Their Christmas Bride Page 2

I nodded. "Yes, my family is quite large and I would just be one more mouth to feed. Do not worry yourselves, I will be fine." I didn't feel quite that way, but I did not need to share that. The men stopped and Mr. Quinn turned to me. He was so close the buttons of his jacket brushed against my breasts through the fabric of mine. I had to tilt my head up to look at him. Mr. Porter stepped in close so that his front was against my back. I was surrounded. The combined feel of them, their scent, was heady.

  "You will come to us if you ever have need," Mr. Quinn said. It had not been spoken as a question, but more a command.

  While the needs he had in mind probably leaned toward moving a trunk to the stage, my mind turned to my more carnal needs I'd like him to fulfill. I felt myself flush.

  "Both of us," Mr. Porter added with a deep voice and finality over my shoulder. His warm breath fanned over my nape and I shivered once again, this time for an entirely different reason.

  ***

  "Marry?" I asked, my voice high pitched.

  "I am a Justice of the Peace," the sheriff countered, as if I were questioning his abilities.

  I took a step back, broadening the distance from Mr. Porter. "You want to marry me?" My heart was about to gallop out of my chest.

  "I thought my attentions had been clear enough, but perhaps I was wrong."

  I swallowed, but it was hard to form my thoughts, let alone a sentence. "But...I mean, that is...oh."

  He took a step, then another so he could take my hands. Frowning, he worked the gloves off and tossed them to the floor, clearly frustrated he could not touch my skin directly. When he did, I gasped, the contact like lightning in a summer storm. I flicked a gaze up to his and he grinned.

  "You should have come to me, to us—" he angled his head toward Quinn, "—instead of running away."

  "I...I wasn't running from you."

  "You need not worry about Mr. Matthews and his lies, for we know they are such."

  "He told people I...I did things with him and that I stole from him." Tears burned the back of my eyes; the pressure of the man's avarice and mean plans was crumbling my resolve.

  A finger beneath my chin tipped my head up. "Oh no. Don't succumb now. You've been so strong, so brave."

  His words, not anything Mr. Matthews had done, had a tear slipping down my cheek and Porter wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. "We know you are innocent, in every way."

  "Then why did you pull me from the stage as if I were guilty?" I asked.

  "You would not listen," Mr. Quinn said. "You needed a firm hand."

  I wanted to contradict him, but Mr. Porter—Porter, cut in. "It worked, didn't it? We will be firm with you if the need strikes." He paused and let that settle in. "Now then, I apologize if my attentions were not clear enough for you. Please know, I have had my heart set on you from the first time we met."

  My eyes widened. "That was two years ago!"

  He grinned. "You're mine, Allison. You've been mine all along. Just say yes and I will make up for all the lost attention." He leaned in so that only I could hear. "I promise you will not doubt my interest, for it is very, very eager."

  I licked my lips at the idea of this big, burly, virile man being eager. His size blocked out the others in the room, took the air completely away, made my body warm in a way the freestanding stove could not, and I had no choice but to nod. I might have been desperate to get away from Mr. Matthews, but I was not crazy enough to turn this man down. I'd wanted him since the first time I met him as well. I wanted to fulfill every carnal thought I ever had about him and—

  Worry filled me, then shame. I leaned forward so our heads were close. "What about Quinn? He's been very attentive as well," I whispered. The man was in the same room and surely he knew his attentions had been for naught. Would Porter worry I might think of Mr. Quinn once we married?

  Perhaps he saw the concern on my face, for he touched his forehead to mine and I could do nothing but look into his dark eyes. "All will be right. Trust me."

  I nodded one more time and whispered, "Yes."

  That one word was all it took for Mr. Porter to step back, slip his hand once again in mine, turn us both toward the sheriff and say, "We're ready."

  "Wonderful," the sheriff said, rubbing his hands together. "A Christmas bride."

  It was when Quinn moved to stand on the other side of me, standing tall and proud as witness, that I became Mrs. Allison Porter, sealed with a brief, chaste kiss. As my first, it was gentle and left me unfulfilled, but the look in Mr. Porter's eye held a promise of so much more.

