Their Treasured Bride Page 3

  "No. I won't tell," she replied. "You're willing to marry me—you do not know a thing about me—even though I'm married to Dash? It is quite a step all because you want to kiss me."

  I grinned. "I do want to kiss ye, and more. Dash and I have been waiting for our bride to come along, although we had nae expected it over the noonday meal, but we have always planned to share a bride, ever since our time in Mohamir. I have no plan to walk away. If Montgomery married ye to Dash, then he knew that he married ye to me as well. He knew of our ways, but couldna put both our names on the marriage license. This is what he wanted."

  Rebecca glanced from me to Dash, and then back, then pursed her lips.

  "What is it, lass?" I asked. "Ye dinna have to hold yer tongue with us."

  "He wanted to shame me?"

  "Shame? Yer brother was honoring ye."

  "Honor?" Her cheeks brightened as she unleashed a hint of her frustration. About bloody time. "That word keeps coming up. I thought he was saving me from an arranged marriage to a man three times my age, but instead was choosing to humiliate me. He was using me to get back at my father."

  I felt her disappointment. She was clearly confused, lost and most likely overwhelmed.

  "Shame ye? Ye dinna understand our ways, lass," Dash said. "Your brother knew our ways were the best for ye. He wasna shaming ye, he was protecting ye."

  "How?" She turned away, walked a few steps, spun around. "I...I don't understand."

  "Tis easy to become a widow in these parts," I began. "Many a thing befalls a man, just as ye know from your brother's accident. Widows fall prey to unworthy suitors and often have nay choice but to marry again, and nae for love or even kindness. If a woman has more than one husband, she never has to worry about being left alone in the world. The children that are made from the union are protected. Ye willna fear going hungry or lonely. Ye are safe, cherished, adored, protected and above all, honored."

  She didna seem swayed, so I continued. "I'm doing this for ye, sweetheart. If ye need me to say the vows before God for ye to know I am yours, then I will do it."

  I held out my arm and escorted her to the door of the small church. I stopped and turned to face her. "Know this, sweetheart, when I make ye mine, ye'll get all of me, everything I have, everything I am, and that includes kisses...and more."

  CHAPTER THREE

  REBECCA

  The ride back to the ranch was vastly different than the ride into town. We'd returned my horse to the livery and I sat sideways atop Connor's lap. If gossip in the Montana Territory was anything like London, everyone in town would know before nightfall that Connor and I were wed, so it would seem odd for me to sit on the lap of the witness instead of the groom.

  While I had never been kissed before this day, I had never sat upon the lap of a man before either. It was quite surprising and extremely uncomfortable. Connor's thighs were solid muscle and rock hard, shifting with the sway of the horse. I did not wish to lean into him, for he'd think I was seeking out his attentions, especially after the kiss we'd shared following our vows. Connor took the vows to God—and to me—to heart, for the kiss was much more of a claiming than the quick one we'd shared in the entry of their house. I'd even gasped in surprise when he stuck his tongue in my mouth. His tongue, just as Dash had! I'd thought Dash had done it wrong, but clearly it was expected.

  Thinking about that had me sitting ramrod straight, although his arms were about me and held the reins. It was exhausting remaining so tense. Did he know I was tense? Of course, he did.

  The women I'd met at lunch were so easygoing and carefree, clearly happy with their husbands, their new families, their lives. Everything. They did not fear sharing their feelings, smiling...anything. They did not worry about what others would think of them, or whether the headmistress would strike you with a ruler or a switch for the slightest of infractions.

  I would never be like them. While Cecil had rescued me from my father's plans, he had not done it in time. He was over a decade late. The damage had been done, the carefree childhood yanked away when I was just six. Mrs. Withers School for Girls had been ruthless, but so had the elite of London once I'd graduated. I'd been well trained to shore up my defenses as men did going into battle, but in my twelve years at the school I learned not one thing about how to guard myself from two husbands.

  I never knew a man could be so warm or smell so good. Once we were away from town, Connor pulled me into him so that I was pressed against his hard chest and he kissed me. Again and again. His lips raked and nipped, then his tongue darted out to lick the slight sting away. He stopped for a minute or two, placing his chin on top of my head before kissing my ear and then down my neck.

