Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 3) Read online

  "Miss Weston, may I have this dance?" His voice was clipped, the words spoken with a strange accent.

  Realizing my mouth was open, I snapped it shut. I glanced briefly at Uncle Allen, not wanting to put him out, yet at the same time didn't want him to see any hint of the jolt I felt at just the stranger's simple question, but he nodded readily.

  "Yes, thank you," I replied.

  He held out his elbow and I wrapped my hand around his biceps. His very thick, hard and well muscled biceps. The cut of his jacket did nothing to diminish it. As he led me out onto the floor, he leaned down closer so he could speak solely to me. "I am Rhys, a friend of a man you danced with earlier. Cross? Do you remember him?"

  Remember? How could I have forgotten? But this man, he was so completely different than Mr. Cross. He was just as tall, but leaner. Darker, yet more intense. While Cross had been calm and offered his protection somewhat like a heavy winter blanket, Mr. Rhys was bright assurance and confidence. People parted for us; the man had a way about him that called for deference. When he took my hand in his he was just as gentle as Mr. Cross, but he had much more intent, placing my hand about his waist and the other upon my shoulder just as he wanted. When the music began and we started to move, I felt as if I was being taken for a dance rather than led.

  As I glimpsed up at him through my lashes, I realized I'd been comparing instead of considering them separately. It wasn't as if I'd see Mr. Cross again, and there was certainly no reason for comparison. The men were different and just like Mr. Cross, when this dance ended I would not see Mr. Rhys again either. And so I stilled my thoughts and just enjoyed being held in the circle of his arms, knowing that he sought out the dance and had been interested specifically in my attentions.

  "Miss Weston, it is rare to see a Black Irish such as yourself, and a quite lovely one at that," he commented. I'd heard the reference to my hair and eye color before, but that was not what made me misstep. A firm hand on my hip held me securely without a chance to fumble.

  "How do you know my name?" I asked, cocking my head slightly.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. "As I said, Cross is my friend and he thought I might enjoy meeting you."

  How strange. "Why?"

  He frowned slightly and a small line formed at his brow. "Why?" he repeated. "It isn't often that either of us see such a beautiful woman, a woman who catches both of our eyes."

  I couldn't help but flush at the compliment, but at the same time felt it odd. "You share dance partners?"

  He took a moment before answering. "We share many things, Miss Weston."

  Another odd answer, but I was intrigued. "Your friend, Mr. Cross, said that he was from a ranch east of here. Do you fare from that direction as well, for your accent is quite unique?" Surely it was idle chit-chat, but I didn't know what else to ask. He had me off kilter and the dance would end soon enough and that meant he would leave me just like his friend. It was just a dance. Nothing more.

  "I am British, but I have not been there in some time. My home is Bridgewater, as is Cross'."

  "Is it quite large?"

  He arched a dark brow at my question, but responded easily enough. "I believe it to be one of the largest in the area, but we are a ranch of many."

  "You are here in Helena on business or pleasure?"

  "This dance and your company, Miss Weston, are all pleasure." The compliment heated my cheeks and I did not know how to respond, nor could I continue to look at him, so I studied the buttons on his dark jacket, just as I had with his friend. He was as neat as his friend. "We are in Helena to purchase a horse."

  "You and Mr. Cross?"

  The music played and the people danced around us but I, like before, ignored it all.

  "Cross and I, as well as a good friend of ours, Simon."

  "You have many friends," I added. I had many acquaintances, but no close, bosom friends.

  "Not many, but the ones I do have I hold in the highest of esteem. And you? Your chaperone, Cross said he was your uncle?"

  "Yes. My parents died when I was small and he raised me."

  His hand tightened about my waist briefly. "I am sorry to hear about your parents."

  A flicker of sadness appeared in his eyes was quickly hidden.

  "You have lost family as well?" I ventured.

  He gave a single nod. "I, unlike you, did not have an uncle to take me in and orphans are not held in the highest regard where I come from. Over time, I have learned that a family is one you make, so I have been lucky."

