Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

I gave one curt nod. “She does, but she didn’t learn it from us. Laurel, I think.”

“You’ll treat her right?” he asked, looking between the two of us.

Gabe stiffened, and I did everything in my power not to curl my hands into fists.

“There’s a fine line, Carr, between protecting your sister and questioning our honor.”

“Perhaps I did not speak clearly enough. We won’t just watch out for her. We will marry her.” Gabe eyed James carefully.

“Why did you come here? To state your interest?”

“We’ve wanted her for years.” I held up my hand before he overexerted himself for nothing. “Don’t get riled. We’ve done nothing untoward. Ever. We’ve waited until she’s old enough to even speak of our interest. And it’s not just interest, Carr. We’re talking commitment. Marriage. We’re tired of waiting.”

“It’s been less than a week since she came back,” James countered.

“We’ve waited long enough and will not sit idly by while some other man claims her,” I told him.

Soft footfalls indicated she was coming down the stairs.

“We’ll do this our way, Carr,” I murmured, not wanting Abigail to know we’d spoken about her. “With all due respect, she’s a grown woman and needs to make her own decisions without her older brother.”

James turned his head toward the stairs then back toward us. His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Done.”

While he wasn’t too keen on two men marrying his sister, he had to relent. He’d known us for years, and we’d shared mutual respect. That shouldn’t change now because of this. He had to use our history to let go of his parental role over his sister. What was best for her was us, and he’d come to this conclusion quickly enough.

He began to cough and slid down onto his back on the couch once again.

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed,” Abigail scolded from the hallway. “I’ve got all the windows and doors open, but you’ll be getting everyone sick with—”

She came into the room and stopped abruptly at the sight of us. Her eyes grew large and her mouth fell open. She turned to look at her brother, but it was second nature to turn the left side of her face away from people, including the two of us. She might hide now, but not much longer.

“Mr. Landry,” she murmured, saying the name only once, but we knew it was for both of us instead of saying it twice. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Today she wore a simple navy skirt, the hem of which brushed the floor. Her white blouse was crisp and buttoned to just beneath her chin. It was the epitome of modest, and yet I was having the most immodest thoughts. What would she look like if her hair was down? If the top few buttons were undone to see a hint of her breasts? If she lifted the bottom of her skirt to show the turn of her ankle then more?

“I know you wanted to go to Butte, Abigail,” James said, breaking me from my thoughts. From the way he lay, Abigail was taller, and he looked up at her. “I’m too sick to take you, but the Landrys have volunteered in my stead.”

She looked to both of us, clearly petrified. She wasn’t scared of us; we knew that. Skittish, certainly, for we were bold men, and she had been raised quite sheltered. Her mind was working hard, trying to figure out what to say. Having us escort her to Butte was probably the last thing she imagined.

“Thank you for volunteering, but it is not necessary,” she said, finally, holding her hands in front of her waist, wringing them.

“We insist,” Gabe replied. “I’m sure your brother would like to climb back into bed and rest. If you pack your bag… again, we will be on our way.”

CHAPTER THREE

Abigail

“Are you all right, Abigail?” Gabe asked as we rode across the open prairie. The sun was hot, and I was thankful for my straw hat.

I was exhausted and nervous and completely frazzled. I hadn’t been able to sleep because of worry for Tennessee, what I was going to take to Mr. Grimsby. When I did sleep, I dreamed of guns and death. And then, always, the decadent thoughts of the Landrys. Now, they rode beside me. How could I not be nervous, spending the last hour riding beside Gabe and Tucker, the men I wanted with all my heart? Their clean scent was undeniable and, even with their large size, both sat a horse as if born in a saddle. I couldn’t help stare at their strong thighs pressed taut against their pants, their corded forearms peeking out from their rolled up sleeves. The size of their hands. It was a torture of my own making.

I wanted to tell them the truth, not just about the imaginary Aaron, but my love for them. The words perched on the tip of my tongue. The men were quiet and prepared to listen to anything I had to say, but I couldn’t do it. As soon as they found out I’d lied, they’d hate me. And I certainly couldn’t tell them the real reason I’d lied. The idea of either of them having Mr. Grimsby’s gun aimed at them made my blood run cold.

And if they knew I had my mother’s diamond brooch tucked away in my bag to give to Mr. Grimsby, they’d be livid. It was the one thing of value James wouldn’t miss right away, was small enough to hide, and held high value. I was stealing from James, who was to give it to his bride on their wedding day, and using it to barter with a very bad, very dangerous man for Tennessee’s safety.

I glanced briefly at Gabe, so handsome with his dark hair and beard, equally dark and piercing eyes. I bit my lip, my mind—my heart—in anguish. I gave him a curt nod when h

e glanced at me, then looked toward the snowcapped mountains in the distance.