Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Menage Book 8) Read online

  Their Brazen Bride

  Bridgewater Ménage Series – Book 8

  By Vanessa Vale

  © 2016 Vanessa Vale, Bridger Media

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

  electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage

  and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Cover Design: RomCon - www.romcon.com

  Cover Photos: Fotolia, deberarr; Hot Damn Stock

  When Abigail Carr returns to Bridgewater after long years away at Finishing School, Gabe and Tucker Landry will not be dissuaded from the only woman who’s held their attentions—and affections—for years. They’re done waiting. When Abigail claims she must return to Butte, and to her fiancé, Gabe and Tucker refuse to give up so easily. Since she doesn’t have a wedding band on her finger, nor love in her heart, they consider Abigail free for the taking. And seduce her they do…right home to Bridgewater, where they not only marry her, but claim her body in the most sensual experience of Abigail’s life.

  But Abigail knows that a future as a wife and mother is not possible, not for her. She only came home to save a friend’s life, and she dare not stay. If she doesn’t return to Butte in the next three days, her best friend will die. And no matter how much Abigail wishes she could stay, and be the wife Gabe and Tucker deserve, she must save her friend. The cruel criminal who threatens her friend will not hesitate to kill anyone important to Abigail, including her new husbands.

  Abigail will make a hard choice, and save them all…no matter the cost to herself or her heart.

  PROLOGUE

  Abigail

  “I will kill her now”—Paul Grimsby cocked the gun, the sound of it making me jump—“or you can save her. You decide.”

  He had the look of a man not to be trifled with. Tall and lean, he seemed as if he’d been stretched on a Medieval rack. His curly hair was tamed with pomade, and the cut of his suit was the latest fashion. But he was anything but a gentleman. Especially since he held a gun to my friend’s head.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the man, one of Mr. Grimsby's oversized and brutish lackeys, who blocked the room’s only exit.

  “What… what is it you want from me, exactly?” My voice was shrill with nerves. Sweat trickled down between my breasts. I wrung my hands as my knees practically knocked. I hadn’t been invited to the Grimsby house, I’d been accompanied by the man at the door and another who had ventured off somewhere in the big house. The journey across Butte from my finishing school was only ten blocks or so, but it had felt interminable. I’d spent the time considering ways to escape them; I was walking down a busy street. Screaming I was being kidnapped was at the top of the list of possibilities. But the two henchmen who’d flanked me had warned if I so much as waved to someone on the street, my school friend Tennessee Bennett would be killed.

  I remember the first time I met her, commented on her unusual name. She’d said her parents named her and her two sisters after states. Georgia and Virginia were fine names, but she’d been burdened with Tennessee, a definite mouthful.

  “Money, of course,” he replied evenly. A clock on the mantel over the fireplace chimed the hour. The room was so civilized, but the conversation was anything but.

  It seemed Mr. Grimsby had every intention to do so. Kill Tennessee, that was. Shockingly, he’d already killed her father who’d come in town for the school’s graduation and to accompany her back to North Dakota. Mr. Grimsby had no remorse, no conscience. I glanced at Tennessee, sitting stiffly in a high-backed chair, her usually bright complexion now matched a bed sheet. She looked at me with pleading eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d gotten herself into this predicament, and had pulled me in unwittingly as well. Eager for a suitor, she’d been bold with her attentions for Mr. Grimsby, one of the more successful and wealthy businessmen in town. Not only was he rich, but attractive—she thought him so, where I’d found him quite unappealing—and, most importantly, a bachelor.

  Eager for money over love, she’d wanted to land a rich husband but had lied to Mr. Grimsby about the wealth and station of her family from the very beginning. She wasn’t a railroad heiress as she’d said, simply a second daughter of a banker from Fargo. The guise was innocent enough and done by many a woman throughout time to improve her lot in life, but Mr. Grimsby seemed to want Tennessee’s nonexistent inheritance more than the woman herself. He wasn’t as rich as he seemed, either. If he weren’t a madman, they’d make a perfect match. But when the truth came out about Tennessee’s perfidy, he’d become enraged; her father’s dead body left in the street and the black eye on her face were indication of this.

  And the gun pointed at her head.

  “I don’t have money,” I replied, wetting my lips.

  “You don’t have looks, but you’ve got money.”

  Mr. Grimsby’s eyes narrowed on my cheek with something akin to revulsion, and he shook with rage. I was used to being taunted about my scar, but I was glad he had not found any kind of attraction to me as he had Tennessee. She was beautiful, poised, and gentle hearted. “I know your background, your brother. You might not have cash on hand, but he has one of the largest ranches in this corner of the territory.”

  I was surprised he wasn’t forcing me to marry him instead. If he wanted money badly enough, he would overlook the scar. But no. He was too vain for the likes of me and wanted a beautiful bride. Tennessee. Not me. For once, I was happy to have been disfigured.

  “Land and cattle. That’s all he has,” I replied. “I can’t bring you a cow.”

  I bit my lip, knowing it wasn’t the right thing to say, for he while he dropped the gun from Tennessee’s head, he closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm. I cried out at his cruel hold. Flinched.

