Their Blushing Bride (Bridgewater Brides)

by Celeste Jones

  And stared directly into the shocked face of Mrs. Richard Garner.

  2

  LILY

  * * *

  Another door slammed in my face. This time I had not even been able to get out my request to see the mistress of the house before the housekeeper looked me up and down and closed the door without a word.

  I caught a reflection of myself in a window by the entrance.

  I’d have slammed the door on me, too. Disheveled and no doubt pungent, I had barely slept since Mrs. Richard Garner’s untimely arrival in my bedroom two nights previous.

  I’d been as shocked to see her as she had been to find me indulging in, as she called it, the sin of self-abuse. She had recovered more quickly, however, and promptly ordered me out of her house and never to darken its door again.

  Shaken, I’d hurriedly tossed my few belongings into a bag and left. Her husband had joined her in leering at me from the doorway as I’d hurriedly dressed, putting a skirt and blouse on over my nightgown since the Garners seemed determined to give me no privacy.

  Stunned by my sudden change in circumstances, I had spent that night huddled in a corner of the park near the spot where I had encountered Keane and Rye. It seemed I had been drawn to that location and, though the tawdry thoughts and deeds that had led me to be in such a peculiar situation were due to them, I had no animosity for the two gentlemen. No, far from it. As I sat upon the ground and leaned against a tree, I thought again of both men.

  Which did I prefer? I honestly could not have said. Rye, with his serious manner and sincere gazes? Or, Keane with his ready smile and a twinkle in his eye?

  It seemed they were the perfect yin and yang, and I could not decide.

  I gave myself a mental shake. I needed to stop my foolish daydreams and consider my own survival.

  By the time the sun rose, I had a plan in place to find new employment. I would miss Michael and Hannah desperately, but that was water under the bridge. Their mother had made it perfectly clear I would never again be welcome in their home.

  But, based upon my sterling reputation in certain social circles, I had no doubt that by sundown I would have new employment.

  It turned out that gossip traveled at lightning speed and, by the time I’d arrived at the home of the Ruffing family, word had already reached the formerly cordial Mrs. Ruffing. She at least had the decency to gaze at me with a bit of sympathy while telling me she could not offer me any sort of employment.

  This, despite trying to lure me away from the Garners not two weeks prior.

  Such was the reach of the Garner family’s power.

  By the end of the second day, it was clear I’d find no respectable employment in Butte. I had a bit of money tucked away in the bottom of my carpetbag and decided it was best spent on travel to a new location as there was no future for me in Butte.

  A tiny part of me had hoped I’d encounter Keane and Rye again. I’ll admit to whipping my head about in an unladylike manner when I saw a silhouette from the corner of my eye that I would have sworn was Keane. Sadly, it was not.

  After my night in the park and no luck finding a job, I’d booked a room at a seedy hotel where I’d barely slept at all. Fear of vermin—animal and human—had made for a most unpleasant stay.

  Doing some mental calculations, I determined I could afford a room at the Hotel Imperial before taking the train the next day to Missoula. Surely I’d find employment soon and be able to replenish my savings, and so I engaged a room and eagerly anticipated a bath and a quiet final night in Butte.

  The only fly in the ointment had been seeing Timothy, Mr. Garner’s assistant—disgusting henchman, really—exiting the hotel dining room. Of course, he did not acknowledge me, nor I him, but even in my less-than-pristine state he’d recognized me. His foul countenance was impossible to miss, not to mention his uniquely unpleasant features, including a constantly sneering mouth, beady eyes, and a raised scar along his jawline.

  No matter, I told myself as I locked the door to my room. Mr. Garner had no sway over me, and neither did his vile assistant. I’d never see either of them again, and for that I was grateful.

  In short order I’d bathed and changed my clothes, feeling a hundred times better after I dressed in a clean blouse and skirt.

