by Vanessa Vale
"Shh, it's all right. We'll have you warm in just a minute," Mason told her, going to the shelf and pouring out a small portion of whiskey. "Here, drink this." He propped her up with his arm as he held the cup to her lips. She took a sip, then coughed and winced at the pungent taste. "More." She shook her head but he insisted and was able to get two swallows down. "Good girl."
Beneath the corset, she was covered—barely—by a thin shift. The lower half of the dress was sodden now, the snow that had clung to it melting in the warm room. The dark green wool accentuated her hair color, made her skin even paler. As Mason held her, I worked the garment down over her hips and onto the floor.
"Shit."
I couldn't have agreed with Mason more. We were in big trouble here. Our gazes met over the woman's head. We'd been waiting for her. The one. She was barely alive and I knew it to be so. How? I had no idea, but I knew it to the very marrow of my bones.
I looked to my friend and he gave me a quick nod.
Relief coursed through me at his tacit confirmation.
The skin of her leg was icy beneath my fingers. "Almost done, sweetheart."
"Her fingers and toes aren't black, so frostbite hasn't set in. Thank god," Mason muttered.
I tugged at the hem of her shift. "This is damp. It has to go."
"No, I need my clothes," she replied, trying to hold the shift down.
Mason stroked a hand over her hair. "Shh, we've got a warm blanket for you."
"Oh," she moaned, clearly the thought appealed to her.
"No wet clothes, sweetheart. We'll get the shift off you and then wrap you in a nice warm blanket." I tried to make my voice as soft as possible, but I wasn't known for my gentleness. Laurel required it, though, so I tempered it for her.
I quickly stripped her bare and I couldn't help but look at her luscious form before Mason wrapped the quilt around her, rubbing her with the soft material to warm her more quickly.
"That feels so good," she sighed as she curled into Mason's chest from her position on the table. She wasn't as small as she seemed in my arms. I estimated her to be of average height, and with ample curves. There were no sharp bones with her, only very plump breasts, her nipples tightly furled and the color a pale coral. I'd seen them in the few seconds before she was covered. Even her hips were lush and full as if made for a man's hands to grip. I'd even caught a quick glimpse of the hair that shielded her pussy. It was a shade darker than the hair on her head, a striking contrast to her pale skin and the pink flesh just peeking out. Mason lifted her into his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her into the parlor. He sat in the chair directly by the fire as I followed with the heated blanket.
Unfolding it, I tucked it around her until she was completely covered with only her face showing. Beads of sweat dotted Mason's brow, which meant his heat would be seeping into her. I took the seat across from them, leaned forward with my forearms on my knees.
"Is that better?" Mason asked.
"Yes, you're so warm. You saved me."
"We'll keep you safe, sweetheart," Mason soothed, stroking the back of his knuckles over her cheek. "Her color's better," he told me.
Pink tinged her lips now instead of blue. A good sign. Her eyes drifted closed.
"I'm so tired," she said. The whiskey most likely helped with this.
"Sleep now. I've got you. Brody and I will take care of you."
"I'm safe?" she asked, her voice soft.
Mason kissed the top of her head. "We'll let nothing happen to you."
Both of us watched her for a minute, her muscles going lax as she dipped into sleep. She was past any danger now and needed to warm up and rest.
"I heard a shot," I lowered my voice.
Mason lifted his gaze from the woman to meet mine. "She was riding a horse. Looks like the animal stepped in a hole, broke his leg. She was thrown. A snowdrift softened her fall. I had to put the animal down."
"How far from the house?"
He shook his head, considering. "One hundred meters, maybe further. I couldn't see anything out there to know. I followed my tracks back."
"I wonder where she came from, and why the bloody hell was she out in this?" I looked down at her. Long lashes fanned across her pale cheeks.
"We'll have plenty of time to find the answers. The way this storm is blowing, she's not going anywhere for awhile."
"She's not going anywhere. Ever. Agreed?"
Mason nodded. "Agreed."
