Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

"You're claiming her then?" Simon asked, referring to Laurel.

I nodded. "Wouldn't you?"

"Hell, yes."

"Andrew told you the details?"

All three men nodded. "A woman doesn't run off like that unless she's flighty or fearing for her life," Cross commented.

"She's not flighty," I answered.

"Then someone wants her, besides you," Simon finished.

"They can try." I patted Simon on the shoulder as I walked toward the dining room. "They can try."

CHAPTER SIX

LAUREL

I spent an uncomfortable dinner with a room full of men wearing just a shirt. It had been silly to think Ann's clothes would fit. I'd certainly try to alter them, but it was of no help at the moment. Somewhere along this journey I'd lost all control of my body. My body was literally dripping wetness! This had never happened before I met Mason and Brody. Surely this wasn't normal.

Conversation weaved around me as I had nothing to add, nor did I wish to focus any kind of attention on myself. I felt exposed enough with my legs bare. The group was congenial and seemed to be a family in their own right. Lighthearted humor and jovial stories went around as fast as the basket of bread or the pitcher of water. Only Andrew and Robert spoke like Americans, the rest with accents. McPherson and MacDonald had much stronger burrs. When Brody leaned in and told me that McPherson and Simon were brothers, the resemblance was obvious. I wasn't sure why one went by their family name and the other the surname, but I wasn't going to ask.

The stew was delicious, but I did not have much of an appetite. I'd saved myself from Mr. Palmer and my father's plans, but I'd fallen into an environment where it wasn't just one man, or even two, that I had to extricate myself from now. These men had a bond that, from what Mason told me, was forged in the military. I couldn't stay here on Bridgewater and lie to all of them. Mason and Brody seemed to find enjoyment in my body, but it could not be long term. I was just a loose woman, complying readily with their wishes. I'd been in bed with them naked! Even worse perhaps, I sat in just a men's shirt at a dinner table full of men. Strangers!

I wanted to get up, run out of the house, but I had no real clothes. No shoes. Not even a coat. I would

get ten feet in the snow and have to return. That was an impossible scenario. Tears clogged my throat, making it impossible to swallow the bite of stew. I sipped from my glass and looked across the table at Ann, who sat there smiling as she talked with Robert. She seemed happy with her life with her two husbands; she didn't find the arrangement odd at all. Was I the odd one here then?

Was this what a wife was supposed to do? Everyone seemed accustomed to these different values, these Mohamiran ways they'd taken as theirs. Everyone but me. Society dictated certain social mores and life at Bridgewater contradicted them all. I didn't fit in here. I didn't belong here.

I didn't belong anywhere. I was too old for my school, knowing now I remained solely because my father paid generously. I'd recently discovered he'd even paid extra to ensure I did not have any suitors, knowing at some point he would need me to return to Simms. Finally, he did and within the week of arriving I'd learned I didn't belong there either.

I was truly lost with nowhere to run.

I blinked at the tears that formed in my eyes, tried to keep them from spilling over. It was no use. They slipped down my cheeks, fell onto the fabric of Mason's shirt I wore. Quietly, I placed my fork down, looked down at the plate, although the food blurred.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Brody asked. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, his breath warm, his voice soft, concerned.

I shook my head, but the tears continued. Glancing up into his pale eyes, I told Brody, "I...I can't do this. I don't belong here."

The table got quiet. Tears fell faster when I knew I'd drawn the attention I didn't want. I pushed my chair back and stood. All of the men around the table stood as well, but only Mason and Brody followed me out of the room. Seeing the baby still asleep, this wasn't where I could speak freely either.

I wiped my eyes with my fingers as I whispered, "Can we leave? Please?"

Both men stood before me formidable and tall. So handsome, especially when they looked at me with a mixture of male dominance and concern. "Of course," Mason replied. They moved quickly. Brody returned to the dining room, Mason to get on his coat. Moments later, Brody came back and donned his own coat, taking it from the peg by the door. Mason picked up the blanket and wrapped it around me. Brody placed the blouse and skirt Ann gave me over his arm, which looked so incongruous to his large, very male frame.

They worked quickly and efficiently as a team and in only a minute, Mason had me in his arms and out the door. As the men's boots crunched through the deep snow, I thought about what they'd said about Robert, Andrew and Ann. Ann's needs came first. They took care of her before anything else. They'd stopped in the middle of a conversation to help ease the engorgement of her breasts. Nothing, and no one else, mattered. It was a very appealing concept to me. No one, ever, saw to my needs first. No one had ever cared for me. The love I saw in the trio was heart warming and heart rending, for I knew now what I'd been missing.

BRODY

Laurel had panicked. She'd been aroused, there was no question about that but perhaps we pushed her too far, too fast. The Mohamiran customs definitely required some adjustment of thought. Perhaps something else was on her mind that had upset her. Until we stripped her bare, physically and mentally, so we knew all of her, we could not help her. Instead of putting her down in the doorway to remove his coat and boots, Mason carried her directly up the stairs and into his bedroom, placing her on the bed. Gently. Carefully.

I followed directly, both of us shrugging out of our outerwear to sit on either side of her. We worked the blanket from around her to reveal her luscious body, Mason's shirt riding high on her thighs.

She tugged at the material but we stilled her hands. Her green eyes flared with a mixture of anger and trepidation.

"What has you so upset?" I asked, running my hand up and down her silky thigh.