  I gazed out a window overlooking the park. Ironically, the location on the path where I’d met Keane and Rye was directly in my view. Again, the entire scene replayed in my mind. The last thing was Keane saying, "Wait. May we…" But he’d never finished his statement. I’d been desperate to turn around and continue the conversation, but once Mr. Garner joined the children and me, I dared not.

  What had Keane been about to ask? May we see you again? May we walk with you? May we take you away from here to a place where you’ll never have to be fearful again?

  Ha. I had let my imagination run much too far away with me.

  And why did I keep thinking of them as a pair? Certainly they were distinct in their own ways, yet, in my mind, they came as a set.

  I turned away from the window with a shake of my head. They were no more a part of my future than Michael and Hannah. And, come morning, I would be far from Butte, never to see any of them again.

  It was time to focus on the future, not the past.

  There was a knock on my door, and I startled. I paused and listened, and the knock came again. I made my way to the door. "Who is it?"

  "Room service."

  "I have not ordered any food." Panic built in me. I could not afford to pay for an extravagant meal.

  "Compliments of the hotel. Please open your door."

  I had no experience with such a fancy establishment. Perhaps this was customary. Besides, I was hungry.

  I opened the door, but instead of a liveried waiter, Mr. Richard Garner leered at me. Shocked at his presence, I involuntarily and foolishly took a step back. He pushed into the room and closed the door behind him.

  "What are you doing here, Mr. Garner?" I managed to say, though the lust in his eyes gave me a clear indication of what he had in mind.

  "I could hardly believe it when Timothy informed me he’d seen you here." His gaze roved over me, causing a pit of disgust to form in my stomach. "But, he was right." He took a step toward me, and I found myself backed against a wall.

  "P-please leave, Mr. Garner."

  "I thought we could talk about you returning to work for us." He removed his jacket and laid it on the back of a chair.

  "B-but, what about Mrs. Garner?" She had been quite clear in her opinion about me.

  "I run the house, not her." He stood inches from me, leering. His foul breath wafted to my nose, adding to my disgust at his presence. "I’m sure we can come to some agreeable terms." His gaze lingered on my bosom, the implications clear.

  With shaking fingers, I reached for the vase on the bedside table.

  Fear coursed through me and suddenly I thought, if only Rye and Keane were here. They’d know what to do.

  RYE

  * * *

  "I think it’s time to go back to Bridgewater," Keane stated, downing the last of his Scotch and slamming the glass on the table to emphasize his point. We were seated, as we had been every evening during our brief sojourn in Butte, at the saloon next to the Hotel Imperial.

  "I feel the same," I said, with no small amount of surprise to realize how fond I had become of the ranch in the Montana mountains. "We might as well return, though it’s only been three days, half the time we’d intended to be here."

  "We failed at our task," Keane reminded me, unnecessarily.

  Yes, that one task, the most important of all, had not been accomplished. Much to the disappointment of us both.

  I had tried to convince myself we would find another, but I was haunted by visions of the girl in the park. Lily. Lily Snow. Her sweet voice echoed in my head and invaded my thoughts around the clock. I had woken every morning with a stiff cock after increasingly debauched dreams of her. Her with me. Her with Keane. Her between the two of
us. Her body as eager for us as we were for her. My cock ached to plunge deep into her, to claim her over and over, leave her in no doubt that she belonged to us. Her pleasure noises echoing around the room as we made her come time and again.

  "You know the one I want. The one we both want," Keane said.

  Hell yes, I knew who we wanted. Keane and I had been the closest of friends since childhood, able to finish each other’s sentences, communicate without speaking. Why he felt the need to bring up this subject again, I had no idea.

  "For fuck’s sake, man, she’s married." I glared at him across the small table in the corner of the saloon, the disappointment in his eyes no doubt the same as what I felt.

  "Not happily." He signaled to one of the saloon girls to bring us both another drink, then turned back to me, his expression grim. "You saw the way her demeanor changed when that asshole came along. The kids didn’t like him either. We’d never treat her that way. Never, ever. She’d be cherished and honored. She deserves us."

