Their Blushing Bride (Bridgewater Brides)

by Celeste Jones

  Their Blushing Bride

  A Bridgewater Brides Novel

  Celeste Jones

  Copyright © 2020 by Celeste Joes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover design: Bridger Media

  Cover graphic: Period Images; Deposit Photos: klippel1

  Welcome to Bridgewater, where one cowboy is never enough! Their Blushing Bride is published as part of the Bridgewater Brides World, which includes books by numerous authors inspired by Vanessa Vale’s USA Today bestselling series. This is a steamy standalone read. Enjoy!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Bridgewater Brides World

  About Celeste Jones

  1

  RYE

  * * *

  I stepped out of the livery and stretched my legs, eager for a drink and a meal before we got on with things, though I was sure Keane and I were on a fool’s errand.

  A week in the city of Butte to find a bride. A woman suitable for both of us and agreeable to the type of marriage to which we were committed. A Bridgewater bride.

  To share. Between us. Share our life on the ranch at Bridgewater with others of the same mindset. A woman to be cherished and honored by her husbands.

  And fucked thoroughly. Often.

  A Bridgewater bride was a satisfied woman, in all ways.

  Now, we simply needed to find her. The right combination of sweet and sensual, bright and eager to learn our ways, and with enough grit and backbone to thrive on a ranch with two horny husbands.

  No small task, but the reward for the right woman would be years of happiness, safety, and security. She would want for nothing.

  Bridgewater wasn’t for the fainthearted. Of course, she would be protected and worshipped, but winter in the Montana mountains was harsh. We didn’t have all the trappings of a city like Butte, either.

  But, we had a community. Each working our share. Keane and I, both experienced horsemen, oversaw the stables and tended to the breeding stock. Demand for Bridgewater horses increased each year. We were busy and proud of our work. But, we were missing one thing. A woman. A wife.

  "What a wonderful day." Keane sidled up to me, face alight with excitement. He annoyed the hell out of me with his enthusiasm and exuberance, and yet, I could think of no man I trusted more. No other man with whom I would even consider sharing a bride.

  I nodded in response. "Let’s get settled at the hotel. Plus, I could use a drink."

  Keane rolled his eyes. "The saloon next door will be open for hours. Let’s head into the park. It’s a fine afternoon, and I’m sure all the local ladies will be out."

  "Oh good. We’ll be able to sit on a bench and simply pick the one we like best," I said. "As if choosing a sweet from the spread at a church picnic."

  He gave me a look. "Sarcasm will not win us a bride. Now, come on." He slipped the livery boy some money and instructed him to deliver our bags to the Imperial Hotel across the street before the two of us entered the park.

  Much as I hated to admit it, Keane’s idea was a sound one. Not that I thought we’d stroll into the park, Cupid’s arrow would strike, and we’d stroll out with a woman on our arms, but after most of a day spent in the saddle, it felt good to move.

  "Ah, smell the fresh spring air," Keane said, inhaling deep and pounding his chest to make a point. And also to piss me off. When I gave him a sideways glance, he grinned and punched my arm. "Come on, Rye. We’ve got a whole week to enjoy the city and find love. Could you loosen your stiff upper lip and try to have some fun?"

  I let out an exasperated breath as we made our way through the well-kept park in the center of Butte. It was a busy place, not surprising on a warm afternoon.

  Keane was right, as much as I hated to admit it. "I’m sorry," I replied. "I am simply skeptical we’ll be able to find a bride with as much ease as you seem to think we will."

  "Oh ye of little faith," he said.

  At that moment, a wide-brimmed ladies’ hat came tumbling along the path and landed at our feet. I bent down to retrieve it, and when I stood my gaze met that of the most extraordinary woman I had ever seen. Her doe-like eyes peered clearly into mine, and my breath caught in my throat. Her pink lips parted, and the tip of her tongue stroked across her bottom lip.

  Oh hell. That tongue. In an instant I envisioned her mouth filled with my cock, that shy tongue licking my hardness with fervor. I shifted slightly to accommodate the bulge forming in my crotch.

  Her cheeks were flushed from chasing the hat, or perhaps she was not immune to me, either. Wisps of her fawn-colored hair had come loose to frame her delicate face.

  For a breathtaking moment, the three of us simply stared at each other.

  Finally, she spoke. "Thank you for rescuing my hat." She reached out a dainty hand, expecting me to return the hat to her, but I could not move. Her voice captivated me. The sight of her, like an enchanted sprite appearing in the morning mist. A jolt shot through my body, unlike anything I had ever experienced in my entire thirty-two years. Perhaps Keane had been right all along. Fuck me.

  "We are happy to be of service," Keane finally managed to say, tugging the lady’s hat from my grip. Though I was reluctant to part with it, I relented. Her lips turned up in a small smile, perhaps some humor at my expense, since I continued to stand mute. Silenced by her grace and beauty. The color in her cheeks continued, and her eyes were bright from exercise. An image of her, eyes shining and cheeks flushed after a thorough fucking came to my mind. My cock stiffened.

