Their Conquered Bride Read online

  The daughter of a tainted woman, inheritor of both her wicked tongue and wanton blood. Neither made me acceptable company in our small, God-fearing community. If our father hadn’t been the minister, I’m sure I would have been stoned to death by age fourteen.

  Still, the two men near the wagon looked at me and I saw desire darken their eyes. They looked at me now the way the two men I’d seen the night before looked at the naked beauty between them, with want. Lust. Need. The memories of what I’d witnessed were what made today’s stage journey tolerable. I couldn’t think of much else. What maiden could? Instead of being horrified, as I should, I was envious. I tried to clear the image from my mind, but it was too late. All I could think about was being shared by them, just as naked, wanton and wild as the woman I’d seen.

  My heart leapt into my throat as they continued to eye me and I fought for breath. The man tossed the sack into the back of a wagon with an ease that showcased his strength and the breadth of his shoulders. The other continued to coil the length of rope, watching me, slow and patient as a cat stalking a mouse. Every long inch of them screamed rugged cowboy and I made fists of my hands so I would not reach out to touch what did not now, and never would, belong to me.

  I lowered my eyes and turned my attention to the tattered tips of my shoes, ashamed. I was ogling men who were not my intended husband. My wicked blood was going to ruin this chance for us if I didn’t get myself back under control. What would Mr. Jenkins say if he knew the naughty thoughts filling my head to overflowing? And still…

  Hope flared in my chest. If this was the caliber of man to be had in the Montana Territory, I couldn’t wait to meet my new husband. Perhaps he, too, would be ruggedly handsome. Strong. Perhaps he would make my heart skip a beat and my nipples peak beneath my dress like these two did.

  Perhaps one of these men was Mr. Jenkins himself?

  Surely not. It couldn’t be possible, could it? At our last stop, I’d sent a message ahead to Mr. Jenkins telling him we would arrive in three days’ time. I felt a small twinge of guilt for lying to my betrothed, as it had been only two since I sent the message. Mr. Jenkins was not expecting us today, and I was eager to hurry along, to have Judith and Rebekah safely settled in our hotel room, hidden from sight, until after the wedding was over. With only a few stagecoach runs to Hayes, worry took root in my chest. What if he were as anxious as I? What if he came a day early to look for me?

  Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my tense shoulders. No. Fate would not be so cruel to me, not after she had taken me this far. I could believe nothing else.

  That meant that none of the handsome men before us were Mr. Jenkins. As confirmation of that, none of the men, while they enjoyed looking at the three of us, stepped forward to claim me. I had been sure to send Mr. Jenkins a recent photograph, so he had my likeness, but none of these men had two small sons in tow either. Disappointment was bitter on my tongue as I pasted a smile onto my lips and lifted my chin high. Mr. Jenkins would be wonderful. He simply must be. I was sure of it.

  The driver dropped our bags at our feet with the disinterest of a man who had ten more miles to ride before bed. I afforded him a small smile of thanks, then picked up the bag that held my meager belongings. The summer day was warm, but a slight breeze reminded me that fall was on the way. I was thankful for my thin coat, but knew we would need my husband to purchase heavier winter things for us before the ice and snow took hold.

  “Let’s find our hotel,” I said to my sisters, offering them a small smile.

  The cruelty of our uncle may have pushed me to agree to marry a man and be mother to his children through a newspaper advertisement as a means of escape, but I wanted to at least freshen myself and have a good night’s sleep before I faced my future. Tomorrow, I would be strong again. Tomorrow, I would meet my new family for the first time and allow myself to fall in love with my new sons. Tonight, I would close my eyes, put my feet up and enjoy my last day of freedom.

  I urged my sisters to walk ahead of me onto the boardwalk, passing them as we carried our bags to the hotel. The two men I’d noticed earlier turned their heads and continued to look at me as I went by, tipping their hats. I told myself not to look. I swear I did. But it was like they possessed a secret power over my body and my eyes refused to listen to my head. I glanced at the closest man and a shiver raced down my spine at the intense interest I saw there. His friend, a few steps farther, drew my attention directly thereafter. His gaze was dark and thoughtful, but he looked at me as if he knew me, as if he knew my secrets and could see straight into my soul.

