Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 3) (14 page)

"Why do you think you're here? Your
men
belong to me."

I frowned even more deeply. "I don’t understand."

"You rebuffed me, so I put men who belong to me in your path. You don't think Simon McPherson would be interested in the likes of you if not for a little incentive?"

The disdain in his voice had me flinching and the way his eyes roved over my body in disgust had me questioning Simon's touch, Rhys' words and Cross' wry humor.

He started laughing. "I can see that you did. I wanted your money, sweetheart, not you. If you weren't going to have me—and that crazy uncle of yours wouldn't let me get near you—then I'd get one of my men to have you instead. It was quite simple really. Simon gets a wife who will submit to his sick ways and fuck three men at once, along with a small payment for his efforts. By the look of you and the way you were stripping down just now, they have you well trained."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Had Simon only wanted me for some money and to have a woman to bed with his two closest friends? That couldn't be possible. It was obvious that Bridgewater was a successful ranch and wouldn't have married me for a little bit of money. It was possible he wanted a woman to share with Cross and Rhys, but all three of the men surely had never lacked in female attention and didn't need to marry to do that.

"Simon never even met me until right before we wed," I countered, trying to find issue with his account. "How would he have even met me in Helena?"

Mr. Peters looked down at his fingers as if bored. "He didn't have to. He used his friends to lure you in at the dance. I believe there are two men with whom you are shared?"

How did he know all of this? I remembered the feeling when I first laid eyes on Cross, then later, Rhys. Uncle Allen had used the word lightning, my heart lurching, my skin tingling, the feeling that everyone else in the room disappeared. They'd both been so confident in their attentions, so dominant and... so manly that I'd been almost distracted. The lightning had struck and my brain had lost clarity.

When I didn't respond, he continued. "Simon and I finalized the arrangement at the saloon while you were wooed at the dance. I just stopped in briefly to ensure the men were doing their job, but I had no need. It seems you were lured in quite easily."

A greasy feeling settled in my stomach as I remembered seeing him as I danced with Cross. "Simon works for you?"

The idea seemed preposterous, but here Mr. Peters was, in Simon's house and the story seemed...plausible. Doubtful, but plausible. He wanted something from me more than just talk and I had an idea what it was. I'd spurned his advances before, I doubted he'd let me do so now. I had to keep him talking.

"The horse was just a facade for the real business.
You.
" He chuckled. "Do you really think he needs another
horse
? A stud horse?
Simon's
the stud horse and you're the mare." He grinned at his crude words.

I skirted around him and toward the door. I had to get away. "Then why are you here? If you have what you want, my money, then why even come to Bridgewater?"

He was quicker than I expected. His rotund physique hid a quick step and he grabbed my arm in a talon-like grip. "To ensure you knew the truth. I don't allow anyone to say no to me. You did and your uncle protected you, so I have to punish you. Now you will live with the truth—that you're married to a man who only wanted your money, your body. The other two sick bastards? Simon McPherson thinks so little of you that he'll even share you like a common whore."

"How did you find me?" I'd thought I'd been hidden so well.

"I knew all along, of course. I just wanted to wait a few days to ensure the men had well and truly claimed you—which I can see they have." He glanced down at my bodice and my cheeks heated. "Also to let you know what your man is really like and you can live with the knowledge that I orchestrated it all."

His answer had me connecting pieces of the past week together as if it were a puzzle, one piece interlocking into another. His story actually fit, but I didn't believe it. I had to get away from the man but as I struggled, he backhanded me across the face, white spots dancing in my vision and the sharp sting of his strike made me wince.

"I'm also here to take what you refused to give before. If you already fuck three men, you should not object to one more."

I shook my head and fought him, clawing my hand down his face, my nails digging into his jowls. His hold loosened and I remembered Uncle Allen's advice regarding unwanted advances. I brought my knee up with all my might between his legs, hoping his cock would now be useless. He bent at the waist and a high pitched sound came from his throat, his hand releasing me. I didn't linger, but fled down the hall and out the front door. I ran blindly toward the stable. I had to get away, away from Mr. Peters at all costs. I could go run home to Uncle Allen, but I had no home; it had been burned and Uncle Allen had his own family. My hair came unbound and my breath came out in deep pants. A stitch pained my side but I kept going. My men. I needed my men.

SIMON

While we fucked Olivia frequently and with thorough attention, we’d spent more time out of bed than in three days after our return to Bridgewater. We learned she was an accomplished rider and could herd cattle like a ranch hand with years in the saddle. She was well educated and could speak of books in the evening with Rhys, which fascinated me. I wasna book smart, but could appreciate a lively debate. As Cross showed her how to cook eggs without burning them, they laughed. and I reveled in the way her eyes brightened. I watched quietly, biding my time, for I was always ready to rip the buttons from her dress or toss up her skirts to test her readiness for my cock. She took to our rule of no drawers and it was verra pleasant reaching beneath her dress to find her bare, slick and ready.

Olivia and I didna talk much. We mostly fucked, for this was the connection we shared. If we came upon each other in a hallway, we didna speak, but grabbed each other with frantic, hands and kissed carnally, almost roughly, until I could lift and carry her to a place where I could fuck her. She'd even help, lifting her skirts for me or unbuttoning her bodice to offer her plush breasts. It was elemental and raw and when we were joined, we didna need any words. We were frantic for each other, almost desperate in our need to be close.

