Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 7)

by Vanessa Vale

  “Are you sure you should be doing this?” Miss Rose asked.

  I was once again in the kitchen of The Briar Rose sitting across from the woman who was more mother than madame. This time I wasn’t an innocent virgin, eager for some titillation. A week with Sully and Parker had stripped all innocence from me and I was glad for it. I loved everything I did with them, that they did to me, that they commanded I do to myself. I even liked the dratted ass plugs.

  “It’s my fault that Sully is in danger. He doesn’t want to be another target, whether it’s gossip or rumors or bullets. He just wants… quiet.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she countered as she stood to fill her mug from the coffeepot on the back of the stove. When she held the pot toward me, I shook my head. I was jittery enough as it was. Voices drifted from the floor above. It was early afternoon and while everyone was awake, no one moved too quickly. Nora had come down for a cup of coffee, said hello, then left. The butcher had delivered a box of stew meat for the evening meal, but otherwise, we had the kitchen to ourselves.

  “Benson would have gone after whatever man you married.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make it any better. Whomever I married—if it had been Parker instead—would have been Benson’s nemesis.”

  “You don’t think Sully can defend himself?”

  “I do.” Both my men could defend themselves, and me. “But while they went out there to protect me from those… goons Mr. Benson sent, it doesn’t solve the problem. He’ll just keep sending more until one of them gets lucky and kills Sully.”

  I felt sick just saying those words.

  Miss Rose reached across the table and took my hand. “You really love them, don’t you?”

  I laughed, but sadly. “I’ve known them a week. They kept me naked almost that entire time!”

  Miss Rose didn’t look horrified, only humored. “What’s wrong with that? It sounds romantic to me.”

  “Romantic? Do you have any idea what they did to me?”

  She smiled, shook her head. “Oh, I have some idea. I’m sure you can give Chloe some lessons now.”

  I tugged my hand away and folded both of them in my lap. “Yes, I suppose I could. But love? I’m not sure what I feel is that. I don’t want anything to happen to them. I don’t want anyone else to have them. I want to… please them.”

  Miss Rose laughed and lifted her coffee cup in the air as if to toast me. “Mary Sullivan, that’s love.”

  I looked up at her hopefully. It was love? This… need to take care of them, to give them what they wanted? They’d said it was their privilege to protect me and I understood that now. It was my job as their wife to protect them when I could. Knowing what I did about Mr. Benson could protect Sully. I wanted him. Needed him. Both of them. But love? “Really?”

  “Your mother, God rest her soul, would have told you just that. Your father, well, he’s a man and an idiot.”

  Very wise words.

  “And I have to face him. What time is it?”

  “Half past two.”

  I stood and carried my mug over to the sink. “He will be home at four, as usual, I’m sure. For once, I’m glad he’s so fastidious.”

  “Until then, you’ll sit here and tell me about your men. I want to hear all the salacious details.”

  PARKER

  “Oh, you two have got your hands full with that bride of yours.”

  Miss Rose stood at the back door of the brothel, not even allowing us to enter.

  “Let us in and we’ll take her off your hands,” I told her.

  We’d ridden hard from Bridgewater and went straight to the brothel. Oddly, it was her shelter in this crazy town and I knew she’d be safe there. Elsewhere, I had my doubts. But Benson didn’t want her. Well, he wanted her, but only if she was marriageable. That wasn’t happening any time soon.

  “She’s not here. That’s why I’m not letting you in. I’m saving you time.”

  “Shit,” Sully swore, walked in a circle. “She’s gone to Benson.”

  I was ready to go over to his house, his mine or wherever the fuck his was and rip his head off with my bare hands. If he touched or even breathed near Mary….

  “Benson? No.”

  I frowned, confused. “Then where the fuck is she?”

  Miss Rose raised one delicate eyebrow.

  “Pardon the language, but we need to find her so we can spank her ass.”

  She smiled then, looked between the two of us.

  “We’ll make her safe, then we’ll spank her ass,” Sully clarified.