  "What are you suggesting? That we kidnap a married woman, force her to get divorced and then marry us?" Our drinks arrived and promptly disappeared. "We need to stop thinking about her."

  "You felt it, too, didn't you?" Keane asked me for the tenth time since we'd watched her walk away. Walk away with her husband and children, no less.

  "Of course I did." I gripped the edge of the table and stood. I was tired of being in the noisy saloon. "But, it cannot be."

  Keane stood as well. "No, you’re wrong. She’s meant to be ours, and it will happen. I’ll make it happen. I didn’t survive the bloody war in Mohamir and travel across the godforsaken ocean then wear my ass out on the back of a horse getting to the Montana Territory to spend the rest of my days living in a cabin with only you."

  "Well, that’s hardly my dream come true either, you stupid motherfucker."

  "That’s some fine talk, your lordship."

  "Don’t call me that," I snapped.

  We exited the saloon and crossed the street to the Hotel Imperial, Butte’s finest accommodations. We’d stayed in the best suite, dining out for every meal. Though I much preferred life on Bridgewater Ranch, I was not opposed to spending the money necessary for some time away in the city. I did not care to flaunt my family name or wealth, however, I was not shy about making good use of either when it benefited me.

  As we climbed the stairs to our room, I said, "I hope I am wrong."

  "About me being a stupid motherfucker?" Keane grinned, our cross words forgotten.

  "You know what I mean. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the girl in the park. The one with hair the color of a fawn and eyes to match, with flecks of gold around the irises." I shook my head. "She’s making me sound like a fucking poet."

  "Lily Snow. Could a name be any more fitting for the bride we’ll train to please us? Love and cherish for the rest of our lives? See? I can be just as poetic."

  We had a corner suite on the second floor. We made our way down the long corridor, each lost in his own thoughts.

  "No! Stop this instant!" a female cried out from behind a room door.

  We halted in our tracks and exchanged a glance. The sound of broken glass and more shouts. A woman in trouble. Nothing got our attention faster than that. A man’s voice could be heard from behind the door, too. Menacing. I had no tolerance for a man who threatened females.

  We had no time to waste.

  Keane put a shoulder to the door, and it opened with a bang, startling the two occupants: Lily Snow and her husband. I’d never expected to see her again and was stunned to find her in a room at the hotel.

  I didn’t hold with interfering in a couple’s private affairs, particularly since I was considering entering into a marriage considered taboo in most of the world. But a marriage license didn’t give a man the right to frighten his wife. Lily held a vase, raised high and ready to use in her defense. Her clothes were disheveled, the hem of her white blouse was untucked from the waistband of her skirt. The top buttons were open, revealing the base of her throat where a pulse hammered. Her eyes were large and frightened, though she stood her ground. Wisps of hair had fallen loose and framed her delicate face.

  Her husband, his jacket removed and wearing only his shirt and pants, had his hand in midair. A knife glinted in the last of the day’s sun coming through the window. He glared at her, a combination of lust and loathing in his gaze.

  I stepped forward and took her by the arm. "Come with me, Lily." I gave a gentle tug to get her attention. She turned and gazed at me, recognition dawning slowly on her face, bringing a small smile. "You!" she exclaimed and stepped my way.

  "Hey, she's with me," the man sneered, waving the knife at me, like that would deter me. His forehead carried a gash, and the remains of another vase littered the floor. He snarled, and his eyes narrowed with fury. Apparently he was not accustomed to being told no, by his wife or anyone.

  He lunged clumsily in my direction. I stepped in front of Lily to shield her and stopped his progress with a right jab to the nose.

  "Not anymore," I said, turning back to Lily. I slipped my arm around her slender waist, and my heart lifted with elation at having her next to me. It felt right. Perfect.

  "Jesus Christ, why’d you do that?" Mr. Snow shouted. Blood trickled down onto his upper lip, and he searched his pockets, pulling out a pristine linen handkerchief that instantly turned scarlet.