  “I don’t want a fucking cow,” he hissed, spittle flying. “I want money or something to sell for money.”

  “All right,” I replied. What else could I say? He’d killed Tennessee’s father to punish her for her lies. What was keeping him from lifting the gun to my head and pulling the trigger? “I’ll… bring you something to sell.”

  He released his hold, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand with the gun.

  “You have a week.” He turned and pointed at Tennessee, who was now crying in earnest. “One week and then I kill her.”

  I nodded numbly, my heart beating frantically. I was going home anyway now with graduation behind us. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to return, but I’d worry about that later.

  “If you don’t come back, my men will find you.” He waved the gun in front of my face, and my eyes followed the lethal weapon.

  I retreated a step. He didn’t do anything, so I took another tentative one, then another, afraid to turn my back on him. Tennessee was still crying.

  “Don’t leave me here!” she cried, holding her hand out to me to take.

  It hurt to leave her behind, but if I was going to save her, I had to go. I heard the door open, and it was only then when I turned. The henchman held the door for me and escorted me out into the street, my friend’s sobs following. I had to help my friend. I had to return home and find something I could bring back to appease Mr. Grimsby. Something James wouldn’t miss. Otherwise, she would die. And if I didn’t do it in the week, he’d send someone after my brother. I’d saved him as a little girl. I couldn’t let him die now.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Abigail

  I should have been watching the bride and groom as they stood before the minister, reciting their vows. Theresa
was lovely in her white dress, her face radiant with a happiness which seemed to come from within. She loved Emmett, I had no doubt. The feelings were reciprocated if the hitch in the big rancher’s voice as he said “I do” was any indication.

  I should have watched as they shared their first kiss as a married couple, but my eyes were on the handsome duo, Gabe and Tucker Landry. The brothers sat together across the center aisle and two rows ahead of me with a few of the others from Bridgewater. I could see nothing lower than their broad shoulders, but their hair was neatly combed, shirts crisp and freshly washed.

  This opportunity to look at them for such a long duration wasn’t afforded to me very often and I sighed, taking in their chiseled profiles; Tucker’s clean-shaven and Gabe’s with his trim beard.

  I’d been in Butte two years and hadn’t seen them in all that time, at least until the picnic the day before. My interest in them wasn’t something I could share. I’d met them when I was fourteen, and to say I had an instant crush was a gross understatement. But they were at least a decade older, and while solicitous, they’d barely glanced my way. And so I’d dreamed of them, watched them from afar with a young girl’s eager eye. I’d told no one of my feelings about them. With so many nosy neighbors in this small town, I couldn’t have had them discovering the truth. A fourteen-year-old girl with a crush. It would have been mortifying.

  But I was a girl no longer, and my interest in them had not waned in all those years. I hadn’t seen them all that often, but every man I met was measured against them. There had yet to be a worthy comparison. And now, at nineteen, I thought of them in new ways. Carnal ways. Naughty ways. Unfortunately, I could do nothing about this… attraction I had for them. I was not a woman to be forward, like Tennessee, and I’d certainly learned from her what happened if she behaved so. I had to think of my return as temporary because I had to worry more about saving her life than how just looking at those two men made my heart flutter and my nipples harden.

  But with them sitting in front of me, I took this rare chance. I didn’t just look. I stared, ogled even, and dreamed. Dreamed I would someday stand with them and recite wedding vows like Theresa and Emmett.

  One Landry was fair, the other dark. One broad, the other slim. One mild, the other brooding. I shouldn’t want two such different men, but I did. My heart wanted what my heart wanted, and that was the crux of my problem. It had been instant, the interest in them when I was younger. Every time I saw them since, it was like my heart skipped a beat. But with not having seen them for so long, the desire for them was immediate. Intense. I’d never felt anything like it before. I could admire them, as they were no hardship on the eyes. They were more than handsome. They made my body heat all over whenever they glanced my way at the picnic the day before. Surely every woman in town felt the same way.

  I wanted to feel how soft Gabe’s beard was beneath my fingers. I wanted to know how hard Tucker’s sinewy shoulders were. I wanted to hear Gabe’s deep voice whisper in my ear how he would claim me. I wanted Tucker’s broad body pinning me beneath him. I shifted on the hard pew, for my body was achy with need, a need I had never had fulfilled. And yet I was willing to slake it with the Landry brothers.

  Late that night, I thought of them unbidden. Just the night before, I’d lifted up the hem of my nightdress, parted my thighs, and touched myself. I thought of their large hands and imagined it was their fingers slipping inside me, sliding over my wet folds. I’d climaxed, my body tense and awash in pleasure as I whispered their names into the darkness. No, this was no girlhood fancy. Not any longer.

  As if they felt my heated gaze on them, they turned their heads and stared at me. Me! Gabe’s dark eyes pinned me in place as Tucker’s dropped to my mouth. It was blatant, and my heart skipped a beat. Could they see what I’d been thinking as if it were written on my face? Did they know I wanted them almost desperately? Could they sense I used them for my most illicit fantasies? When Tucker winked, I gasped. Hoping the sound wasn't too loud, my fingers flew to cover my lips, just in case.