  I faltered. "You are wed then?" I glanced around as if I could find a woman on the fringes of the dance that could be his wife. It was a silly act, but kept me from seeing the truth on his face.

  "Of course not. I would not dance with another if I were married."

  The dance drew to a close and Mr. Rhys led me back to my uncle, his hand upon the small of my waist. The feel of it sent tingles down my spine. Had I insulted him? A crushing feeling invaded my chest at the realization that I'd insulted his honor, for an honorable man would not seek out another woman for a dance or any other type of amusement.

  "Sir." Mr. Rhys held out his hand to my uncle and introduced himself. "Thank you for the opportunity to dance with your niece."

  "Anytime, young man," he replied. He seemed impressed by Mr. Rhys and was not aware of the gaffe I had made. "You are not from around here."

  He shook his head. "No, sir. I am from Bridgewater."

  Uncle Allen's face changed then, in some slight way I couldn't identify, but it wasn't disdain. He was...pleased somehow. Impressed, too. "I am familiar with another gentleman from the ranch, a Mr. Kane, I believe."

  The dark slash of Mr. Rhys' brows rose in surprise. "Yes, Kane is part of Bridgewater as well."

  "He purchased cattle last year from a man in Simms, I believe," Uncle Allen added.

  "He did." He paused, then grinned. "Weston, yes. Now I have the connection. They were your cattle then."

  Uncle Allen nodded.

  "We are in town to purchase a stud horse, however the arrangement has not been as smooth as Kane's dealings with your man last year."

  "Oh? Who is your connection here in Helena?"

  "Clayton Peters. While he has been somewhat difficult to work with, his horse flesh is quite impressive."

  I stiffened at the mention of his name.

  "We are quite familiar with Mr. Peters," Uncle Allen said darkly. The curt tone and stiffness in his shoulders were not missed by Mr. Rhys.

  "Is there something we should know about the man as part of our dealings? Has he treated you wrongly?"

  To my surprise, Uncle Allen took my hand in his. "I have much respect for the men of Bridgewater, and of your ways, so I will share something with you." He lifted my hand and tugged the lace cuff of my dress back to show the bruises Mr. Peters had inflicted.

  Mr. Rhys' eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he looked at the dark marks about my wrist. "Peters?" When I didn't answer, he looked to my uncle, who nodded. "Did he hurt you in any other way?" he asked me.

  The vehemence and anger in his gaze had me stepping back, but I could not move from my uncle's gentle hold. I was embarrassed at my weakness being shared with a stranger and I covered my wrist with my other hand. "No, just wounded my pride," I replied.

  "I am in town with Cross, whom you met, Miss Weston, as well as Simon McPherson. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to contact any one of us, now or at Bridgewater."

  "Thank you," Uncle Allen replied. "These two men, they are of like minds as you?"

  A look passed between the men but I did not know what it was. Mr. Rhys nodded and replied, "Indeed." The man turned to me and offered slight bow. "Miss Weston, the pleasure was mine. I hope to make your acquaintance again soon."

  I murmured a soft thank you, but my throat was dry. His dark eyes held mine a moment longer, as if trying to see something deep within. Then he turned and left.

  "Lightning, Olivia?" my uncle asked, eyes twi
nkling, questioning how I felt for the man.

  My cheeks flushed and knew I could not hide any emotion from my uncle. "Lightning," I repeated.

  "Not just for Rhys, either, hmm?" he queried, then chuckled when I blushed even more hotly.

  Hmm, was right. I felt something for two men. What was wrong with me?

  CHAPTER TWO

  SIMON

  "By the looks on your faces I missed something," I said to Cross and Rhys, pouring whiskey into three glasses. I picked up my own as I eyed them.

  "Not something, someone," Cross replied, downing his shot in one big gulp.