  Taking the hat from Keane and placing it on her head, she tucked the stray hairs in. "Well," she said, her gaze lingering on each of us for a moment, "I thank you again, gentlemen."

  "Please," I removed my hat and used it to cover the bulge in my pants, "allow us to introduce ourselves, I am Rye, and this is Keane."

  She nodded to each of us. "I am pleased to meet you both. My name is Lily. Lily Snow." She turned to leave. "I really must be going." She took a couple of steps.

  "Wait," Keane called after her, and she swung back to us. "May we…"

  But before Keane could finish his question, two children ran to her. A boy and a girl. Lily’s face lit up when she saw them, and they wrapped their arms around her legs, one on each side. She hugged and kissed them so tenderly, I was jealous.

  "We found you!" the boy exclaimed.

  Lily laughed and tousled his hair. "Good for you. I have retrieved my hat. Let us be on our way home." She glanced up at us—was that a hint of reluctance in her gaze? "Thank you again, gentlemen."

  And she walked away.

  Keane and I stood there, stunned. She was right there, the woman we both wanted. I knew it. Keane knew it. I knew he knew it.

  Why the hell didn’t she know it?<
br />
  My heart clutched in my chest, and I gaped, watching her walk away, a child on either side of her, as though she’d barely noticed us.

  I stared after her. The brim of her hat tilted a bit in the breeze, and I prayed it would blow off again, and I’d be able to retrieve it and have one more conversation with her.

  But the hat stayed in place, and she continued sashaying out of our lives. I watched the sway of her hips as she walked. Her shapely bottom filled her skirt and I yearned to grasp it between my palms, squeeze and spank it. Do all sorts of depraved things to it and listen to her squeal with ecstasy as I did so.

  Yes, she had children, but what did I care? Her affection for them only made her more appealing. I imagined her suckling our children, the many Keane and I would make with her, filling her with our seed over and over until we had to add on an additional story to our cabin at Bridgewater.

  "We should follow her," Keane said, and I nodded, taking a step toward her. But before we took more than a couple of steps, a well-dressed man approached her, and the children ran to him.

  Though they did not hug him the way they had hugged Lily, he took the boy and girl each firmly by the wrist, and the four of them exited the park. Lily walked a few paces behind, her head slightly bowed. The spark that had been so evident in her face had vanished, replaced with something I couldn’t quite identify. Sadness? Fear? Resignation?

  If she was mine—ours—I’d know every subtle change in her expression. Each nuance of her lovely face. It would be my mission to assure her safety and happiness. To discern her thoughts and moods before she did.

  Anger welled in me at the possibility she was mistreated. How could any man not cherish her, honor her as the priceless treasure she was? The damn fool.

  "Something's not right," I said, staring after them. "Why the hell is she walking behind them like a second-class citizen? And look at her face. She’s got her head down, like she hopes he doesn’t notice her."

  How could any man not pay attention to her?

  My stomach knotted. It was bad enough she couldn’t be ours, and if I thought she was happy in her current situation, I’d set my disappointment aside. But that clearly was not the case. A woman deserved constant pleasure, in bed and out. This one was neglected by her husband on all fronts, it seemed. It was wrong. Fucking wrong.

  As they neared the exit to the park, the husband turned and spoke to her. She gave him a wan smile. One that didn’t reach her soulful eyes. If she were my wife, I’d ensure a smile was constantly upon her lips, well satisfied from having her pussy eaten before she rose every morning. My mouth watered at the very idea. She’d start each day moaning with climax after climax. Greeting the rising sun with her cries of pleasure.

  And every night Keane and I would fuck her senseless, her sweet body shared between us, her every need satisfied beyond measure.

  But she didn’t belong to us. I’d been wrong. There was a woman in Butte for us. It seemed, though, she belonged to another.

  LILY

  * * *

  Once my charges, Michael and Hannah, had been put to bed, I was called before my employer, Mr. Richard Garner, and his wife. I had never heard her first name spoken aloud, even by her husband.

  "You wish to see me, sir?" We were in the library where he perched behind his desk with a cigar and brandy after dinner. Mrs. Garner kept her gaze focused on a bit of needlework in her lap.

  "Who were those men you spoke to in the park? What did they want? What did you say to them?" The lewd implication of his words was so obvious even his milquetoast wife looked up and peered at me with beady, judgmental eyes.

  "I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Garner," I lied. Of course I knew who he was talking about. I'd been unable to think of anything else since the encounter with Rye and Keane, a pair of gentlemen who had, in a matter of moments, awakened something in me I had not known existed. Awareness. Womanliness. Rye had close-cropped hair while Keane had long, dark tresses, held back in a leather tie. I’d never seen a gentleman with hair like that. Wild and rebellious, as I suspected Keane to be.