  “She went to see her father,” Miss Rose said. “She knows something, gentlemen. She refused to tell me what it was, but it was something that will ensure Benson leaves you alone.”

  I was so frustrated I wanted to throttle her for the answer, but this woman, hell, I saw Mary in her. Or her in Mary. Stubborn, headstrong, smart. Fucking logical.

  “Then why go to her father? The man couldn’t care less about her.”

  She put a hand to her chest. The layers of white ruffles were almost blinding in the sunshine.

  “She wouldn’t tell me. But Millard’s house is easy to find. Just go to Granite Street. His is the biggest.”

  MARY

  “Hello, Father.”

  My father looked up from his newspaper and his eyes widened in surprise. He wore his usual black suit, crisp and sharp at any time of day. His gray hair was neatly combed, his jowls still covered his shirt collar. Sitting as he was in his usual wingback chair, his rotund physique was even more noticeable. Perhaps it was my perception of him that changed, being with Sully and Parker, two well-muscled giants. “Mary.”

  His tone was neither angry nor happy. He was neutral, as usual. I brought about no inspiration in the man, no happiness. In fact, the only time I’d seen him show true emotion toward me was anger when he’d discovered I’d married without his consent.

  “Where is your husband? Don’t tell me he abandoned you.”

  Oh. There was the Gregory Millard I knew. I stood before him just as I had all my life. First with a nanny, standing in my nightgown and robe bidding him goodnight. Then older, with my tutor reciting what I learned that day. I always stood feet together, back perfectly straight, chin up, hands clasped together in front of me.

  It wasn’t comfortable. It was practically subservient, but it was familiar. If I was confronting him, I wanted to be at ease, at least as much as possible. That was why I chose this time of day. He always read the newspaper before dinner was served at five in the dining room. He did not have a meeting, did not entertain. This was his time to read the news. Nothing else. Except today, when I would confront him for the first time.

  “You didn’t think he would have lingered longer than a week? I am a copper heiress, after all. If I remember correctly, you told me I was the richest woman in the entire Territory.”

  “You would still be if I hadn’t struck you from my will.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Perhaps it was more by his haste as stripping me from his life than his ruthlessness. I’d always had hope that maybe he’d change his ways, turn into a kind and attentive father. Loving. That would never happen and I had to let go of that. I had Sully and Parker and they were enough. They gave me everything I needed and it was nothing money could buy. It was love.

  “Then it’s a good thing that I’m not here for money.”

  He folded his paper precisely and placed it in his lap. “Why are you here? You’ve made your bed.”

  Yes, yes, I had. I thought of our bed at Bridgewater, Sully and Parker asleep on either side of me. I was naked and both of them had a hand on me, even in sleep. I was sheltered and protected, cherished… and yes, loved. I just hadn’t known what love was before I met them, before Miss Rose helped me see what it really was. With a father like the man before me, I’d never known.

  “I’m here about Mr. Benson.”

  “Oh?”

  “You are aware of his reasons for ma
rrying me?”

  “Of course.” He sighed. “Mary, I do run the largest copper mine in the world. Your assumptions belittle your intelligence, not mine.”

  His insults were not very subtle, but I pushed through, for this was important to me. To Sully. To all three of us.

  “Are you aware that the Beauty Belle mine is dry?”

  He laughed and shook his head, admonishing me and shaming me at the same time. “Dry? Impossible.”

  I would not be cowed. “Then why did Mr. Benson want to marry me?”

  “We are merging the two mines’ businesses to reduce employees and to improve efficiencies. We do not need two medical stations or food depots if we are one organization.”

  That was a sound business idea and I could offer no argument.

  “Whose medical station would close?”

  “His, for it is smaller.”

  I nodded slowly, relaxed my hands. I was right. My father was smart, but Mr. Benson was more cunning. “And whose food depot will close?”

  “His, for it is further from the train depot. It will cost less to deliver the goods to mine.”

  “And what would Mr. Benson gain from this arrangement?”

  “Besides you?” He looked at me directly, his gray eyes piercing.

