Their Wayward Bride Page 10

  His grip tightened on my arm at the mention of my father.

  "I know him rather well, actually, and he can't change it if he's dead."

  I stilled in his hold. What did he mean? "Dead? My...my father's dead?"

  Something dark and evil flared in his eyes and he grinned. "He tried to cross me, to keep me from getting the land that rightfully was mine. From you. He was stupid to think he'd get away with it. Of course he's dead. I shot him...right...between...the...eyes." He tapped a finger to his forehead. "Just like I’m going to do to you."

  He'd killed my father and now I was alone in the house with him. The wild look about him had me panicking, fighting against his hold.

  "I can't help you with whatever your plan is if I'm dead, too." I needed to escape! Being alone in the house with him was not going to keep me alive. He'd plotted this all along. When they'd come to the ranch the other day, Palmer had been the one in control. My father only wanted to find me because he owed Palmer.

  "I wanted you, at first. The idea of a meek virgin who'd been sheltered as if she were a nun held appeal, but you've been a whore here on Bridgewater. I don't take sloppy seconds." He slowly shook his head. "No, my plans for you have changed. I don't need you alive to inherit your land with this marriage license. In fact, I need you dead."

  My eyes widened and blood roared in my ears. "What? Why?"

  "Marriage makes the land rightfully mine regardless of whether I'm your husband...or widower. Since you're used goods and worth nothing to me, widower is more appropriate. I want the land. It's more valuable than you."

  He carefully put the supposed marriage license back in his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun. A gun! I didn't think, just reacted. I grabbed his wrist in both my hands, fighting with him to keep the weapon from pointing in my direction, but he was stronger and bigger than I. Twisting and turning, I used all my might and struggled with him, but a shot fired. Fortunately, it went wide and into a wall. I gasped at the shock of it, the nearness of the bullet to my head. The sound was deafening and my ear rang.

  I remembered the words of a teacher at school, who mentioned a way to defend inappropriate advances of an overeager suitor. At the time, I didn't imagine it would work for I barely had contact with men to even consider the idea, but I now knew a man's physique. I brought my knee up as hard as I could, sliding it right up the man's inner thigh and I connected squarely with his...man parts. I couldn't think of it as a cock, for that was what Mason and Brody had and theirs were hard and thick and ready for me. This man...I swallowed back bile at the very idea. He made a high-pitched squeak and bent at the waist. His arm went lax and I was able to grab the gun from him.

  I was breathing hard, sweat coating my brow. I kneed him one more time before I dashed out of the room, my long dress tangling around my legs. All I could think of was getting to Mason and Brody, having their arms around me, protecting me, sheltering me from everything bad. With fumbling fingers, I opened the front door and dashed out onto the porch. I held the gun up into the air and fired a shot, the kick from it reverberating up my arm.

  I remembered what Emma and Ann had said. Three shots meant help was needed. I fired again, my eyes squeezing shut and my body tensing.

  "You!" Mr. Palmer was hunched over, but approaching quickly down the hall. His eyes were narrowed and an evil gleam showed. It was as if I'd poked a hibernating bear and not only did he have intent, he was now very, very angry. "You bitch. You are going to—"

  As he came through the door with his arms out to grab me, I turned and aimed. It was him or me. Bang.

  MASON

  That morning we had given Laurel one of the pretty dresses Emma had picked out for her. It was a dark green that flattered her hair and matched her eye color perfectly. Both Brody and I had enjoyed her walking around in just a corset, then just her corset and stockings over the past two days, but I also thrilled to know that I could just toss up her dress and find her bare and ready beneath. I liked knowing that all of her hot, wet secrets were hidden for Brody and me alone.

  We were both in the stable, mucking out stalls when McPherson came in leading his horse. "I see you've left yer bride." He grinned at us as he patted his horse's side, and then worked the buckle free on the saddle. "Took ye both, what, a week for yer cock stands to go down?"

  I looked to Brody who was shaking his head slowly, but he had a grin on his face for he was well pleased with his new bride—as was I. We knew we'd get some grief from the others, especially the unmarried men, taking so long to tend and fuck our new wife. "No chance in hell of that happening. I just have to think of her and I get hard."

