Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

My original intention was to go to Butte on my own, overnight, give Mr. Grimsby the brooch and ensure Tennessee’s release then return home. I would tell James—and the entire town—I broke things off with my suitor. James would probably be happy I ended a romance with someone who lived so far away. Then I’d be free of Mr. Grimsby and the lie once and for all. There would be some pity from the townspeople, but I didn’t care. As long as Tennessee was safe and Mr. Grimsby wouldn’t send his henchmen after James, everything else was trivial. When James discovered the heirloom brooch missing… well, I’d worry about that another day.

But my plan wasn’t to be. James had forbidden me to travel on my own. Concern for my safety out in the wilds all alone his reason. Although we’d argued while he was sick, he still won.

And so I’d unpacked my bag while fretting over a new way to return to Butte with the brooch in time to save Tennessee. An hour later, when James called me down to the parlor, I’d had no new plan and been stunned to see both Landrys. When they volunteered to accompany me to Butte, there was no way out. While James was stubborn and hardheaded, the Landrys were twice as bad. They would not relent and, if I declined, I would not have another way to get to the city. But, now, I struggled with a way to extricate myself from them long enough to meet Mr. Grimsby.

And so I bit my lip once again and wrung my hands, even as I held the reins. What was I going to do? I darted a glance at Gabe and Tucker, riding easily, without a care in the world. The sun glinted off their hair beneath their hats: Tucker’s fair locks and Gabe’s dark curls. They were watching me intently, as they had the entire journey, and I squirmed yet again.

I wanted the Landrys. So, so much. It would be over soon, their kindness toward me. ’They’d hate me, resent me. Think me a little girl for inventing something so silly as a nonexistent beau. I’d wasted their time in escorting me. I wouldn’t blame them for their disappointment and frustration. They’d easily move on and find a woman who was just right for them, one who didn’t make up tales.

Swallowing down a lump in my throat, I glanced away and blinked back tears. I would not cry. I couldn’t. The blame was squarely, and very heavily, on my shoulders. I’d done this to myself. No, Tennessee had started it all, but it mattered no longer.

When the men steered their horses to the west, I frowned. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Butte is to the south.”

“Bridgewater,” Tucker replied.

“Bridgewater?” I repeated. “Why?”

We weren’t going to Butte?

“It’s time we had a talk, don’t you think?” Gabe eyed me.

I gulped. What did they know? “Gabe—”

He shook his head. “Not here, precious. When we get to our house, we’ll talk.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to get all the way to Bridgewater for them to reject me. Bridgewater! With Laurel and Olivia, all the others. I had to tell them the truth, at least about making up a beau. I didn’t have to tell the reason why.

“I lied.” The words popped out, and I bit my lip, waiting.

The men slowed their horses and glanced my way. Since they flanked me, I couldn’t look them both in the eye at the same time, but I could feel the intensity of their eyes on me.

“Lied?” Tucker repeated, his brow furrowed.

I looked down at my hands on the reins. My knuckles had turned white as I was gripping them so hard. “Yes. There is no man in Butte.”

“You have no suitor?” Gabe asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

They continued on toward Bridgewater. I didn’t understand why they didn’t turn around and take me home, nor ask me question after question about my ruse. I sat there confused by their quiet.

Gabe only said, “We’ll talk at the house.” Nothing more.

And so the remainder of the ride to Bridgewater seemed interminable. I’d dreamed of them taking me home with them, but not like this. Not with so much between us, and Mr. Grimsby.

I’d never been to the big ranch before. When we rode up to a modest-sized house perched high on a bluff, I could see other buildings in the distance. I had to wonder which houses were Laurel’s and Olivia’s.

They dismounted then helped me down from my horse.

“I am weary from the journey,” I told them, afraid to meet their eyes. “I would like to rest before you take me back to my brother’s.”

It was a thinly veiled excuse to keep from talking, for the ride hadn’t been two hours.

Fortunately, Gabe and Tucker were gentlemen enough not to argue and, with Gabe’s hand still on my elbow, they led me into their house. It was one story, but quite large. The clapboards were painted a crisp white and on the front porch there were two rocking chairs. With the view of the open ranchland and the mountains in the distance, it was a beautiful spot.

But I couldn’t appreciate it. Every step was miserable, having them right beside me and yet impossibly far away. I could even smell them, and their scent was dark and spicy and perfect. They escorted me down a hallway to a bedroom. It was simply furnished, but the bed, the largest I’d ever seen, filled most of the space. A man’s shirt hung on a peg on the wall, a pair of well-worn boots were tucked beneath the foot of the bed, and I saw shaving supplies atop a dresser.

In the doorway, I took a deep breath and girded myself, turning to face them and thank them for their attentiveness. When Tucker moved around me and went into the room, I discovered they had other ideas.