  He shook the sheriff's hand, as did Quinn. "We'll let you get back to your family."

  "The wife's got a goose in the oven, and the grandkids will have eaten all the fudge by now if I don't claim my share. Stay here for a bit, warm up before your journey home," the sheriff commented as he shrugged on his coat, took his hat down.

  "That's kind of you, sheriff. We'll take you up on that offer," Mr. Porter replied.

  "Ma'am." He nodded to me as he put on his hat and went out into the cold.

  Quinn shut the door behind him, and then bolted it. Both men turned to face me, then approached. I backed up until I ran into the bars of the single jail cell.

  "Now, wife, tell me again your reasoning for not coming to us when Matthews threatened you?"

  "Mr. Porter, I—"

  "Just Porter, Mrs. Porter," he replied. "I repeat, why?"

  He moved in so that his chest touched mine. The back of my head rested against one of the metal bars as I looked up at him. "Because...because he wanted to marry me and you didn't."

  His brow arched. "I didn't?" Looking to Quinn, who'd moved to stand at my side, he repeated, "I didn't?"

  Quinn shrugged as his finger came out to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear. The action was gentle and light, a complete contradiction to the size and tenseness of the man. "We made ourselves quite clear, on more than one occasion. We just didn't stoop to use slander or force."

  "Did he force you, Allison? I'd swear that kiss we just shared was your first, but if he hurt one hair on your head—"

  I shook my head fiercely. "No. He didn't touch me. He wanted me to marry him, but I did not wish it."

  "Why is that?"

  I took a breath. "Because he did not turn my head or pique my interest like—"

  "Like what, angel?"

  The endearment seemed to slip from Porter's lips easily and it felt...good.

  I was married to Porter and there was no way to back out now. I could pound on the sheriff's front door, even hold his wife's fudge as hostage, but he couldn't unsay the words. I was Porter's wife and nothing I said or did could change that. So I told them the truth. "Like you and Quinn."

  I watched the men's bodies relax before my eyes. Their shoulders lowered, their jaws unclenched.

  "But...but that's not right," I added. "I'm sorry Quinn, I find you just as...appealing, but I'm married to Porter."

  He smiled and little crinkles formed at the corner of his eyes. "That's true, but whomever Porter claims, I claim as well."

  I frowned, unsure if I heard him correctly. "What?"

  "You're my wife, too."

  It was so close, almost suffocating standing with them looming over me.

  "What Mr. Matthew's said about me is not true. I did not...lay with him. I am not a hussy to be handed about."

  Porter's jaw clenched once again. "Of course you're not."

  "You will give me to your friend? Being married to you and given to Quinn, that makes me a hussy!" I tried to push at Porter's chest to get him to step back, to let me breathe a little bit, but he wouldn't move. It was like trying to move a mountain.

  "I'm not giving you to Quinn," Porter said, his voice low as if riled. Perhaps he was, for I felt that way. "You are married to him as well. Many of the other men at Bridgewater were in the British army together and stationed in the country of Mohamir. This is their custom, more than one husband for a bride. They felt strongly enough in that country's ways
to make them their own. We would not live and work at Bridgewater if we believed otherwise. It is our way as well. Being married to two men is the Bridgewater way."

  "That's ridiculous. Laurel—"

  "Is married to Mason and Brody."

  My mouth fell open. "Olivia—"

  "Is married to Rhys, Cross and Simon."

  "She's married to three men?" I paused, and then realization dawned. "Oh God, I told the women I had eyes for Mr. McPherson that day I dropped off Rebecca's trunk." I covered my face with a hand.

  "Rebecca belongs to him, and MacDonald."

  I was mortified, sharing my girlish feelings with Rebecca about a man she'd just wed. "They must think I'm so silly!"

  Quinn took a hold of my chin. "Nonsense. Our customs are not commonly known and we keep it that way. While we consider the two of us claiming you to be normal, others would not consider it as such. Dash's attentions were on Rebecca and that was the day I escorted you home and redirected you toward me, and Porter did the same soon thereafter," he commented. "Isn't that right?"