  It was as if he couldn't stop and it seemed I was too weak to resist. I couldn't push him away, for I would fall off his lap, but surprisingly, I didn't want to. How did all of my training, all of the punishments all be forgotten with a man's mouth upon mine? What was happening to me? If this was how I felt from kissing alone, I didn't think I was strong enough to endure our wedding night. While I'd been told at school to close my eyes and think of England as my husband took his liberties, it was the view of the grassy prairie with the jagged mountain peaks off in the distance that reminded me I was no longer in England.

  Back at the ranch, it was Connor who carried me over the threshold, however unlike last time, he didn't put me down in the entry. Instead, he carried me through the main part of the house, down a long hallway and into a bedroom. I saw over his shoulder that Dash followed, closing the door behind us. Only then did he lower me to my feet.

  I glanced at the bed and swallowed. This was the moment I'd heard about in very euphemistic terms, but I did have a vague understanding. There was a class on comportment every year, but the final semester at school, the discussion was different. We didn't need to walk with books on our heads or practice sitting so that our ankles were crossed, our spines straight and hands folded in our laps. We'd had that drilled into us for years and years.

  This class had been on how to comport myself in front of my future husband. I thought back on what I'd learned, on Mrs. Withers' words and what I had to do.

  The bed was quite big, large enough for either man to be comfortable. The room was sparsely, but well furnished. The bed was a four-poster with a dark quilt upon it. In the corner was a trunk with two books upon it, and an unlit lantern. At the open window, white curtains billowed from the soft breeze. For October, it was a warm day, but inside, in this room, it was as if there was no air at all. Both men within made the space seem small, and the bed the focus.

  I remembered the teachings and what my duty was; I had two men waiting on me. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the pin from my hat and removed it, placing it on the trunk. I walked over to the bed, crawled up onto it as ladylike as I could and positioned myself in the middle. Laying back, I settled my dress back down over my ankles.

  I glanced up at the men who were watching me. They said nothing, did nothing and my anxiousness grew. I knew they'd do something with my womanhood, they'd put a part of themselves within me, so I slowly spread my feet apart, bent my knees and once again smoothed down my dress. Shutting my eyes, I took another deep breath and said, "I'm ready."

  There was silence in the room. I couldn't even hear the men breathe. Did they not want me after all? Opening one eye, I peeked up at them. Both men were looking down at me with open mouths and eyebrows raised.

  "Ready for what, sweetheart? A nap?" Dash asked.

  I came up onto my elbows. "For...for sexual congress. I was told you would climb on top of me and rut and it would hurt but I was to—"

  "Think of England?" Dash shook his head slowly, and then glanced at Connor.

  "Well...yes."

  Connor moved to sit at the foot of the bed while Dash crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  "Who told you that?" Connor asked.

  Oh dear. I'd done something wrong. Licking my lips, I answered, "Mrs. Dithers in our Comportment class."


  "Do you think this woman, Mrs. Dithers, ever had...sexual congress before?"

  My mouth fell open at the ridiculous question, but it gave me pause. Was Mrs. Dithers actually a Mrs.? I thought of the woman, well into her sixties, with her gray hair and sour expression. I doubted there was a more severe or dour woman who ever lived. "I can not imagine such a thing." If the headmistress found out I was married to two men...no, if she even got a glimpse of these two handsome men, she'd have a fit of apoplexy.

  "Then we will be yer teachers. Forget whatever this woman told ye," Connor told me.

  "All of it," Dash added. "We will correct every strange notion ye have, one at a time. Being married to two men doesna make ye a loose woman. Being married doesna mean ye have a duty to us with yer body. Tis nae a duty, lass, tis want. Need."

  "First of all, you're nae going to think of bloody England. In fact, if you're thinking at all that means we're doing it wrong," Connor said. "Secondly, you're nae just going to lay there either."

  Before I had a chance to question him, Dash scooped me up into his arms and carried me from the room, Connor holding the door open for us.

  "Where are we going? You don't want to have marital relations?" The walls of the hallway passed in a blur.

