Their Rebellious Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 10)

“Watch it,” Jonah snapped. “I taught you better than that. You speak about women with respect.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re so sensitive. You were caught. You had to marry her.”

It was true. Lord, I’d been on my knees before him, in a church. I’d been licking the seed off of his cock when the minister came in. How I must have looked! Jonah had been well and truly caught.

We weren’t the first couple to be married because of weak morals and a tattered virtue. My father had used me, used my ability to marry, for a large bank account to pay off his gambling debt. He hadn’t once considered my wishes. And they were simple. I’d always wanted to marry for love. Only love. I didn’t care about big houses or fancy clothing. I just wanted a man who wanted me. Not because I’d trapped a man into a wedding because his cock had been in my mouth.

And James? Did he feel the same? Had he acted out of chivalry instead of love? Had he exchanged his bachelorhood for a loveless marriage because of honor?

“Just like Mother,” Abel added.

I couldn’t listen to any more. I refused to be with Jonah if I was a wife in name only. Yes, we’d fucked, but as Abel had said, since we’d shared vows, he could freely have my body.

The sweet tang of lemonade soured on my tongue as I ran back toward the house where the horses were tethered. I wiped tears from my eyes as I unwrapped the lead from the post. Two days and I’d let them take a piece of me. I ached, my heart breaking at the truth. Our marriage wasn’t based on love. Yes, there was definitely passion. I’d felt things for James and Jonah I never expected. I’d done things I never imagined. I’d loved it and I thought they had too. I’d been comfortable with them. I’d felt safe. Perhaps even loved.

But I’d been wrong.

There was no love at first sight. There was no damsel in distress to be saved by a dime novel hero. A woman had to save herself, and I was going to do just that.

I’d go home, to Fargo. Jonah and James had just been a short diversion. A redirection from my plan. I would save Ginny and Georgia from Father’s mess. Lord, was I glad I’d never told them about it because once back in North Dakota, no one would know I was married. I would leave the Montana Territory and all the awful things that had befallen me here behind.

But first, I needed money for the trip. I was in the exact same predicament as the other day. That hadn’t changed. I did have more confidence. Definitely a little anger to fuel my desire to leave. I was done with Jonah and James. I didn’t have to worry about them any longer. I’d go to Travis Point, find a saloon and earn money at cards. I’d been too shy in Butte, but I’d ensure they let me play.

James and Jonah had both said I was a little wild. Perhaps that trait would be useful now. I’d get that coin one way or another.

JONAH

I wasn’t sure who angered me more, Abel or Tennessee. Every word that my son uttered was harsh. I’d expected surprise from him, not the insults he’d spewed. But I’d ended his rant quickly with the words, “You are not a child, but a man grown. Behave that way. It may have been a hasty marriage, but one I want. Yes, she trapped me, but not in the way you imagine, but with her heart. She certainly has mine.”

After those words settled between us, I saw in the distance a horse and rider, moving at a quick pace. I recognized the outline of my wife immediately. “Fuck,” I breathed, ignoring Abel and running toward the house to retrieve my own horse and chase her.

It took me ten minutes to come upon her. When I shouted for her, she slowed, then stopped, turning her animal to face me. I wasn’t sure if she was being obliging out of courtesy or because she knew she’d lost any lead she had. She’d been traveling in the direction of town, not the Carr ranch.

“Where are you going?” I called as I tugged on the reins, my animal stopping beside hers. Both animals huffed and snorted at the sprint. I hopped to the ground and grabbed her reins, ensuring she wouldn’t bolt again.

“To Travis Point,” she snapped and tried to tug the reins from my hold. Her chin was lifted, her posture so stiff she could have had a fence post for a spine. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, no, Kitten,” I countered.

Without my help, she slid off the horse and began to walk toward town. I watched her small form move through the tall grass. While she was trying to be stiff and haughty, it was lost on me as I only had eyes for the soft sway of her hips. This was the same Tennessee as the other day in Butte. Riled, filled with indignation and utterly stunning.

“We need to talk,” I called, lifting my hat and wiping the sweat from my brow.

She spun about, set her hands on her hips. Her ragged breathing made her breasts rise and fall beneath her pink dress. “Talk? It seems you did plenty of talking with Abel.”

I took a deep breath, let it out. “Watch your tone or you’ll be over my knee.”

Her eyes widened. “You think to spank me? Why?”

“Because you need it.”

“I do not need to be spanked. I am not a recalcitrant child throwing a tantrum. I am a woman who is angry!” She shouted the last, and I was surprised by her vehemence. “I am not the impetuous, wild woman you imagine.”

She was angry. I’d have to be blind not to see it. She wasn’t doing this for attention, behaving badly so I’d have to pay attention to her, to give her a spanking which would calm her, settle something inside her. This was quite different. “No?” I asked.

“You think me reckless, rebellious, too. Because of Mr. Grimsby?”

She didn’t give me an opportunity to reply.