  My gaze met Keane's. "I'll take her; you take care of him."

  Keane nodded and looked to the door with a scowl. "You'd best hurry before anyone else gets here."

  "Come with me, little dove." I took the vase from her and set it down. She gaped at me and nodded.

  She gave a bit of resistance to my efforts.

  "You'll come to no harm at my hands, Lily," I said and finally she nodded.

  There were numerous things my hands ached to do with her— touch her everywhere, caress her curves, bring her to a shattering climax. But harm? Never. Over my dead body. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but she was ours now.

  3

  LILY

  * * *

  His eyes were mesmerizing. Exactly as I remembered from our encounter in the park. Piercing blue against weather-darkened skin. I stared into them and nodded. Where I had been scared to my bones in the company of Mr. Garner, this stranger's presence filled me with a sense of safety. "You'll come to no harm at my hands, Lily." His words echoed in my mind like a balm to my soul.

  Rye. I had thought about him, and Keane, often in the past few days. I blushed recalling the lusty fantasy I’d had about them, the one that led to my termination as governess for the Garner children. Seeing the two of them barge into the hotel room had been like a miracle. Perhaps I was fantasizing again.

  When he gave a gentle tug on my wrist I went to him. He wrapped an arm around my waist and escorted me from the room. As I glanced back one last time, Keane had Mr. Garner by the collar of his shirt and had applied his knee to the man's groin. "You want someone to touch your filthy dick? Well, how about this?"

  I winced at Mr. Garner's groans of pain, though a part of me reveled in his punishment. Enjoyed seeing him humiliated, since that was his preferred method of treating others. Had I been a man, and had the courage and strength to do so, I would have done the same thing. Many times before now.

  But such was not my lot in life.

  My rescuer hurried me down the hall into an opulent corner suite and shut the door behind us.

  When the door clicked closed, an ominous silence fell over the room, and realization set in. I was with a stranger in his hotel room.

  But, was he really a stranger? We’d met in the park several days ago. Our encounter brief, but instinctively I had known there was something about him. Something that called to me on an elemental level. My skin heated where he touched me, and flutters erupted in my stomach.

  Not to mention the many depraved thoughts and fantasies I’d had about him and Keane.

  Glancing do
wn, I noticed the state of my clothing, and a shame-filled blush scorched my face. I turned away from Rye and adjusted my garments, though with buttons missing my blouse would not close. I removed a pin from my hair and fashioned a closure. Stifling an anguished sigh, I turned back to the gentleman whose presence seemed to fill the entire room.

  "I-I thank you for your assistance, sir," I said, looking him in the eye and then glancing away before I found myself lost in his gaze. "And your friend as well. It seems both of you have come to my rescue twice in only two meetings. I shall be on my way and not bother you any further." I stepped toward the door, though a part of me yearned for him to make me stay.

  Foolish notion. He was clearly a man of the world with his fancy hotel suite and the hint of an upper-crust British accent. And what was I?

  An unemployed governess with barely a cent to her name. But that was not his concern, and I would not make it so, either. I had my pride, for as long as it lasted.

  "Oh no, you don't." He stepped into my path.

  "Please, sir. I have troubled you enough already."

  He reached out and grasped my arm. When I winced, his eyes softened with concern, and he opened the buttons on the cuffs of my sleeves. The breath hitched in my throat at the feel of his touch upon my flesh. Tiny sparks lit my skin wherever his fingers rested. He gently turned my arm until the bruise was visible. He swore under his breath then looked me in the eye. "I do not care if that man is your husband, he has no right to lay hands on you in this manner. No man does, but a husband doing this to his wife..." His jaw clenched shut, and he said no more.

  He turned away and raked his fingers through his hair as though trying to contain a volatile reaction.

  I blinked as his words sank in. "Husband? That man is not my husband. He is Mr. Richard Garner, my f-former employer."

  Rye spun around on his heel and grabbed me by my upper arms. "What? What did you say?"