  "Lesson number one. It is nae marital relations or sexual congress or intercourse or whatever scientific term used to describe fumbling beneath the sheets."

  "In the dark," Dash added, lowering me to my feet, turning me to face him, then sitting down in a comfortable chair beside a cold fireplace. His hand hooked about my waist so I stood between his parted knees. "It's fucking," he said, the word so stark and blunt as to make me blush. I looked away, to the cold fireplace that soon enough, would have a fire to cut the fall chill. I'd never heard the word before, but I knew it was unseemly and carnal. "Say it."

  I shook my head and refused to look at him. "I can't."

  I heard Connor come up behind me, felt the heat of him against my back, but he did not touch me. When his warm breath fanned my ear, I startled. "Can't or won't?"

  I felt a pin loosen in my hair and I brought my hand up to it, but came upon Connor's hand. I pulled my hand away as if burned, but he did one pin, then another, then another, until my hair hung straight and long down my back.

  "Won't." Both of them remained quiet and I tried not to squirm. I knew their eyes were upon me and I was the sole focus of both their attentions. This was worse than any time I was sent to the headmistresses’ office. Worse that when my father stared me down and told me I was to marry his friend—his very old friend. I'd graduated and left Mrs. Withers behind and my father and my former intended was an ocean away. Connor and Dash were not going anywhere, ever. "I am well past the age of boarding school, but refraining from inappropriate language has been well learned."

  "Boarding school?" Connor asked, his voice foreboding. "I've heard stories of English boarding schools. Some in Scotland are nay better. When you say well learned, you mean beaten."

  "Beaten?" My heart fluttered against my chest and I wondered if they could see it. "If you mean by rulers, then yes."

  "What else?" Dash asked, and I saw a twitch in his jaw. "A switch?"

  I stared intently at the fireplace rock.

  "A cane?"

  I cleared my throat, shrugged with a feigned nonchalance. "Something like that."

  "Something like what, sweetheart?" Connor's hands settled on my shoulders and I flinched, but they did not move. They were warm and gentle and felt somewhat reassuring. "Tell us. I wish to know what ye endured, nae false generalizations so ye are nae seeming to be complaining."

  "How did you...?" I bit off the remainder of my question.

  "We are from Scotland, sweetheart. We know how a woman of yer ilk was raised to behave."

  She sighed. "Very well. Everything you said, plus missing a meal or being left in a closet."

  I believe I heard Connor growl.

  "Look at me, Rebecca," Dash said. With his voice almost a plea, I had to look at him, to look in his dark eyes. "How old were you when you were sent away?"

  "Six," I replied honestly.

  Connor bit back an oath; I'd heard Cecil do the same when he was angry.

  "And Montgomery, your brother? Where was he at this time?" Dash asked, his voice dark.

  I licked my lips, worried that tone was directed at me. "When I was six? The army. I believe he was stationed somewhere overseas with you." Most likely in this country of Mohamir they all spoke so sincerely about. "He was much older than me; my mother's child from his first marriage."

  "Your mother?" Dash asked.

  "She died birthing me."

  "Your father?" Dash's fair eyebrow went up at the question.

  "He is well, the last time I saw him at least. Cecil heard of my father's plan to marry me to the widower Reginald Thompson-Trewes, Third Earl of Crawford. His only heir drowned at the age of thirty-four and he needed another. Somehow Cecil caught wind of this mismatched arrangement and retrieved me from London. I did not complain."

  "I swear, Rebecca Montgomery McPherson MacDonald, that I willna raise my hand to you in anger. I will nae touch ye in any way that brings ye harm. Only pleasure." Dash lifted his hand to my cheek and with his thumb, brushed my cheek and pulled me down toward him and kissed me. It was soft and gentle and without any tongue, for which I was surprised and oddly disappointed. He released me and turned me toward Connor.

  "No one will raise a hand or a switch or a ruler or a cane to ye again," Connor growled. "Tis our job to protect ye and take away yer problems. But we will do things with ye that may go against what ye've been taught, nay because they are bad, but because they are good." His thumbs, too, stroked over me, but his were making half moon strokes at the base of my neck. "Like saying the word fucking. Tis nothing wrong with that word, for ye will only find pleasure it with us, and we're going to be doing it often."