  James, who sat beside me, glanced my way. I offered my brother a reassuring smile as everyone clapped for the newlyweds walking down the aisle.

  “That might be you, soon enough,” James said over the noise, patting the back of my hand.

  For a second, I thought he was referring to the Landrys, but then I remembered the truth. No, the lie. The lie I’d started at the picnic. I’d only returned from Butte the day before. James hadn’t allowed me to travel alone, so I’d waited after graduation for the Smith family, a local family in town to offer me escort. I realized if instead of waiting, I’d gone by myself as I’d wanted, I would have been away from Butte and avoided the entire mess with Tennessee. I wouldn’t have had to lie, wouldn’t have to fear for my friend or even James. Now, I had to return to Butte. With money. Somehow.

  Besides Christmas, it was my first time back in the two years since James sent me away to school. At seventeen, I’d been a little less ladylike than he wished, considering I’d been raised on a ranch with him serving the role of parent. He’d wanted me to attract a husband, but I knew my scar would deter all men from courting me. Instead, the school had kept me hidden away from any prospect. Because of this, I frowned at James for his comment then remembered.

  The lie.

  At the picnic, the ladies my age had gathered around the baked goods table and spoken of their new husbands or beaux. Unlike them, I’d lived a sheltered existence at school—at James’ insistence—and no man, except the piano teacher, had stepped inside the building, let alone courted me. I could not speak about a man of my own.

  But I needed a reason to go back to Butte so swiftly after coming home. A beau would keep my connection to the town, give me a reason to eagerly return and to then save Tennessee. When the crisis was resolved, I could just state I had ended the arrangement. No one would be the wiser, and I would never have to go back to the town again.

  With the ladies twittering on incessantly about how happy they were, I’d told the lie, a man in Butte. They looked at me first with surprise then happiness. I was the plain one, the one with no mother, no sisters. A plain face with an unattractive scar. I wore my hair in a simple braid, wore simple clothes. I was shy. The school had taught me how to play a lovely concerto and to plan a meal for fifteen, but men? I had no idea what I was doing.

  I’d been on the periphery of the group until that moment, but they’d pulled me into the fold eagerly asking after the man I’d snared. I’d assumed they would offer a passing response of “That’s nice,” then be done. I hadn’t expected them to be so pleased for me, so curious about him. It was amazing how the little fib took on a life of its own. It had worked its way across the picnic and, by the time the sun set, everyone in town, including my brother, believed I had a beau named Aaron Wakefield. My excuse to return to Butte was well established.

  It felt bittersweet to see James so happy for me, for he only wanted the best where I was concerned, specifically to see me well married. His happiness, though, was unfounded and based on a lie, and I ached to tell him the truth, that my friend was being held for ransom and I had to deliver the money. But he would hate me soon enough for stealing from him. Lying about a beau was trivial in comparison.

  I ached to tell him about Mr. Grimsby, but he would ride to Butte and threaten him. I’d rather have had him hate me for stealing than be shot by Mr. Grimsby. Tennessee’s father had been shot in cold blood. I couldn’t do anything to put James in jeopardy. Alive and angry was better than dead. I could live with that. And yet I didn’t want him to hate me either.

  He was my only relative; our parents died in a fire when I was small—and where I’d gained the scar—and he’d raised me singlehandedly. I hadn’t said anything when he’d bought a ranch and moved us from Omaha to start over. I hadn’t complained when he shipped me off to Butte for school since he was doing what he thought best. Perhaps he was protecting me from the stares of those who were cruel, those who thought I was dis
figured. Ugly. Like Mr. Grimsby had said.

  Until the Landrys inside the church. Their eyes on me made me feel anything but.

  And as they came across the churchyard toward James and me, I wanted to tell them I was free to court, free to love. I’d put a man of my own making in the way, and I ached to tell them the truth.

  They looked so handsome I wanted to leap into Gabe’s arms and kiss him as Tucker stroked my back, whispering some private, carnal words in my ear. I wanted to them to grab my hand and drag me down by the river and kiss me senseless.

  “One of the Landrys would make a good husband,” James commented, leaning close. Obviously he didn’t know the truth about Bridgewater, where two men married one woman. “But you’ve got your Aaron.”

  My stomach dropped. “Yes,” I replied. If I hadn’t made up a silly beau, I could tell James of my interest in both Landrys, for they would marry a woman together. Since he’d known them for years and they were friends, I had to assume he’d approve of them as suitors. As… more. “Still, you are quite the matchmaker,” I added, when he looked concerned. Clearly, he’d heard the dejected tone when I mentioned Aaron.

  “I want to see you happy, and that means married.”

  There wasn’t much else for a woman to do in these parts of the Montana Territory besides marry. Have children. And he was protective of me, ever since the fire. He was a good older brother, if ludicrously overprotective, but he’d seen me hurt enough, and not just physically.

  “You don’t belong on the ranch with me and the men. Hiding.”

  I hadn’t been on the ranch for two years. I’d always felt like he’d put me in the school to have me hide there, but I didn’t tell him anything of the sort. What I called hiding was his overprotectiveness rearing its head.