into Ian's room. When I joined them, Emma was held within the firm hold of Ian's arms and they were kissing, his hands roaming up and down her back, then cupping the perfect globes of her arse. When finally he pulled back, Emma's eyes were dark like a stormy sea, her lips pink and swollen.

"I could do that all day, but we have things to do." He gave her one last peck on the lips. "Lay down, lass."

It wasn't hard for Ian to get her onto her back as the man's kiss seemed to have robbed her of all reasonable thought. Which was just the way we needed her for what we were about to do. Ian climbed onto the bed after her, moving so he leaned back against the pillows, pulling Emma up so she was lying against him. Her back to his front.

"Ian, what are you doing?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and glancing up at him. He took this opportunity to give her a lingering kiss.

"Ian is to hold you while I shave you," I told her.

Placing the shaving supplies on the side table, I grabbed the soapy brush and razor and sat down on the large bed as well.

"Shaving?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

Ian's hands slid down her body, taking a moment to cup and then play with her breasts before grabbing her inner thighs and pulling her knees up and back.

"Ian!" She tried to shift from his hold, but leaning against him as she was, she had no leverage.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing her ear and along her neck.

Ian did an excellent job of spreading her open for me, her knees up at the sides of her breasts. I shifted into position between her thighs and quickly began coating her in thick lather.

"I am shaving your cunny."

"Why?" she asked, confused and embarrassed. It was doubtful she real

ized she tilted her head to the side to give Ian better access to her long neck.