  In fact, I shifted my cock in my pants to ease the growing ache as we spoke about her. It had only been two hours since we fucked her last, but my cock didn't care.

  "Have ye heard the news?" McPherson asked, lifting the saddle off the animals back and placing it on a rack. He removed the blanket next.

  "News?" I rested my forearms on the top of the pitchfork I held.

  "Turner's dead."

  Brody stilled, glanced at me. "Dead? How?"

  "Shot in cold blood."

  I shoved the pitchfork into a pile of straw and walked over to McPherson. "What do you mean cold blood?"

  McPherson's eyebrows went up. "Don't know. Saw the sheriff at the livery and he said that after they left here last week, Mr. Palmer, the bastard that was in the group, was right pissed at Turner. They argued, mentioned something about a debt being paid. Turner replied that it was all taken care of."

  "What the hell does that mean?" Brody asked.

  McPherson held up his hands in front of him. "From what I heard at the mercantile—word spreads fast and the sheriff isn't the only one with news—Turner was a gambler. Bad at cards. Lost everything."

  "To Palmer." I gritted my teeth. Something wasn't right. I had a bad feeling in my gut.

  "If Palmer collected his money, why was he so bloody pissed?" Brody asked.

  "Right. Palmer was angry enough to kill him," McPherson stated. "Why?"

  We glanced at each other and the reason became clear. "Laurel." Brody and I said it at the exact same time.

  McPherson's head came up, his eyes sharp. "Where is she?"

  "At the house. We need to—"

  A shot rang out, coming from a distance, but clear and loud in the still air.

  My heart seized at the sound and we ran to the stable door and threw it open.

  Bang. A second shot.

  "Shit," Brody muttered. "It's coming from the house." He grabbed the reins on McPherson's horse and led it outside and mounted deftly.

  McPherson grabbed the gun from the pegs above the door. "Brody!"

  He tossed the rifle and Brody caught it before he spurred the animal into motion.

  McPherson and I started running in the direction of the house and Laurel. What the hell was going on? Was it Palmer or something else? Was Laurel the one firing the shots to call us to help or was she defending herself? Or worse, had someone shot her? I picked up my pace, running as fast as I could through the deep snow. I needed to get to her, but was relieved to know Brody would almost be there by now.

  "The others will come, too," he breathed. He kept pace with my sprint. "It's only been two shots so that doesn't mean anything."

  Bang. A third shot, which meant—

  "Laurel!"

  CHAPTER TEN

  BRODY

  I barely slowed the horse before I jumped down. Laurel sat on the porch floor in the cold, her hair wild and half down from the pins, a gun held tightly in her hands and aimed at a body lying on the ground. Based on the blood beginning to pool around him, he wasn't getting up again. I dashed up the stairs, my footsteps loud and skidded to a stop in front of the man. I aimed my rifle at him as I nudged him with my foot, and then pushed him over onto his back.

  Palmer. His eyes were open and staring fixed at the ceiling of the porch, a crimson stain of blood spreading across his white shirt. He was dead.

  My he
art pounded and my muscles were tense and ready to kill. I wanted to shoot him myself, to relieve some of this pent-up angst and fear. Swiveling, I dropped to my knees in front of Laurel, put the rifle down gently beside us on the floor.

  "Laurel," I said, my voice soft. I held my hands out by my sides not wanting to startle her.

  She hadn't moved since I came up, her eyes focused solely on Palmer, the gun still raised and aimed at the man. The strong tang of blood filled the crisp air.

  I reached out slowly and took her hands in mine. They were so cold, icy even, and not from the freezing weather. I doubted she even knew I was there. "Laurel, give me the gun. Laurel," I repeated, louder this time.

  She shook her head slowly. "No. He's dangerous. He'll hurt—"

  "He's dead, sweetheart. He can't hurt you now." Her hands relaxed enough for me to take the gun from her and place it beside the rifle. "Look at me."

  She was in shock, stunned and petrified, but whole. What had the man done before she'd fired the shots? Clearly one of bullets had killed him.