  “Besides me, what does Mr. Benson gain from your business arrangement?”

  “We each gain twenty percent share in the other’s mine interests.”

  I nodded my head as if thinking about his words. It was as clear as crystal, at least for me. “And when you die, who would inherit?”

  “If you had wed Mr. Benson, you would have.”

  “Meaning, he would have inherited it all since a wife can hold no property. A wife’s worldly possessions belong to her husband. I’d say the arrangement is quite in Mr. Benson’s favor.”

  “Explain your insinuations again?”

  “They are not insinuations, they are fact.” It was hearsay, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “The Beauty Belle is dry, meaning you would a gain twenty percent share in nothing. As for Mr. Benson, he would gain a twenty percent share in your mine, which is thriving. You don’t need any shares of his company, for you do not face bankruptcy and are quite solvent, but in this arrangement, all you would lose is that interest in your company.”

  “How would you know something like this? Who told you? You can’t know of business dealings like this!”

  My father tossed the paper on the floor, pushed to his feet and stepped closer. His gait was slow, for he was grossly obese and his gout was surely inflamed again.

  “You forget, Father. You are the one who had me educated so well.”

  “I don’t believe a word you say.” His face turned mottle red and he used the back of his hand to wipe spittle from his chin.

  “You should,” Mr. Benson said, stepping into the room.

  I turned to face him, my skirts whipping about my ankles.

  “Benson! Have you heard such lies?” my father asked.

  Mr. Benson eyed me shrewdly. The dark anger was still there, in his eyes, the tenseness of his jaw, in every line of his body. I also saw the cunning he’d hidden so well before. Gone was any artifice of caring or concern, for myself or my father.

  He closed the door behind him, turned the lock with a loud snick. I took a step back, knowing that the man was unhinged and I was truly in danger. My father hadn’t realized it yet.

  “Actually, Gregory, your daughter is very astute. The Beauty Belle is dry. I’m barely pulling enough from her a day to pay the bills.”

  Father’s eyes widened and I worried for his health. I’d never seen him so angry, so out of control. “This is preposterous. You’re bringing in a million a day!”

  “You are,” Benson countered. “I’m bringing in as much as a two-bit whore on Broad Street. It would have all worked out, if not for you.”

  He shifted his focus from my father to me. Knowing the arrangement was dead, that he would not be owning a portion of the Millard mine, he wanted retribution.

  I took another step back, held my hands up in front of me. “You had not declared yourself and I met Mr. Sullivan while I was in Billings. It was very romantic.”

  “Romantic? You talked of fucking on the train platform.”

  Father moved back, stumbled over an ottoman. A lamp teetered, a small clock tipped and fell over.

  “He is my husband, Mr. Benson. I am allowed to have… sexual congress with him.”

  “Yes, of course you are. But he is not here? Where, pray tell, is Shooter Sullivan?”

  He knew where Sully was, knew that his paid men were laying siege to kill him. I just had to have faith that Sully and Parker, the other Bridgewater men, were more skilled and outmaneuvered them. I had to hope they were all safe.

  I had not expected to have Mr. Benson arrive at my father’s house. I’d intended to tell my father of Mr. Benson’s plan, warn him so he wouldn’t follow through. Simple, really.

  Except…

  “You married Shooter Sullivan?” my father asked, clearly stunned.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “She married a Bridgewater man,” Benson told my father. “Do you know what that means?”

  I flicked a glance at my father. I’d rather him hear the truth from me than from Mr. Benson. I was proud to be married to both men. I would not diminish it by making it seem tainted. “It means I married Shooter Sullivan and Parker Corbin. Two men. I married both men from the train.”

  My father stilled, his face blank. “You… I mean… I don’t understand.”

  No, he wouldn’t.

  “It means Mr. Benson wants Sully dead. If that occurred, then I’d be a widow. Marriageable. He wouldn’t need your business arrangement to get the Millard money. I’ve been the key all along.”

  “Yes, you little bitch, you ruined everything!” Mr. Benson’s eyes narrowed. Sweat beaded on his brow and he began to stalk me across the room.