  I glanced up at him through my lashes and nodded. Any interest I'd had in Mr. McPherson had been forgotten. Mr. Quinn released my chin and the skin there felt cold.

  "We both paid interest to you after that because we wanted you. We never would have vied for your attentions. We wanted them equally. We want them equally."

  "I thought just that, that you would fight each other," I murmured.

  Porter shook his head. "We were both courting you. Together. Looking back, can you see it?"

  I thought about how they'd escorted me about town, paid particular attention to me at town functions, stopped by the boarding house to say hello when they'd come to town—together and individually. While I'd been flattered and more than mildly pleased by their attentions, I hadn't considered it to be courting.

  "Yes, but I couldn't imagine either of you being serious if both of you were attentive." I placed my hands on my hips. "I assumed you both knew about the other's...focus and couldn't imagine it being anything but courteous."

  "We don't want to be courteous with you, at least not all the time."

  "Not right now," Porter added, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it.

  I didn't know exactly what they were speaking of, but my heart hammered in my chest at the possibilities. "What do we do now? I...I do not know what to do." How did one go about being married to two men?

  Something bright and hot flared in Porter's eyes. When I glanced at Quinn, he had a similar expression. "Now," Quinn said. "We make you ours."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  December

  Beneath the covers, my nightdress was bunched up about my waist. The only light that filtered into the room was from the half moon. My fingers stroked over my eager flesh. I knew how to rub myself, to bring myself quick and very illicit pleasure. In the past, it had been fast as I worried that the Arnolds would know of my late night activities. When they never fired me for my wanton behavior, I had to assume I had been quiet enough in finding swift release. But when Mr. Quinn and Mr. Porter talked to me earlier in the day, it was their faces, their broad smiles, and their even broader shoulders that filled my mind. The pleasure that built was only greater still when I imagined their hands on my body. How, I didn't know, perhaps having one of their hands replacing mine between my spread thighs, but my body wanted it. I had to bite my lip when the pleasure washed over me to prevent from crying out their names into the dark.

  ***

  "Don't worry about knowing what to do," Porter told me. "We know. First thing is to get you naked."

  My mouth fell open. "Naked?" I couldn't back up, couldn't go forward or to my left, so I slid along the bars to the right, but only made it a few inches before Porter's hand snaked out and grabbed the bar beside me, hemming me in completely.

  "Naked," Quinn repeated.

  I gulped. "You wanted to marry me just to see me without my clothes?"

  Both men paused and stepped back. While I appreciated the space to breathe, I'd clearly said something wrong.

  "If I just wanted a naked woman, I would have found one who wasn't so difficult and contrary," Porter said.

  I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "Then you should go and—"

  Quinn cupped his hand over my mouth and looked down at me as if I were being difficult and contrary. Oh dear, I was just as Porter described.

  "I want a woman who is difficult and contrary," he said.

  "And tiny and lush," Quinn added.

  "Who looks at both of us with curiosity and a hint of longing."

  "Whose smile brightens any room she's in."

  "Who is kind and friendly to the other women at Bridgewater."

  "Who wants us." Quinn dropped his hand as they slowly moved closer once again and this time I felt longing and desire and want and something akin to love. Perhaps it was, but I couldn't consider the notion at the moment. "Isn't that right, angel? Do you want us as much as we want you? We wanted you for our wife from the very beginning, but do you want us to be your husbands?"

  This was the moment. While I'd said yes earlier when Porter asked me to marry him, they couldn't ask if I'd take them both as my husbands in front of the sheriff. Porter had told me to trust him then, and I had. Did I trust them both now with my heart? That was what was at stake. I'd slowly been falling in love with them, bit by bit over the past two years. Perhaps that was why Mr. Matthews was so odious and of no interest to me. My heart had been held elsewhere.

  I looked at both men. They were so big and strong and brave and dominant, and yet I had the opportunity to hurt them. What they wanted with me was intimate and private and special and I couldn't just toss that to the wind.