  Often? Wasn't it just at night, in bed? "I'll...I'll try," I shared.

  "Dinna worry, we have our own way of training ye."

  I didn't know what he meant by that, but I doubted it involved a classroom and was reassured it did not include corporal punishment.

  Dash smiled and the hard angles the conversation brought about faded. "I wager ye'll be begging us to fuck ye soon enough. Know this, ye will have to say the words, sweetheart."

  I did not consider this a problem, as I doubted I would ever beg to be...to be taken.

  "When we fuck, we will be naked. We will do it in broad daylight and often nae in a bed," Dash commented as his hands came up to the tiny buttons at my neck. "That is why we are here in the parlor for yer first time, to show ye we dinna need a bed."

  I tried to step back, but I bumped into the solid wall of muscle. Connor.

  "What...what are you doing?" I asked, stopping the motion of Dash's hands with my own.

  "Getting ye naked."

  "But...but I've never been naked with a man before."

  "I bloody hope not," Connor growled from behind me.

  I felt my heartbeat race again. The idea of being naked and exposed had me panicking. "Can't you...can't you do what you're going to do with me in my dress, at least until it's dark?"

  Dash shook his head slowly. "Nay, lass. Ye are so lovely we wish to see all of ye."

  I swallowed. "I'm...I'm afraid."

  "Ah lass," Connor whispered in my ear. "I'm proud of ye for telling us yer feelings."

  "Do ye wish for us to disrobe first?" Dash asked.

  My eyes widened. "You're going to be naked, too? You want to show me your bodies?" Heat flooded through me, but the idea didn't settle my nerves.

  "Aye, we are going to be naked, lass, and nay, we were nae taught to be modest with our bride."

  I felt Connor step back; the heat from his body was gone. Dash moved his hands from my collar to the belt at his waist. He undid it with deft fingers and opened the placket of his pants. I stepped back, not prepared for his bold and immodest action. Shifting his hips,
he reached into the opening of his pants and he pulled out his...oh dear Lord!

  It was long and thick and a ruddy red color. Dash held it securely within his fist at the base and the top of it was wide like a crown and with a small hole in the center, it seeped clear fluid. His fist slid up the length and his thumb extended up and over the top to wipe the liquid away. It was unbelievably large and it was supposed to go inside of me? I retreated another step as I darted a glance up to Dash's eyes. His lids were lowered halfway and he was watching me in a way that had me licking my lips. He wasn't naked, but he might as well have been.

  Connor's actions had my head turning toward him. Instead of undoing his pants, he'd unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, all the while his eyes were on mine and he winked. Winked! He was so relaxed and at ease with what we were doing that he winked as he removed his clothes, piece by piece. His shoulders were broad and curved with muscle. His chest had dark hair on it. While my nipples were plump and full, his were dusky-colored, flat disks. His stomach was flat and well defined with a narrow waist. The hair merged into a V at his navel and then into a line that went into the top of his pants. There I could clearly see a bulge pressing against the front placket.

  Glancing at Dash's...member then back, I could only assume Connor was as equally large or possibly larger. Connor grinned wickedly and didn't hesitate to toe off one boot, then another before undoing his belt, the front of his pants and lowering them to the floor. He stepped out of them, and then stripped off his socks to stand tall once again. He was completely naked—and he looked like Michelangelo’s David I'd seen in books.

  I couldn't help the quick intake of breath at the sight of him.

  "These are cocks, sweetheart," Dash said as I kept my eyes transfixed on Connor. His hand grasped his...cock now as well and they were stroking them. Did Connor's just get larger?

  "They are...," I cleared my throat. "They are quite large."

  Connor's grin widened. "Your turn, lass."

  I was given a reprieve by a knock on the door. Connor turned to answer it, clearly unconcerned he was naked. "What are you doing?" I whispered, my sense of decorum stronger than my ingrained behavior to not question and dashed to the door and leaned against it, preventing him from opening it.