  "If it was Peters, I ken. The bastard said he wanted to finish the deal to get to the dance. I believe his words were, 'I've got a fancy piece I want to get my hands on. Her being prim and all, a dance is the only way the virgin bitch will let me touch her.'"

  I tossed back my whiskey as I thought about the bastard's words. I didna like to hear a woman talked about in that way, no matter who she was. If I were her father or brother or any relation whatsoever, I would have beat him and left him for the vultures.

  Rhys leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "He said that?"

  I nodded, placed my forearms on the table. "If he didna have the stud horse we want, I wouldna get near the man."

  "He was speaking of Olivia," Rhys shared.

  "Olivia?" I asked, my voice loud, even over the tinny piano music. I glanced left and right at the others in the saloon, then leaned forward and lowered my voice. "Who the hell is Olivia?"

  "She's the one," Cross said.

  "He's right," Rhys added. "She's definitely the one."

  I couldna help but look at them in surprise, for having both men agree on a woman had ne'er happened before.

  "And Peters talked about her that way?" I asked. "What is the chance he will win her?"

  "None," Cross replied.

  Rhys looked between us, tilted his chair back on two legs. "Peters touched her," he said.

  Cross placed his forearms on the table, too. "What?" he shouted. "How?"

  "I don't know the details, but she had bruises on her wrist. Her uncle will keep him away from her now that he knows of what the bloody bastard's capable."

  "That fucker's insane. From what I can tell of his character, he could inflict more than bruises." The idea didn't sit well and I hadna even laid eyes on the woman my friends were ready to claim.

  Hell, we were more than friends. Rhys was a brother forged by battle, by hardship and life in a corrupt army regiment. We, along with the other men at Bridgewater, persevered and built the ranch on our own. Our safe haven, our land, our family. Together, Rhys, Cross and I would, someday, claim a woman as ours, just as we'd learned from our time spent defending diplomats in the small middle eastern country of Mohamir. Disappointed by the Victorian social values, we adopted the Mohamiran ways where a woman was bound to more than one man, possessing her and cherishing her. Multiple husbands were for the wife's own good, for she, and any children produced in the union, wouldna be without a man's protection.

  Rhys and I met Cross when we arrived in America. He'd joined us in a fight to protect a whore against a group of men set on raping her. We'd left Boston together and he'd fled west with us. The journey and the years together since had forged a brotherhood just as readily as had the war. We helped build Bridgewater into the successful ranch it was with the other men and the three of us would claim a bride together.

  Kane and Ian had married Emma the year before, Andrew and Robert had claimed Ann prior to that. Over the winter, Mason and Brody had found their bride, Laurel, when they rescued her from a blizzard. We hoped we'd find a woman of our own, but it wasna an easy task. To find a woman that one of us wanted was nae as hard, but finding one woman all three of us longed for was much more difficult.

  This arrangement—three men for one bride—wasna something we shared with the world, so it was quite difficult to ken when a woman would want all three of us.

  We'd share, we'd claim, we'd possess her together. We just didna ken who she was yet. It seemed, though, that both Rhys and Cross kent this woman Olivia might be the one. It boded well if both of them found her appealing.

  "Describe her," I said.

  Cross indicated with a tilt of his chin. "Hair as dark as yours."

  "Petite," Rhys added, using his hands to indicate her height, then shifted his hands to show off the shape of her curves.

  Cross laughed. "It is true, she has very nice curves."

  "There are women upstairs with dark hair and curves," I countered, referring to the loose women who worked above the saloon servicing patrons all night long.

  Both men's faces hardened and I feared my nose would be broken if I spoke again of this Olivia woman in a disparaging way. "Shit," I muttered, then held up my hands to ward them off. "It's like that."

  Both men nodded. "It's like that," Cross repeated.

  "I met her uncle," Rhys said. "The name Weston mean anything?"

  I thought about where I'd heard the name before, and then it came to me.

  "The deal with the cattle?" I asked.

  "Didn't Kane say that he...?" Cross asked, but cut off the end of his question, for we all kent the answer.

