Hunt, Sofia - The First Bride [Brides of Bachelor Bay 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Sofia Hunt

  “The inn is crowded and in need of refurbishing. The rooms are primitive and lack even the most basic necessities.” Lizzie stiffened her spine.

  Logan threw back his head and laughed. Lizzie didn’t join in, nor did his brother, who’d remained silent up to this point.

  “Logan, we should hear Miss Prescott out.”

  Lizzie smiled gratefully at Gage. He smiled back, a pleasant smile, which sent her stomach fluttering in response and further moistening that forbidden area between her legs. Her reactions dismayed her, a lady did not partake in such shameless responses to one man, let alone two.

  “I don’t have time for this.” Logan stood, crammed his hat on his head, snatched his wet coat and strode to the door. “Take care of her, Gage. You’re the money man. Just don’t make any promises we can’t keep or afford.”

  Logan strode from the room. The front door slammed and rattled the windowpanes.

  Lizzie sat back and smiled at Gage, a much more amenable character than his insufferable brother. Gage smiled back but quickly looked away.

  “Now, Mr. Gallagher. Let’s go over my list.”

  * * * *

  Gage sat close to Miss Prescott on the worn settee in the parlor of the Cedar Plank Inn. He didn’t have much experience with women. His talents lay in finances. He’d developed quite an aptitude for managing the brothers’ many holdings. Although the brothers were land-rich, their meager expendable income challenged his abilities. They’d taken their available cash down to nothing to finance the brides’ passages. Very little remained until they received their next lumber payments from various sources.

  The brides’ lengthy list of complaints swam before his eyes as he breathed in Miss Prescott’s lavender scent. While the other men remarked about Miss Prescott’s sisters and Constance Kendall, to name a few, he preferred Miss Prescott, though he couldn’t articulate why. Perhaps her intelligence and ability to stand up to his formidable older brother attracted him. Not too many men had the guts to cross Logan, let alone a woman. Only his brothers and he knew the real Logan under that tough timberman. A loyal friend and selfless brother, Logan sacrificed his own needs for those of his siblings and his business.

  Miss Prescott cleared her throat and drew him back to the matter at hand. Sitting up straight, Gage turned slightly and his knee bumped hers. His face heated up, and he scooted away from her enticing body. Gathering his composure, he prayed she didn’t notice his discomfort or the damning bulge in his trousers.

  “Miss Prescott, I’d like to take this list and examine it more closely. I’ll give you a response within a day or two. Some of these items are easily rectified, but others are not possible at this time. It’s our express intent to do everything within our means.”

  “And exactly what are your means?” She regarded him with knowing eyes. He squirmed under her direct stare.

  “Excuse me?” He didn’t understand or want to understand her question.

  “We believed your family to be wealthy. The state of your operations says otherwise.”

  “We are not wealthy, nor have we misled the brides.”

  She snorted again, a very unladylike snort. He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it. Her eyes widened then her mouth quirked with amusement. His groin tightened almost painfully. Damn, but he wanted her. A most unexpected reaction. One he usually managed to suppress.

  Her scent floated in the air and made his cock harder than an axe handle. He shifted in his chair and placed his hands in his lap to hide his erection. She leaned forward to point out a few items on the list. Her arm brushed his arm. He almost jumped out of his skin. The contact reverberated from his head to his toes, leaving him almost light-headed with lust. And something else.

  Always practical and unflappable, Gage was behaving like a man falling in love.

  * * * *

  Gage Gallagher was exactly the type of man Lizzie would marry were she ever daft enough in the head to consider marriage again. Gage’s kind, blue eyes complemented his quiet, calm temperament. He didn’t exude raw male power like Logan, yet underneath his shy exterior she sensed steel, the kind that would bend but not break. The kind a woman could bet her knickers on. He’d be there to defend his woman’s honor and soothe her aches.

  Yes, Gage would suit her well if she were on the market and if she were the type of woman who attracted a man like him.

  Of course, she wasn’t. Couldn’t be. Ever.