  I held my breath as I passed in a vain attempt to avoid the spicy scent of their bodies. They smelled so much better than I’d expected. Sweat and dust and the odor of horses clung to the air, yet these men smelled of wild pine trees and earth.

  “Miss,” the second man said, his voice rough and dark and deep.

  Up close, I could see that the first had green eyes; the other’s were dark as coffee. I should have been wary or even fearful of their unswerving attention. Instead, I felt… hot all over. Lightheaded, as if I would faint. My heart was practically beating out of my chest and my nipples tightened beneath my corset. I pulled my thin wool coat closed around me, thankful it would hide that embarrassing fact, and forced my feet to carry me forward.

  As I turned away from them and headed toward the hotel at the end of the block, I could feel them watching me, their gazes like fire tracing a mark on my back. Once in the hotel room, my sisters took over the bed to rest. I stripped out of my dusty clothes. Standing before the mirror, I saw my scrubbed complexion. No matter how much soap I used, how much I scrubbed, I would always feel dirty. Years and years of living with my uncle had reinforced that notion.

  Tears of exhaustion filled my eyes as I washed my body. My nipples were hard and when I cleaned myself between my thighs I felt a hot ache there. I knew the throbbing fullness wasn’t caused by thinking of the man I was to marry, but of two rough and handsome cowboys, and a tear slid down my cheek.

  Chapter Four

  Logan

  “We’ve been all over the world and we find her in the Montana Territory,” I muttered, shaking my head. The black-haired beauty had met my gaze, met my fire with her own. I knew what desire looked like on a woman, and suddenly all I could think about was seeing her hot and naked under me, her body glistening with sweat and my name falling from her lips as I made her beg for release. “Damn it.”

  I wasn’t cursing the woman; I was cursing the rock-hard cock taking up too much damn room in the front of my pants. Less than a minute and a complete stranger made my cock so hard and full it ached.

  I dropped a bucket of nails onto the back of the wagon with a loud rattle. A few spilled out and I grabbed them, tossed them back into the tin. There was no denying it; the dark-haired beauty that had alighted from the stage was the woman for me. And I’d clearly heard one of the lovelies say the name Jenkins. These women were about to fall into a terrible trap. After what that little shit, Samuel Jenkins, and his sons had said the night before, it was our duty to protect the women. I just didn’t know which woman was his bride. Nor did I care. Not one of them was going to be touched by Jenkins or his filthy sons, not while I lived.

  “Which one do you think is the future Mrs. Jenkins?” I asked Ford, who was standing still as a statue watching the women as they walked toward the hotel. He turned to glance at me as he reached down to the front of his pants and adjusted his own problem. I laughed. “Please tell me that hard cock is for the dark-haired beauty.”

  “I don’t know which one is for Jenkins, but I know the one that’s for us.”

  “Please say the dark-haired one, because I have no doubt that she’s ours,” I grumbled. This was a serious moment and I had no interest in jests.

  “Hell, yes, the dark-haired one. Kane warned me that when we saw her, it would be like this, but bloody hell.” He rubbed his chest. “She’s ours. No question about it.” He shifted his cock again. “If you wa
nt to marry her and fuck her senseless, then yes. I agree.”

  “Good. Now that I’ve seen her, now that I’ve looked into her eyes, I want her. She’s walking away and it’s actually painful. I want her in our bed by nightfall.” Ford’s green eyes slanted with determination as he lifted his gaze to follow the women as they entered the front door of the hotel. “We have to marry her today. That’s the only way we can make sure Jenkins doesn’t touch her. Hell, I don’t want him touching any of them.”

  “Agreed.”

  The other men in our group circled around, none willing to allow Mr. Jenkins and his sons to defile such beauty as we saw alight from the stage. “Which one is Jenkins’ bride?” Evan spoke up, but our entire group was intense and focused. We had a mission here, and couldn’t leave town until we all made sure those women would be safe.