  "Laurel," I said one more time, my voice deeper and more commanding.

  She blinked and turned her head to mine. I saw the moment her eyes focused and she saw me.

  "Brody!" she cried, hurling herself into my arms, burying her face in my shoulder. "He...it was awful. I remembered to fire the three shots, but he was coming after me and I only fired two." Her voice was high and she was on the verge of hysteria. I didn't blame her one bit, for I was a little unsettled as well. I couldn't go crazy, though; it was my job to soothe, to make her safe. I'd done a fuck all job of it, having to defend herself from the bloody bastard, but she was safe now. I hugged her tightly.

  "No. No, sweetheart. You fired all three and we heard you. We came as fast as we could, but you took care of yourself. I'm so proud of you." I stroked my hand over her hair, again and again, hoping my warmth would seep into her.

  "I thought...he had a gun and—"

  She shuddered once and then began to sob.

  I pulled her up onto my lap and tucked her head beneath my chin, my arm about her waist holding her securely. I did nothing but rock her and let her cry, all the while staring down at Palmer's lifeless body.

  I could feel her heart beating, savor the sharp grip of her fingers in my shirt, inhale the floral scent of her hair, and yet I couldn't get her close enough. The thought of losing her, of how close she'd come to being killed had me want to shoot the bastard all over again. She'd literally fallen into our life by the hands of Fate and I wasn't prepared to lose her now. I couldn't lose her.

  Mason and McPherson ran up then, the snow crunching beneath their feet and breathing hard. They took in the situation and I met Mason's gaze over Laurel's head. I gave a brief nod and his shoulders dropped in sheer relief. He bent at the waist and lowered his hands to his knees to take a moment to breathe. He mounted the steps and came down on his knees in front of me, stroking his hand down Laurel's back.

  "Everything's fine now. You're safe. Mason's here with me and we're going to take care of you," I murmured, although we'd done fuck all to protect her from Palmer.

  McPherson came up the steps. "I'll take care of the bastard," he growled, nudging the man's leg even though he was obviously dead. "You two take care of your woman."

  Mason took her from my arms and stood, carrying her into the house. I followed, slamming the door shut behind us, blocking out Palmer, the closeness we'd come to losing our wife, to everything.

  McPherson and the others would deal with Palmer for us. Laurel needed her men.

  I followed Mason up the stairs and into his bedroom and I closed the door behind us. Lowering her to the floor, Mason set her back from him so he could look at her. I moved to stand directly beside him.

  "Sweetheart, did he hurt you?" he asked.

  My gaze raked over her body. Her dress wasn't torn; it was only dirty in spots from where she’d been sitting on the porch. Her hair had come undone and tears stained her pale cheeks, but otherwise she looked...whole.

  She shook her head. "No. He...he just grabbed me, but I'm not hurt."

  Mason's hands went to the buttons on her new dress. "We're going to take this off you and take a look and make sure. You've had a scare."

  "We've all had a scare," I added. "Let your men make sure you're not hurt."

  She glanced between us and nodded. "For you, yes."

  Mason's hands moved quicker now. He stripped the dress, her corset, even her stockings and boots so she stood before us naked. I ran my hands over her shoulders and down her arms as Mason worked his way up her body. There were red marks above her elbows that might bruise, and my jaw clenched at the sight. I moved to stand behind her so she was surrounded by the two of us, my hands moving up and down her back, past the little dimples at the base of her spine, over her lush arse, then back up again. We needed to touch all of her, to ensure she was whole, real and ours.

  "He...he said we were married. He had a license." Even though we touched her, she was distracted.

  My hands paused. "A marriage license?"

  She nodded. "A judge signed it and it looked official. He said my marriage to Mason wasn't real."

  Mason shook his head. "Our marriage is real, sweetheart. There's no question. Palmer could have bribed a judge, but God joined us. Before that, were joined when we took your virginity. Hell, we claimed you the first time we saw you."

  He said just what I was thinking.

  "I...I shot him. I didn't mean to, but he was coming toward me. I...kneed him in his...there, and then I ran but he recovered and—"

  Christ. She'd have to live with killing Palmer for the rest of her life. Every man at Bridgewater had killed before; it had been our job to do so. But not Laurel. She'd had to shoot a man dead or die herself.