  Lizzie raised her head at the shuffle of feet near the parlor door. Hattie, the inn owner, moved across the room with a sensuality Lizzie found unusual in one so large. Her brassy red hair clashed with her purple dress. Her large breasts spilled over the top of the dress. She settled her ample hips into a chair and poured a cup of tea.

  “A very attractive man in a quiet, bookish way, but then, you know what they say about quiet men.” Hattie winked at Lizzie.

  Lizzie didn’t have a clue what they said about quiet men but held her tongue. Hattie didn’t mince words when discussing even the most inappropriate events or acts.

  “He’s attracted to you.”

  “I am sure you’re mistaken.” Men were not attracted to her.

  Hattie laughed. “Honey, I’m never mistaken about animal attraction. I used to make a profession of it.”

  Lizzie gasped and drew back, shocked at the forthrightness of this woman.

  Hattie took no offense and laughed all the more. “Relax. I’m a respectable businesswoman now. My dealings are entirely legal.”

  “We shouldn’t be discussing such matters.” Lizzie swallowed, uncertain what might be considered legal in this rugged, lawless land.

  “Propriety doesn’t carry any weight here like it does on the East Coast.”

  From what she’d seen of Hattie’s behavior, propriety definitely didn’t carry any weight with the rotund innkeeper. The woman played poker with the men in the saloon down the street. She invited men’s advances and entertained them in the parlor in the most scandalous manner. Rumors abounded that she even took a few men to her private rooms.

  The other women avoided her as if Hattie’s reputation might sully their own. While she often shocked Lizzie with her language and words, Lizzie admired Hattie’s ability to do as she pleased and disregard petty gossip.

  Changing the subject, Hattie reached over and fingered Lizzie’s hair. Lizzie held her breath.

  “You have beautiful hair. If only I could get my hair that color. You should wear it down more often or in a more flattering manner. I’ll style it for the next dance.”

  “Oh, no, please, don’t go to the bother.”

  “No bother. It’s settled, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Lizzie nodded. There was no arguing with Hattie. Perhaps, she’d fake an illness or headache.

  She’d rather spend an evening with the disagreeable Logan Gallagher than allow Hattie to touch her hair.

  * * * *

  Logan said grace and passed around the roast. Each brother filled his plate and dug in, every one of them grateful for a rare Sunday off. A couple weeks had passed since he and Gage met with Lizzie. Since then the four brothers and several of their lumberjacks spent every spare moment working on the improvement list from the brides. At times, Logan considered sending the whole batch of them back to Boston and civilization as he found some of their demands to be ridiculous luxuries. Regardless, he indulged the women because happy women made for happy lumberjacks. The gigantic proportions of the native timber required a rare breed of man to fall the mighty trees. The Gallaghers’ loggers were some of the best in the Pacific Northwest and the envy of all the other logging companies. Logan did everything within his power to satisfy his men, including importing the brides from Boston.

  With his cousins breathing down his neck, waiting for any opportunity to steal his best men and ruin his business, he couldn’t afford to send the ladies packing. Even though he fantasized at times about a simpler life before they’d set foot on the Port Steele docks.

 
“I might wish to court Miss Prescott.” Gage announced. His three brothers stopped in mid-chew and regarded him with curious eyes. Logan put down his fork and waited.

  “Which Miss Prescott? I’ve set my sights on Amelia.” Andrew, the charmer, staked his claim.

  “Amelia is mine,” argued Noah, the youngest and most irresponsible brother.

  “I’m speaking of Lizzie.” Gage looked down at his plate, his ears suspiciously red.

  Logan stared at his brother. Not Lizzie? She was so—he swallowed—so Gage’s type. A thin thread of discomfort wrapped around his gut. He shifted in his chair and concentrated on cutting another bite of beef.

  “Lizzie?” The younger brothers’ voices rang out in unison and disbelief.

  Intending to stay out of it for reasons he couldn’t define, Logan’s mouth opened of its own accord. “Olivia is more your type. She’s quite intellectual.” Three pairs of eyes turned to study him. Logan gulped down his whiskey and grabbed the bottle to pour another. Inside, he seethed with uncharacteristic jealousy.