  I frowned. The Jenkins men hadn’t described the woman last night, only what they were going to do to her. We hadn’t even been able to get a glimpse of the photograph. The idea of those bastards touching any of those women made me want to cut off their cocks and stuff them down their throats so they choked, but it was the eldest woman Ford and I had just agreed to claim.

  “Doesn’t matter. The dark one is ours,” Ford said and I added my agreement. Somehow, I preferred the one who didn’t have milk-white skin. The other two were pale and fair-haired, but the eldest—she was clearly a few years older—had hair as dark as midnight and her skin had been kissed golden by the sun. Her lips were full and soft and her eyes held definite interest as she looked at us. When she’d glanced at me, then at Ford, and stilled, my cock had turned rock hard. I saw the truth in her eyes. She’d felt it, too, an instant connection. Want. Right then and there, her fate had intertwined with ours.

  The other men nodded at Ford, understanding our interest. “How you know she’s yours, like that.” Garrett snapped his fingers. “It’s beyond my understanding.”

  “You just haven’t seen your woman yet,” Ford told him.

  “And you can’t have ours.” I felt the need to emphasize our claim. I, too, would have asked the same question if it hadn’t felt as if I’d been kicked by a mule when her dark eyes met mine. I wanted her hot and wet beneath me. I wanted to taste her skin and her pussy. I wanted to explore every inch of her body and discover all her secrets.

  “The younger two—the blondes—are surely sisters,” Evan offered.

  The other men nodded. That the younger girls were related was impossible to miss, for they looked similar enough to be twins.

  “It’s unusual that three women just happen to come to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Today.” Evan stroked his beard. “It’s not often we see three lovely ladies out here at all. Hell, it’s been months.”

  “Since Fargo, at least,” Thompson added, grumbling. “And those green eyes. Damn. They were full of fire and ice.” He reached down to adjust his own cock and Garrett laughed.

  “Brown dress? Golden hair?” Garrett asked.

  Thompson looked at Garrett and a nod of understanding passed between them. I lifted my fingers and snapped them in front of Garrett’s face. “Just like that,” I said.

  We were not used to going hundreds of miles without the sight of a lovely lady or two. Back home in England, a simple stroll down the street would provide dozens of lovely, high-bred women. Problem was, none of them would accept the lifestyle we’d all embraced during our time in Mohamir. Two men sharing a wet, willing woman between them was, to us, the ultimate pleasure. The uptight mothers and fathers of London would not be able to accept our ways.

  In addition to our heathen sexual practices, we were nothing but retired soldiers, not dukes or earls. Except for my friend Ford, we were all simple working men, not titled nobles. We had no hope of living life our way back home, so we came out here, to the Wild West, to the Montana Territory where we could live the way we wanted at Bridgewater.

  “Perhaps there’s more than one man who sent for a mail-order bride?” Evan’s question pulled me from my thoughts as he glanced at Daniel. Those two had agreed to share a bride, just as Ford and I had. “Daniel, did you get a look at the one with the blue eyes?”

  I hadn’t noticed the eye color of the two blond women for I’d only been looking at her.

  Daniel nodded with a lust-filled grin. “Absolutely.”

  “Are we agreed then?” Evan asked for confirmation of his choice, just as I’d asked Ford. He wanted the blue-eyed woman to be their bride.

  “Agreed.” Daniel nodded his head in the direction of the hotel, then laughed. “Hell, you’d think we just negotiated for a new horse, but shit, I want her. I want her and no one is going to get in my way.”

  Evan slapped him on the shoulder, for this was how it seemed with all of us. We just… knew.

  “How are we going to accomplish this rescue? We don’t know anyone in this damn town. For all we know, the sheriff or local judge might be Jenkins’ cousin.”

  “I don’t care which one is Jenkins’ intended bride,” Ford said. He placed the coiled rope on top of the sacks of flour. “That marriage is not going to happen.”

  “There’s only one hotel, so we know where they’ve gone,” I said, looking in that direction.

  “We’ll take shifts watching the hotel so they don’t suspect,” Evan offered, stroking his beard. No doubt he and Daniel were eager to get another glimpse of the blue-eyed lady.

