Page 6 of Their Accidental Bride (Bridgewater Brides 5)

It was about time we showed her what it meant to be ours. Awaken the arousal that lay dormant within her. We wouldn’t claim her fully until she became our wife, but we could introduce her to the pleasure that awaited her. We could, and would, make her body dance with desire.

Shane read my mind. He always could, seemed like. I guess that happened when two people knew each other as long as we had, and shared everything.

I reached for Elise at the same time Shane did, and although her smile faltered just a bit, she came with us willingly enough. She seemed slightly afraid, but also eager to see what we had in store for her.

“We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. You have our word. We will protect you, always.” My voice was gruff, husky with arousal.

4

ELISE

* * *

I should have been afraid of these men, but I wasn’t. There was something about them that made me feel safe. When I thought about Mr. Yates I felt nothing but fear and disgust. But when I thought about these men right here, there was none of that. I trusted them. I didn’t know why, but I did. For some reason, I knew they wouldn’t hurt me. Even Shane, when he’d manhandled me over his lap and spanked me soundly, hadn’t really hurt me. Oh, he’d hurt my bottom. And my pride. But he hadn’t frightened me. And when Roscoe had climbed up into the wagon next to me and held me securely for the entire journey, I felt like I’d belonged right there next to him, with his powerful body right there alongside mine and his strong arm around my shoulders protecting me.

Besides, what choice did I have? Returning to Philadelphia, to John and Mr. Yates, wasn’t an option. It was much better to take my chances with the two men beside me, and trust my instincts about them were correct.

They were certainly handsome. Both were tall, dark and muscular. Neither of them looked to be very old; just a few years older than me. In their early twenties, perhaps. One of them, Roscoe, appeared to be slightly older, and a dark close-trimmed beard shadowed his jaw. I’d already felt how hard and solid his body was, and as his fingers enclosed around my wrist, my tummy somersaulted. When Shane took my other arm, my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched in my throat. He was every bit as tall, muscular and strong as Roscoe was and his dark eyes blazed with passion. He filled me with excitement. Both of them did.

I followed where they led, through a door and into a bedroom. Shane let go of my arm and lit the lantern. A bright quilt covering the bed was the only color in the room and even that looked gloomy in the dim light. A heavy oak dressing table stood in the corner and there were no curtains framing the window. I could look directly outside and see the stars. It was a very masculine room. It would do well with a feminine touch.

Roscoe lowered himself to the bed and tugged me down to sit beside him then he gently pressed me backwards, arranging a pillow carefully under my head.

“What are you doing?” I wasn’t afraid, merely curious. I was naïve to the ways of the world.

“We’re going to show you what it means to be ours, sweetheart,” Roscoe rumbled in a deep, throaty voice.

“Yours? Both of you?” I was confused. How could they both want me?

“Yes. Ours,” Shane confirmed. “It’s the Bridgewater way,” he said, as though the simple explanation made it all clear.

“I don’t understand. How? Why?” I let my voice trail off.

“The founders of Bridgewater spent time in Mohamir,” Roscoe said. “It’s the custom there to share one woman between two men.”

If that was supposed to explain this curious practice, it didn’t. I was still confused. I knew nothing of Mohamir. My education didn’t extend to geography. Or history. I knew very little of other places, or their ways, and the idea of having two husbands was completely foreign to me. It just wasn’t done. Was it?

“Two husbands,” I mused. “Is that legal?”

“You’ll marry Roscoe,” Shane said. “He’s the eldest. But you will belong to us both.”

“The Mohamiran, and Bridgewater way, means the woman will always be cherished and protected, and if something happens to one of her men, she won’t be left alone,” Roscoe said, like the arrangement they were proposing was the most natural thing in the world.

I was silent for a moment as I tried to digest what they were saying, and accept the twist my life seemed to have taken. Two husbands. The words spun around and around in my brain, banging against the edges, until it started to seem like a good idea.

“Oh.” It made sense, I supposed. This way, I wouldn’t have to choose between them. Because how could I choose? Both of them set my heart aflutter. Both of them were handsome, strong, kind and gentle. I’d felt that for myself. Even Shane manhandling me had been done for the right reasons: protecting me. Keeping me safe. Oh how I longed to be safe! Maybe I would be, now.

I’d come to the Montana Territory prepared to marry one man I’d never met. And now, completely by accident, I’d ended up with two of them. And then it occurred to me. “Was Coleton going to share me with someone as well? He didn’t say anything in his letter.”

“I don’t think so love,” Shane answered. “He didn’t live in Bridgewater.”

“Oh.” The term of endearment made my tummy flip. Warmth spread inside me. It felt right, that he spoke in such an intimate manner, like I was his already.

“But you’ll share me? Both of you? Together? How does that work?” The physical aspect of things had me confused. Aunt Nellie had told me little of such matters. Only that I must do my wifely duty. But she certainly hadn’t told me anything about how to please two husbands. I didn’t even really know how to please one.

“We’ll show you,” Roscoe answered simply.

I swallowed, as Roscoe brushed his fingers over my cheek. His thumb was rough and leathery as he slid it over my lips. My skin was left tingling where he’d touched.

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