Claiming Catherine (Montana Maiden 1)

He looked down at me, and his mouth quirked up. "You mean fucking?"

I darted a glance left and right to see who may have overheard our frank conversation. "Well...yes."

He thought for a moment. "All right. I won't fuck you until you are ready. Is that amenable?"

Relief coursed through me and I smiled. "Yes, thank you."

"You will still be in my bed." He held up a hand as I opened my mouth to speak. "No fucking, but you are my wife and my wife is in my bed."

It was a fair compromise and I should consider it very accommodating. "All...all right.”

We walked through the small town in silence, glad for the time to absorb my new surroundings. A mercantile, a saloon and several other shops flanked the wide, dirt thoroughfare. A number of small clapboard houses dotted the prairie in the distance. We passed the livery at the edge of town to walk up a small rise to the church, it's steeple no doubt seen for miles from the vast openness all around us. Mr. Bridger tipped his hat to those we passed; he seemed familiar with everyone we encountered.

It was beautiful here. Tall grass, green and yellow, waved in the gentle breeze. Purple mountains were hazy in the distance, but I couldn't get over the feel of freedom. The claustrophobic confines of city life were long gone and would not be missed. Neither would the cruel Mr. Beecham, although he seemed to linger in my thoughts and impacted how I perceived myself. It had been my hope that each mile that had passed I would forget him, but the self doubts he'd raised still lingered. Would Mr. Bridger consider me equally unworthy?

My husband allowed me my thoughts as we walked to the church, for he seemed to have a calm and sensible demeanor. Horses were tied up at a rail in front of the whitewashed building. Mr. Bridger held the door as I entered the cool space. Inside, there was the minister—obvious from his black shirt and white collar—a woman of similar age I assumed his wife, and two other men, equally broad, equally tall, and equally as devastatingly attractive as my husband.

There was no question the three men were brothers. Their hair varied from dark brown to blond, but they all had gazes that pierced right through me, a no-nonsense demeanor, and an air of protectiveness that made me feel at ease and reassured.

Mr. Bridger's hand was at my lower back, and tingles from the simple touch shot through me like a bullet from a rifle, as he led me down the short aisle. Our footfall was loud on the floorboards.

“Mrs. Abernathy, Reverend Abernathy, this is Miss Langton, soon to be Mrs. Bridger in the eyes of God.”

The couple shared their greetings and a kind smile.

“These are my brothers, Sam and Cole.”

Both men looked at me in a way that made the hairs on the nape of my neck rise. It was as if I was in their sights as prey. Their gazes weren’t threatening, but purely dominant. They both came forward and shook my hand, each of theirs large as a dinner plate, engulfing mine. Licks of flame warmed my body in places I wasn't supposed to mention.

Heat once again flooded my cheeks—a constant state, it seemed, shame washing over me as I reacted not only to my betrothed, but to his brothers as well. Maybe something really was wrong with me!

“I understand you were wed via proxy, but this will make you all feel as if it is real. Let's make it official in the eyes of God as well, shall we?” Reverend Abernathy asked.

I looked up at my husband, who stood at my side. He nodded to the minister before taking my hand in his. "You may remove your gloves. They are not worn here in Montana."

I did as he bid and removed them as the other two men moved to stand beside their brother, bearing witness.

The ceremony was short, our “I Do's” simple. Mr. Bridger—I couldn't think of him yet as Jake—didn't slip a ring on my finger, but did kiss me at the completion. A simple, chaste affair, however it did confirm his lips were warm and soft and that I wanted more.

As I opened my eyes after this first kiss, all three male faces had hooded gazes of dark desire.

"Do you plan on corking her here?" the reverend asked.

Cork? Was it some Montana tradition? A colloquialism? I'd never heard of it and I looked to Mr. Bridger.

He shook his head and gave me a quick glance. I'm sure he could see the confusion on my face, but didn't elaborate. "She's not from here, nor familiar with our ways. I think it would be better if I did it at home myself."

Reverend Abernathy nodded his understanding, yet raised a brow as he spoke. "The next service you attend, I'm sure we will be able to judge for ourselves that this task has been accomplished."

It was obvious even to me – someone completely unaware of the topic of their discussion - that the minister was not asking Mr. Bridger a question, but instead stating fact.

"Of course," Mr. Bridger responded.

Once the nuptials were completed, my husband bade quick farewell to the couple and led me from the church as quickly as we arrived, his brothers following. The sun warmed my skin and I wanted to savor the moment of my wedding as it only happened once in a woman's life. I felt rushed through this moment, however I could appreciate the need to return to the ranch with daylight holding, if the ride was as far as I imagined. Life was different in Montana, I knew, and I would need to accustom myself to the change.

“We will ride together,” Mr. Bridger told me as we approached the horses. Sam and Cole escorted us, a man on each side as well as behind me. I felt sheltered, surrounded by such large and commanding men.

My husband undid the lead of one horse, swung up into the saddle and held his hand down to me. I glanced at my new brothers-in-law, who both gave quick nods. I took the proffered hand and was pulled easily up onto my husbands lap, sitting with my legs and skirts off one side. I could feel his strong, muscular thighs beneath my bottom, his arms encircling me. My head rested beneath his chin and could feel his heart beating against my back, could smell his clean scent of leather, horse and pure male essence.