  “We’ll watch the Jenkins men,” Garrett offered and his friend Thompson nodded agreement. “They were drunk, stumbling their way to the stables last night. We’ll head over there and keep them away from the hotel.” They put on their hats and left the group. The others surrounded the wagon and I nodded to each of our brothers-in-arms. They knew the stakes. Three women meant three brides. Three beautiful women to take to Bridgewater.

  I nodded my thanks. “Why don’t you boys take the wagon and meet us at Bridgewater Ranch? We’ll be a couple of days behind you.”

  “Done.” I didn’t know which of the men had spoken, nor did it matter. Six men were headed to Bridgewater, six staying in town to rescue three lovely women. The Jenkins boys were drunken idiots. They were no match for us.

  Ford stepped up onto the boardwalk as the wagon pulled away. I expected him to head for the hotel, but he turned in the opposite direction. I bit my tongue and balled my hands into fists. My inclination would be to tear her hotel room door down, swoop our future bride over my shoulder, and ride out of town. But that’s why Ford had been our spy and scout while I always hungered for the rage of taking down my enemies on the front lines. I tended to be a charging bull, but I wasn’t stupid. Ford would have a plan. The bastard always had a plan.

  I fell in step beside him. “Where are we going?”

  Ford’s grin was full of the devil and I grinned back. “To find the town preacher.”

  “What if she won’t agree?”

  “She will.” Ford slapped me on the shoulder, just as Evan had Daniel. “Trust me.”

  I shook my head. “If she’s got a sense of honor, she’ll insist on meeting Jenkins first. Sounded like she gave the man her word.”

  “I know. And she’s going to keep it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  We’d reached the front doors of the small town chapel and Ford grinned as he pushed open the door. “Just play along. She’ll be ours by nightfall.”

  Hell if I was going to argue with that. I followed him inside and squinted for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the tiny chapel. A small, nervous man walked forward between a dozen rows of hard wooden pews. He was close to sixty, bald, wearing dark robes, spectacles and a serious expression.

  “Welcome to our chapel, gentleman. What can I do for you?”

  Ford took off his hat, bowed his head and took on a very contrite look. When he opened his mouth, I was shocked to hear a nearly perfect American accent. “Well, preacher, I was hoping you could marry me and my miss. We got a little carried away last ni
ght and I need to make an honest woman out of her.”

  The preacher’s cheeks flushed a dark pink at Ford’s plain speaking, but he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “Well, has the lady agreed?”

  “Of course. I never woulda touched her, sir. I swear. I didn’t mean to, but I just got lost for a minute. She smelled so nice and she was so soft, and her kisses made me kind dizzy, and… well…” Ford shuffled his feet and hunched his shoulders in shame. I hid a gut shot of laughter behind a coughing fit as he continued. “Well, I love her, see. Now I need to make it right.” Ford’s smile was pure happiness and I wondered in awe at his acting skills. This was the reason he’d been the spy. Me? I preferred to shoot first and ask questions after.

  “Very well. The Lord would approve of your dedication to your future wife.” The pastor frowned up at Ford, just to make sure my friend understood that he was a sinner. “But he would have preferred you had waited until the wedding night.”

  Ford spun his hat in his hands and looked at the preacher’s feet. “I know. I’m sorry, but I want to make it right. I want to marry her right away. Today, right away, if it pleases the Lord. My Lizzie, she’s a good girl, sir. I want her to be right with the Lord.”

  The preacher sighed and crossed his arms. “All right. Bring your bride to me, Mister… what’s your name?”

  “Jenkins, sir. Ford Jenkins.”

  I blinked, slowly, so I wouldn’t give away Ford’s lie.

  The name got the preacher’s attention and he raised his eyebrow. “You related to Samuel and his boys?”

  Ford looked dumbfounded, his eyes wide and innocent. “No, sir. I don’t know no Samuel. My daddy’s name was George. I’m from St. Louis. This here,” Ford pointed at me with his hat, “he’s my cousin, Logan Green. He sailed over from England to start a ranch with me. He’s gonna be my witness, sir.”