  "You were defending yourself. You did nothing wrong. He was a bad man." Mason stroked her arms.

  I leaned forward and kissed her shoulder. "Shh," I soothed. "Mason's right, he was a right bloody bastard and he can't hurt you ever again. You took care of that yourself, didn't you, sweetheart? We're so proud of you. No more about Palmer. I don't want him in this bedroom with us."

  Hot tears rushed down her cheeks again, but this time it was more from overwhelming emotion than fear. "I...I didn't think I would see you again. Oh, your hands feel so good." Her head tilted back and I kissed up the nape of her neck. "All I thought about was you. Getting to you. Being with you. I...I need you. Both of you."

  She became bold then, empowered by the threat that danger had held over her. She reached up and worked at Mason's shirt. Her overwhelming emotions shifted to frantic need and her fingers fumbled. "Please, I need you. I need you both. Make Palmer go away. Take me."

  Fervently, she kissed Mason's chest that had been exposed. "I know...you have been waiting...." Each pause in her words was a kiss. "I need both of you. I want to truly be yours."

  I tugged on Laurel's hair, forcing her head to turn. It wasn't rough, but I wasn't gentle either. Her wild eyes met mine. She needed this. She needed someone to be in charge, to make her forget. To make her let go. She'd taken care of Palmer, and now we'd take care of her. "Together? You want to take us together, sweetheart?"

  Instead of answering, she took my hand and put it between her thighs, my fingers slipping over her slick folds. She was dripping wet and I could feel her clit, hard and pulsing. She looked over her shoulder, took Mason's hand and brought it between her legs from behind. A gasp escaped her lips as Mason must have brushed a finger over her sensitive rosebud.

  She pressed her hand over my cock through my pants, but I had a clear enough head to tell her no. "You're not in charge, Laurel, your husbands are. We decide when we fuck you and how." I didn't move her hand away, but curled one finger just inside her opening to make her hand fall away. Her eyes slipped shut and she moaned.

  Her nipples hardened at my stern words and the touch of my finger.

  "Do you want me to fill your arse with my cock?" Mason asked as
he nipped at her neck, leaving a trail of reddened skin in his wake.

  Laurel angled her head, offering Mason better access, and nodded her head.

  "Then we should see if you're ready. Up on the bed on your hands and knees, arse up in the air."

  Mason made space for her to move and she readily complied, settling onto the middle of the bed on her knees, then lowered her cheek to the quilt, her green eyes on us. It was the perfect submissive pose, her pussy and arse on perfect display, showing us what was ours. Her pussy lips were the prettiest pink and furled open, exposing her narrow passage and pale pearl. The lovely thatch of fiery red hair was directly below. Her back entrance winked at us, still a hint of slick ointment from our play earlier. With the way she took the plug this morning, I knew she'd be ready for us, but since Mason would claim her arse, he would take the time to ensure she could take him.

  I stripped off my clothes with haste and took in the sight of Laurel's perfect body. Her breasts hung down heavily, the nipples plump. My mouth watered wanting to taste them again. My cock bobbed and ached for her. Mason's eyes met mine. He nodded. It was time.

  I moved to sit on the bed, my back propped up against the headboard, spreading my legs so they were on either side of Laurel's shoulders. She looked up at me from her position on her forearms; she was so eager, so ready. I crooked my finger. "Come here, sweetheart."

  She pushed up onto her hands and she crawled toward me, her breasts swaying beneath her as she did so. She stopped with her mouth just inches from my burgeoning cock. I grabbed hold of the base and stroked up and down the length, clear fluid oozing from the tip and down over my fingers. Just seeing her mouth there, her lips wet from her tongue had my hips shifting.

  "Suck my cock, sweetheart."

  Her eyes held mine briefly, then dropped to my cock. She licked her lips, then lowered her head, licking the broad head clean, but didn't linger, taking the entire length into her mouth. I hissed out a breath at the hot, wet feel of her mouth. Her tongue flicked over the head, then swirled up and down the length.