  Shoulders tense and jaw rigid, Gage scrutinized his brother. “Lizzie interests me. She is intelligent, genuine, and I find her attractive.”

  “Connie says she’s a shrew.” Noah chuckled.

  “Watch your mouth.” Logan rose to his feet, his voice louder than planned. The startled expressions on his brothers’ faces sat him right back down. “That’s no way to speak about a lady.”

  “Yes besides, Connie’s the shrew.” Andrew grinned and filled his plate with a second helping.

  “Enough. Both of you.” Logan slammed his fist on the table. Andrew and Noah laughed, not the least bit intimidated. Gage continued to watch him, as if dissecting his words and expression.

  “I’m going to ask Lizzie for permission to escort her to the dance next weekend.” Again, Gage’s eyes didn’t stray from Logan’s face.

  “I’m sure she’ll be delighted.” Logan wasn’t delighted, not in the least, and he feared it showed on his face. Damned if he knew why it mattered to him. Obviously, he’d developed a distant interest in the woman himself. Not a surprise, since it’d been months since he’d been with a woman, and he preferred his women tall and substantial as opposed to inconsequential pieces of fluff. On the other hand, he preferred his women gentle and agreeable with no opinions of their own. Lizzie didn’t possess these characteristics.

  A slow, knowing smile crept across Noah’s face. He elbowed Gage in the ribs and pointed at Logan. “Gage, you might have competition.” Noah and Andrew wallowed laughter.

  “I am hardly in the market for any of the ladies.” Logan denied any interest in Lizzie. “I’ll be the last to marry, if I ever marry.”

  “Good. Then there’s no problem with me courting her.”

  “None in the least.” Logan forced a smile he didn’t feel and focused his frustration on the steak on his plate. The steak didn’t stand a chance.

  * * * *

  Miles Petty sat in the small parlor on the settee across from Lizzie. Next to him, local businessman and Port Steele’s namesake, Adam Steele, sipped his coffee. Miles was of medium build with cold, gray eyes and dirty blond hair. He was soft around the middle, a testament to his lack of physical activity. Unlike the Gallaghers, it appeared he didn’t work in the woods anymore.

  Adam Steele presented a different picture, dressed in his expensive suit. His hands appeared as soft as a baby’s bottom, no calluses. He portrayed an air of refined elegance, but Lizzie sensed his cultured exterior concealed a rough interior. She didn’t trust either man.

  According to Lucy Riley, the biggest gossip of the brides, Adam played both sides against each other to get the best deal for his own businesses, a shipping company on the wharf, a loggers supply company, and various smaller businesses. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself. He had that in common with Miles Petty.

  “Constance is interested in our offer.” Adam’s smooth voice attempted to pacify. Instead it ruffled her feathers.

  “Constance doesn’t speak for all the brides, nor does she have the right to make decisions for the rest of us.”

  Miles tensed and glared at her. Adam hurried to calm them both down. “We understand, Miss Prescott, which is why we’re here.”

  “I’d rather you not be here.”

  “Your opinion is of the utmost importance to us,” Adam insisted.

  “Always the politician,” Lizzie pointed out.

  “I am the mayor, after all.”

  Despite Adam’s friendly manner, Lizzie felt like she’d been slimed. She almost liked dealing with Miles better. At least she knew where she stood with him. She didn’t have a clue with Adam. “We’re obligated to the Gallaghers. Every one of us signed contracts with them.”

  “Contracts which will be null and void if they don’t live up to their side of the bargain,” Adam pointed out. As always, his Sioux manservant, Raven, hovered in the background, never saying a word. Lizzie was certain the Raven’s ever-watchful eyes never missed a thing.

  Miles smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t prevent us from talking to the brides.”

  “And you can’t barge in like the cock of the walk and lure away the brides. We have a commitment to the Gallaghers. Their money brought us here, not yours.”

  “If I can provide superior accommodations, I certainly can,” Miles shot back.