  My father sought shelter behind his large desk.

  “Ruined everything? I did nothing. I lived my life how I wanted it. For once, I didn’t do what my father bid, what was expected of me. I married for love, to not one man, but two. They love me and cherish me, and yes, fuck me. But that’s what marriage is, not an arrangement.”

  My heart was hammering in my chest and I began to shake.

  “I wanted the business deal, yes,” Father admitted. “But I thought Mr. Benson was a good fit for you. Clearly, I was wrong.”

  Mr. Benson grinned, his teeth gleaming as bright as the whites of his eyes.

  “Mr. Sullivan is dead.” His words held a dark vehemence. He was so sure of himself that my faith in Sully was beginning to waver. What if… “I’ve taken care of him.”

  No. He couldn’t be right. Sully was too good at being… Sully. He had Parker with him, the other men from Bridgewater, too. I slowly shook my head. “You’re wrong. You’ve been watched. We knew your men were coming.”

  “What men?” my father asked, dropping down into his desk chair.

  “Men hired to kill her husband,” Benson snapped.

  “With the last of your money?” I asked. “It was wasted. Sully’s not dead.”

  “You are a fool. No man, not even Shooter Sullivan, could survive the O’Malleys.”

  I’d never heard of them, but that didn’t mean much. I hadn’t heard of Sully’s reputation either and he was so gentle with me. Unless he wasn’t and then he was tossing me on the bed and… oh. I couldn’t think about that. Not now.

  “You are coming with me until I have official news of his demise. Then we will wed. No church ceremony, a Justice of the Peace will suffice.”

  “I’m not going with you.” I backed into a side table; a porcelain figurine fell to the wood floor and shattered.

  His anger radiated from him. “That bastard, Sullivan. He stole you from me! You are mine. The money is mine. Your father will not stop us.”

  A horrible sound rent the air and we all spun to look at the door. It h
ad been locked, but now it slammed into the plaster wall with a harsh thud, then bounced off. The doorframe was splintered, ruined.

  I jumped and gasped, even Mr. Benson took a step back.

  Sully stood, big and brawny, in the doorway. His head almost reached the top of the doorframe. He stepped into the room, gun in hand. “Her father might not stop you, but I fucking will.”

  God, he looked so good. I raked my gaze over every inch of him. He appeared whole, healthy. Perfect. He was not dead. Elation and relief made me giddy.

  Parker came in behind him, then Kane. The three of them were so big, the room suddenly felt tiny. But Mr. Benson was desperate and quick.

  He grabbed me by my wrist and tugged me into him. The thick scent of hair tonic was cloying. With one arm banded about my waist, he wrapped his hand around my neck. Squeezed. His grip was tight, a little too tight. I could breathe, but barely. My eyes bulged and I clawed at his grip with my fingers. Panic set in. Sully and Parker had their eyes sharp and fixed on Benson but didn’t move any closer.

  Why weren’t they helping? Grab him! Do something. Wheezing, I shifted and tried to wiggle from Benson’s hold, which made him laugh, the sound maniacal.

  “Oh really? One twist and she’s dead.” His hand squeezed a little tighter and I made a gurgling moan. My nails dug into the top of his hand, in his wrist, but he was strong.

  Sully looked beyond angry, but I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone. Not anymore. Only Mr. Benson’s tightening grip.

  “Let her go,” Sully said. I’d never heard his voice so angry. “You want me dead so you can marry her. She holds no value to you dead. Besides, you can’t kill me if you’re holding her.”

  Mr. Benson’s hand loosened a bit and I could breathe. I gulped in air, relaxed slightly in his hold. It seemed silly not to fight him, but I was too interested in catching my breath.

  “That’s a start,” Sully told him.

  “You’re holding the gun on me, Shooter. I’m not stupid enough to release your wife. You’ll just shoot me.”

  Sully held out his hands from his sides, walked sideways to a small table, laid the gun down. “There now. I’m not going to shoot you.”

  Mr. Benson relaxed his hold even more.