  Both men grinned and I joined them, knowing that Olivia's uncle would approve of our ménage lifestyle, for he lived it himself. Kane had said the man who'd sold us the cattle the previous summer shared a wife with another man, but seemed to have kept that fact a secret from his niece. Kane had only said good things about him, so if he vouched for Allen Weston, then it was good enough for us. It only helped our cause when we wanted to marry her, for her uncle wouldna disparage three men claiming her. He'd see it as a perk.

  I poured another round of whiskey. "She's ours."

  OLIVIA

  I couldn't sleep, too restless with the handsome faces of Mr. Cross and Mr. Rhys haunting me as I tossed and turned. I relived every moment of both dances, their words, the feel of their hands upon me, their distinct scents, Mr. Rhys' unusual accent. Everything. I groaned. Nothing would erase their images from my mind so I put on my robe and went to the kitchen for a snack.

  "You were quite a catch at the dance," Uncle Allen said, surprising me as I came into the room. I should have seen him there, and it was clear indication my mind was wandering. He had a cup of coffee in hand, the steam rising from the top. How he could drink something so strong and fall asleep afterward was beyond me.

  I went to the icebox and took out the pitcher of milk, poured myself a glass and joined him at the table. We took our meals in the kitchen, the two of us simple enough where we did not need to eat in the much larger dining room. While Uncle Allen was quite wealthy, he did not flaunt it and I'd grown up the same. The house wasn't large or ostentatious like others nearby where money was flaunted; it was just big enough for us to be content. We were both simple people with basic needs.

  I could feel my cheeks heat and so I took my time drinking my milk to collect myself. "Yes," I replied neutrally.

  "Two men especially were very handsome and seemed very taken with you."

  Handsome? Mr. Cross and Mr. Rhys were not just handsome. They were stunning, virile, strong, intense. They were...lightning.

  He had a hint of gray in his hair, but otherwise his age did not show. He was well connected in the Helena community and beyond through his work. The fact that he knew men from the Bridgewater Ranch was quite a coincidence, yet showed how powerful he was in the Territory. While he was busy with all of his endeavors, I wasn't as settled, perhaps because I'd been waiting for something more. Lightning. I'd been waiting for that.

  I could not avoid looking at Uncle Allen any longer. He had always been able to see all of my secrets, although I did not have many. "They are both very handsome, both very...manly," I replied, trying to be as neutral as possible.

  He smiled. "They are that. I know some of the other men from Bridgewater quite well. I have nothing but good things to say and if you are ame
nable, if these men come calling, I will be more than happy to welcome them into our home."

  "Them? I doubt one will come, let alone both of them."

  "I believe Rhys said there's a third man from Bridgewater here in town as well. Simon McPherson."

  A third. Could he possibly be as attractive as the other two?

  "Nothing will come from meeting either man," I said, cutting off any hope he may have at making a match. "They are not from here and clearly spent the evening dancing with women to pass the time as they are here on business."

  "I did not see either man dance with any other woman," he countered, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

  My heart leapt at that thought, but surely he was mistaken. I shook my head at the silly notion. "It matters not. They are most likely on their way back to Bridgewater as we speak."

  "At this time of night?" He shook his head. "I will not force any man upon you, nor will I keep you from one who has captured your heart. As I said, you will know when the right man comes along."

  I took a sip of my milk, and then said, "What if it feels right with more than one man?"

  I winced, worrying my uncle would think me too forward.

  "More than one man?" He considered, but did not seem stunned by my question. "You mean both Bridgewater men?"

  I nodded.

  "I am not adverse to the notion of a woman having more than one man protect her. So, did the lightning strike twice, then?"

  He grinned and I blushed.

  "You don't think something's wrong with the feeling of lightning striking with two men?" Surely something was wrong with me if I did so, or I'd have to pick one and that would be quite hard.

  "Olivia, I have something to tell you. You're well old enough now to know and, hopefully, to understand. I—"