  Rye’s eyes were the color of the sky on a clear spring morning and Keane’s were as dark as the sky at midnight. Their gazes looked not just at me, but through me. I felt… flutters. Need. Attraction. It was strange and heady but coming from two brawny men, not one, was confusing at best. Lurid, too.

  But, I would not allow Mr. Garner to sully that wondrous encounter with his tawdry insinuations.

  "Don't lie to me, girl." He sat up straight in his chair and glared at me. "I cannot have a liar as governess to my children. What sort of influence would that be on their characters?"

  "I apologize that I do not recall what it is you are referencing," I replied. "It must not have had much of an impact on me. So many things happen in the park, especially when the children are exploring. They are both so bright and curious. I am sure they get that from you, Mr. Garner."

  He puffed up with pride at that bit of false flattery. "Yes, they must. Did you know my forefathers were among the first explorers to settle in this city?"

  "Is that so?" I asked, as though this was completely new information to me. A tinge of guilt bothered me briefly. I did not care for deceit or manipulation, but I needed to keep my job.

  Thereupon, Mr. Garner set about regaling me with the often-told tale of his explorer ancestors. As far as I could tell, the officious Mr. Garner had not inherited one trait of his forebears, though he made ample use of the fortune they had amassed.

  Finally, I was able to extricate myself from their presence and made my way to my bedroom, the one small slice of personal space I was permitted in the massive Garner estate.

  Once I had donned my nightgown and settled beneath the blankets of my bed, I indulged my imagination and visited the scene from the park over again in my mind.

  I had been frustrated when the wind carried my hat away, but little did I know it would lead me to meet Rye and Keane. Men so handsome and virile, I knew I would never forget those few fleeting moments we shared.

  My hat had landed at their feet as though divinely directed. It would be nice to think miracles happened, but I knew enough of the world to realize such a belief was akin to the fairy stories I read to the children before bed.

  I closed my eyes and gave myself over to reliving the entire encounter. Rye's arresting blue eyes, the deep timbre of his voice. I noticed his hands as they held my hat. So large they spanned the entire brim. Clean, but work roughened. I wondered how they would feel touching me. Stroking my hair or caressing the curve of my jaw as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips would be warm and firm, teasing and coaxing me to respond, which I would do with pleasure. I'd never been kissed by a man, but I had no trouble imagining what it would be like, with Rye's broad arms around me as his mouth moved over mine. I'd lean into him and rest my palms against his firm chest, feel his heart beating beneath my fingers.

  As the kiss ended, he’d pass me over to Keane, who’d repeat the same actions, though his kiss was different, still heady and arousing, but he cupped my nape with his palm and held me to him with light pressure, his other hand gliding down to rest upon my hip.

  My eyes blinked open, and I sat bolt upright in bed. How could I desire both of them? Surely, something was wrong with me. What kind of woman felt such lust for one man, a virtual stranger no less, let alone two of them?

  This was foolish. I plumped my pillow and rolled onto my side. I was nothing but a simple governess who needed employment and a roof over her head. I could ill afford to engage in wanton fantasies.

  I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. Still, the images in my mind would not let me go. I huffed out a breath and made a decision. My mind belonged to me, and no one else could tell me what to think.

  For one rebellious night, just this single time, I would allow myself to fully give in to my base instincts. What harm could come from that? I would get it out of my system and, when the sun came up, I would think of them no mor
e.

  In my mind, I conjured them both, their rugged faces smiling at me. Rye’s eyes darkening to a deep blue as his desire for me grew. In my fantasy, he knelt next to my bed and drew back the linens, his gaze roaming my body before his mouth lowered to cover mine. I clung to him as his lips opened mine and the kiss deepened.

  The fantasy continued, and Keane made his way to the foot of the bed. His lush dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, and my fingers ached to bury themselves deep in the thick tresses. His rough palm slid up the length of my thigh until it reached the apex, his finger brushing across the slit of my womanhood and delving between the wet folds there.

  As I imagined their touch upon me, I mimicked what I envisioned them doing. With one hand I squeezed my breast, the way I imagined Rye doing it. My nipple hardened and ached for more. I reached beneath my nightgown and stroked the wetness between my thighs. That shameful place I’d been told never to touch, but tonight was for me, and I threw all expectations and rules out the window, my fingers eagerly exploring my sex, the swollen lips of my nether region, and discovering a hard nubbin of nerves that sent a jolt of pleasure through me when I touched it.

  My breath came hard and fast as I worked at that nub, imagining myself loved by two men, Rye and Keane, at the same time. Their hands and mouths possessing me in every way.

  Tightness wound deep in my belly, and the hard nub in my wet core throbbed. With one final stroke, I exploded with pleasure, my cries echoing around my small room. Overcome with bliss, I lay there for a moment enjoying the lethargy.

  I opened my eyes.