  “I’ve seen no proof of these superior accommodations.”

  “We’re working on them.”

  Adam, who’d been sitting back watching their exchange, stood and nodded to both of them. “I believe it’s time we move on, Miles. Let Miss Prescott consider our offer.”

  Miles stood. His malevolent gaze sent shivers down her spine.

  “You’ll be hearing from me.”

  “I won’t be looking forward to it,” Lizzie muttered.

  * * * *

  Lizzie shot awake and stared around the dark room. Breathing heavily, she squirmed and pressed her legs together. She attempted to clear her head and shut out the images from a most disturbing, yet erotic, dream, yet she couldn’t.

  Unbidden, her hand crept between her legs and touched the crotch of her under garments, wet from her arousing dream. She rested her palm on her mound and closed her eyes. The images came flooding back. Her thoughts brought her great shame, yet she couldn’t and wouldn’t control them. Her fantasies were likely going to be all she had to keep her warm at night. Surely, she could be excused for her over-active imagination.

  Her mind drifted back to the dream. Two men’s hands roamed her naked body, touching her in the most indecent places. One man yanked down her bodice and fondled one breast while kissing the other. She moaned and touched her own nipples, stroked them, pinched them. The other man slid his large, calloused hand down her thigh and pushed her legs apart.

  Lizzie slipped her hand under her underwear, across her belly, and between her legs. She hesitated at the slick opening for only a moment. Parting her pussy lips, she plunged a finger deep into her channel. Parting her legs wider, she adjusted the angle of her hips and pressed her finger yet deeper. Removing it, she added a second finger and thrust both of them inside the heat of her body. Her thumb sought her little nub of pleasure, and she worked her fingers in and out of her tight little hole. Her rhythm increased to a fever pitch, harder, faster, harder, faster, in a frenzy of movement until her hips lifted off the bed, and her body shuddered. She shoved her hand deep into her pussy and held it there, soaked in her juices. Her body begged for release. Rubbing the nub, she flew to the heavens, soared among the clouds, then crashed back to Earth.

  She was a bad girl, a very bad girl, who had an insatiable hunger she couldn’t satisfy. It was bad enough for a single girl to lust after one man, but two?

  Chapter 3

  Lizzie’s Journal, Wednesday, June 15, 1864

  Port Steele, Washington Territory

  The days have turned into weeks. Amelia, true to form, entertains one gentleman after ano
ther, afternoon and evenings. Many suitors vie for her attentions. They lavish her with gifts and compliments, and she blooms like the spring flowers in the meadow near Port Steele. Olivia is more reserved. She prefers her books and her painting. Logan procured a few boxes of books and has given Liv an area in the sawmill offices for a library of sorts. She is in heaven and spends her days sorting books and painting landscapes. Her paintings already adorn several businesses in this small town. I’m overseeing the needed renovations to the inn and surrounding areas. I see no sign of the accommodations Miles Petty promised. The other brides are busy with various pursuits, such as teaching, darning socks, and stitching rips in clothes for the lumberjacks. We are settling into our life here. I still live in dread our uncle will track us down and force us to return to Boston. I’ll protect my sisters at all costs.

  * * * *

  Lizzie stood on the porch and watched Patti Weber work in the garden adjoining the inn. Not part of the original group of brides, the reclusive woman joined them just as the ship set sail from Boston.

  Patti and Amelia became fast friends, a strange friendship at that, but Lizzie appreciated Patti’s loyalty to the youngest Prescott sister.

  Across the main street, a stranger leaned up against the mercantile porch railing. Lizzie recalled him disembarking from the last ship that came into port. He disconcerted her, as he seemed to be wherever she was, ever watchful of her and her sisters. Her skin prickled with little bumps whenever she caught sight of him, which was too often for her comfort.

  Surely, her paranoia regarding her uncle had caught up with her. She turned to Lucy, who made it her business to know everyone else’s business. Usually Lizzie avoided Lucy because of her close association with Constance and her loose tongue. Port Steele didn’t need a newspaper with Lucy around, though most of her information contained little facts and much fiction.