  "Yes," I breathed. I nodded my head to back up my words. "Yes, I want you both as my husbands."

  They grinned and I couldn't help but smile as well.

  "Now then, we want you naked," Quinn repeated. He seemed to have a very specific focus and that solely involved me without any clothes. When I didn't make a move to remove them, he asked, "Shall we help?"

  Porter didn't wait for me to reply, for he seemed smart enough to know I had no plan to do as they requested, and his hands came up to the buttons down the front of my dress. I tried to slap them away, but he would not be dissuaded. Quinn moved back, out of my field of vision. I didn't care what he did, for Porter had worked the tiny buttons free all the way down to my navel with surprising haste. He pushed the material off my shoulders and down my arms, working it completely off of me to pool in a circle around my legs.

  "We can't do this here. Someone could come in!"

  The air was warm, but goose flesh rose on my bare arms. Porter stopped his motions and looked me over. I wore a plain corset with a chemise and drawers beneath. Heavy wool stockings covered my legs to above my knee and I wore my sturdy boots.

  "No one is going to come in. The door is bolted and the sheriff himself said that he was busy with his family." Porter spoke to me but kept his eyes on my body. "We only pulled him away because it was for a wedding."

  Quinn returned to my side and looked at my uncovered body as he spoke. "It's Christmas and it's time for us to unwrap our present."

  "This isn't what I imagined," I admitted.

  Two sets of dark eyes met mine. "You imagined us taking your clothes off?" Porter's voice was laced with intrigue. "What did you think of?"

  I'd caught myself in a trap, and the men knew it. I felt my cheeks flushed.

  "Tell us, sweetheart, what were your thoughts?"

  I bit my lip to keep from responding.

  Quinn's eyebrow went up. "It's going to be like that, is it?" His voice was smooth and clear, but filled with illicit promise. My nipples tightened beneath my corset and I was fortunate enough that they were hidden beneath my corset so the men couldn't see. "You can't keep secrets from your men, Allison."

  He lifted his hand and showed me the handcuffs dangling from two fingers.

  I frowned. "What—"
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  "You've been a bad girl, angel."

  I shook my head as Porter took hold of one of my wrists, Quinn the other. I fought against their grips, but even though their holds were gentle, I couldn't break free. Quinn wrapped one side of the handcuffs around one wrist, then the other, the clink of the metal loud in the small room.

  "I thought you wanted me to be your wife...no, you can't arrest me and leave me like this. I'm not wearing a dress!"

  Both men paused. "Leave you?" They shook their heads in unison. "We're not going anywhere, we're just tired of you holding back and resisting. We are your husbands now and as I said, no secrets."

  Porter lifted my wrists up and over my head, higher and higher so my arms were stretched out above me, until he hooked the chain of the handcuffs over my head on a hook on an iron bar. I tugged, but felt no give.

  "What are you doing?" All I could do was shift from foot to foot, turning only slightly.

  "We want answers, angel," Porter replied. "The faster you give them to us, the faster we will make you come."

  I hadn't heard that word before, but I knew what he meant. I flushed hotly at the very thought. It had been my dream to have them bring me to pleasure instead of doing it myself.

  "Ah, she knows to what we speak," Quinn added. "What did you imagine about being with us?"

  I shook my head, my lips pursed tightly together.

  Porter's hands worked the corset hooks loose, one at a time until he dropped the garment onto the floor. My breasts were small but with my hands above my head, they were thrust outward and the thin chemise couldn't hide my tight nipples or the upper swells. With my arms trapped, they couldn't pull the straps down and I felt relieved to know I would remain covered.

  So far, neither man had touched me skin to skin, except when Porter held my hand or the brief kiss during the ceremony. Now though, both men's hands ran up and down my arms, over the thin chemise to my hips and lower still to the exposed strip of thigh above my stockings and below the edge of my drawers. The intimate touch was startling and I gasped.

  "Did you imagine our hands on you like this? Undoing the tiny ribbons here at the top of your stockings? Sliding our hands behind your knees and calves? Taking off your boots to see your dainty feet?"