It wasna a deep connection like she had with Rhys or comfortable as what she had with Cross. We were more heat and fire, not needing to talk when all we wished to do was get naked—or as naked as we needed to be —for us to fuck. On occasion, Rhys or Simon would hear our rough coupling and join us, but it was I who got her hot, who was able to stoke the lust in those pale, expressive eyes.

After a day of moving rock and digging fence posts, we were all dirty, sweaty and hungry. All I wanted to do was bathe off all the mud and then sink into my wife.

Just this morning, she was verra fetching in her pale blue dress, a color that matched her eyes perfectly. I didna comment on it as Rhys had, but I had shown her how much I liked it by pressing her up against the kitchen door, dropping to my knees before her, lifting her skirts up high enough so I could lick and taste her bare pussy, working her with my fingers until she came, dripping all over my mouth and chin. Rhys and Cross had made breakfast and watched, and all of us agreed that upon our return from the repairs, we wanted her breasts out and on offer.

I didna feel right leaving her behind and unprotected, although I kent she was safe on the ranch; the other women remained at home as well by their men without concern. It wasna that they were less vigilant, for all of the men at Bridgewater put the women and children above all else, but I knew first hand what could happen if I relaxed in my duties to protect her.

While in Mohamir, we'd been tasked to watch over a Mohamiran diplomat and his family. I'd been assigned Alea, the sixteen-year-old daughter to guard. I was many years her senior and felt a keen need to protect her. There was no connection as I had with Olivia, not only because she was too young and our cultural differences too vast, but more because her father trusted me with her life.

We were no longer under the command of the fucking bastard, Evers, who'd singlehandedly murdered Alea and her family. I would not let Olivia down as I had Alea, as we all had her family. It was this incident, this dead family's faces that haunted me still. I was older, wiser and no longer in Mohamir. This was my job in this marriage, to ensure Olivia's safety, for she was a part of me.
She was mine.

As we rode back to the ranch, one of the hands met us, his horse winded from the pace the man set.

He tilted his hat back. "Ann saw a man at your house. She said it could be Olivia's uncle, but she couldn't be sure."

I shook my head. "Nay. He wouldna come here and risk the bastard Peters following him."

We glanced at each other and spurred our horses toward the house. After a swift search, she wasna there. My gut clenched and I knew instantly something was wrong.

Rhys' eyes narrowed and his shoulders went back. His entire bearing changed. "The stables?" he asked.

'Twas possible, so I gave a curt nod and we both mounted and spurred our animals in that direction. When we rode up, dust kicking up around us, I called out to Kane, who was outside. "Is Olivia here?"

He shook his head. "Ian just came from our house. She's not there."

"Bloody hell," I muttered, glancing out and along the horizon. I tried not to clench my teeth, but I had the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Where the bloody hell was she?

"Is there a horse missing?"

Kane turned on his heel and went to look.

"Christ," Cross muttered.

I looked up at the sky. About two more hours of daylight left. We had to find her, and soon.

Kane ran out, his feet sliding on the dusty ground. "The new stud horse is missing."

"We'll find her," I vowed, my fists clenching. "We just need to ken which way she went."

CHAPTER TEN

CROSS

If anyone could track Olivia, it was Simon. Not only did he have vast skill at the task, but he had motivation as well. He struggled to communicate, offering more scowls and brash action than tenderness; he was never known for kindness, but he was different with Olivia. He didn't open up to her more than anyone else, but he watched her in a way I hadn't seen before. Reverence, tenacity and a gentleness he may not have known he had. The two of them fucked with wild abandon, their connection deeper than anything I ever had with Olivia. We talked and joked and found a common friendship between us along with being lovers, but it was different with Simon. Because of that, I worried. I knew how he blamed himself in part for the murders in Mohamir; he hadn't known about the intended crime nor took part in it in any way, but he took his role as defender and protector seriously and he'd let his young charge down. She'd died under his supervision, even if it had been during a time when he was not on duty.

It had been over ten years ago and he still had nightmares; I often saw him at the breakfast table with dark circles and misery etched on his face. With Olivia, he took his concern for her safety to an extreme, even going to the greatest length of marrying her to protect her without having known her for more than a few minutes beforehand. He'd do anything for her, and I had to only hope she had come to no harm, for this would be something from which Simon would not recover.

"I'll go back to the house to see if she left a note or some other clue as to her whereabouts." Rhys grabbed the reins of one of the horses, mounted and turned toward the house.

Simon was tense and most likely ready to beat the face in of the mystery man, for he must know as readily as I, he was the basis for Olivia's disappearance.

"I'll confirm she's not at any of the houses. If I find her, I'll fire two shots," Kane said, mounting his horse, which most likely wanted a rubdown and some hay.

That left me alone with Simon.

"Let's start at the stall."

Simon strode off with single mindedness, his steps long. He stopped about ten feet from the door, and assessed the empty stall for a moment before entering. The hay was fresh on the ground, which meant the animal hadn't been in the stall the entire day. Turning on his heel, he went to the back sliding doors and pushed it open, letting the sun stream into the dim interior.

He glanced down at the dirt directly outside, the squatted down. "See this." He pointed to tracks in the dirt. "The horse was led this way."

I came down beside him, met his dark gaze. "You can tell just by looking at the horseshoes?"

He gave a simple nod. "Peters' horse only had them on the front. We put them on all four feet of ours, just havena done them yet for the stud horse. See, these here have no horseshoes."

Standing abruptly, he followed the tracks to the back pasture. "They continue out the gate." This direction wasn't the corral or even the near pasture but the western graze land for the cattle.

"We haven't had that horse this way before, have we?" I asked.