LAUREL
Curled warmly on my side, I was reluctant to wake up. Miserable as I'd been gripping the reins of the horse, I'd been correct to fall asleep. The coldness was gone. My fingers and toes were no longer numb. Snow and wind weren't stinging my cheeks. My clothes were no longer wet. In fact, I was no longer wearing clothes. Then why was I so warm? Something hard pressed against my back while something warm touched my front.
I stretched and bumped into a solid, very warm, slightly hairy—
My eyes flew open and there, just a few inches from my face was a man. Blond hair that was a few months past a haircut, blue eyes, full lips.
"Oh!" I gasped and backed away and as I rolled over was surprised to find myself face-to-face with another man. My heart leapt into my throat. "Oh!"
Men surrounded me! It all came rushing back. Falling in the snow, being carried inside, men talking to me, taking off my wet clothes, warming me. I remember the whiskey, the hot blanket and being held. I'd felt safe in the man's arms, so warm and comforted. They had been concerned and focused solely on warming me up. They'd been...kind and protective.
"It's all right, you're safe." The man I now faced had short black hair, a neatly trimmed beard and equally dark eyes. His voice was deep, yet the tone soothing. And he was in my bed.
"We won't hurt you," the other man said. I turned to look over my shoulder at him. "Do you remember us from last night?" He held my gaze and I nodded. They spoke with unusual accents, nothing normally heard in the area. No one I'd ever met. I didn't notice this the night before, but I wasn't completely coherent.
I couldn't stay here. I needed to get up, to get away. This was not proper, being in bed—naked—with two strange men!
I sat up, both men lying on their sides facing me. My movement exposed the expanse of their broad shoulders, naked chests, and muscular arms. Tugging the sheet and quilt over my breasts to keep my modesty did nothing to cover my back. I felt cool air on my skin and watched as their gazes lowered.
"Oh!" I moved to my knees and tried to crawl from the bed between them, only to quickly realize two things simultaneously. The first was that they held the bedding securely, keeping me from moving. The second was that I was showing them my bottom, and if they could see that, they could see my womanhood.
I could have climbed from the bed naked, but realized if I did I’d have nothing to cover my nakedness. I could not run out of the room as I was. So I had no choice by to lie down once again, tugging the quilt up beneath my chin with a little squeal. I decided to try and talk my way out of this unseemly situation.
I needed to stay in the bed to keep my virtue. They needed to leave. I told them so.
"No." The blond one shook his head slowly. His eyes were heavy lidded and his cheeks had taken on a ruddy color. "You were half frozen when Mason found you. Nearly dead. We warmed you and watched over you all night." His voice was rough as he stared at me. No, he was staring at my lips.
"We need to ensure you are well, for you fell asleep on us." The dark haired one propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at me, the quilt not covering his body as much as it did mine. A smattering of dark hair covered his chest and I wondered if it would be soft to the touch. It narrowed and tapered into a line that went to his navel before being covered up. "Did you hit your head when you fell? Do you have pain anywhere? Your fingers and toes, are they numb?"
Realizing my eyes were wandering inappropriately, I lifted my gaze to meet his. "I am quite well now, thank you. No damage done,"
I replied, trying to distract him from my actions.
It didn't work. He smiled very knowingly. I'd been caught. My cheeks flushed hotly. Instead of being cold, I was overly warm. These men were like cast iron stoves, ample heat radiating off of them. The quilt was becoming too much, but I could not lower it.
He lifted a hand toward my face and I flinched as his fingers ever so gently moved over my hair. He didn't stop as he spoke. "Shh, don't be afraid."
"I am Mason," the bearded one said. His hand slipped beneath the blanket and I startled when his warm fingertips brushed over my shoulder. "And that lug is Brody."
"How do you do?" I asked politely, then cleared my throat. "Thank you very much for rescuing me, but I should be on my way." I spoke as if they blocked the door at the mercantile, not surrounded me in a bed.
Mason's restraining hand on my shoulder was insistent, although gentle. Brody continued to touch my hair, as if he'd never seen the color before. Their touch was as tender as it had been the night before, their voices soothing me in a way I'd never known. It was all surprising to me, this tenderness I found in two strangers.
"Which way is that?" Mason's brow rose in question.
"I...um, well, toward Virginia City."
Brody frowned, his hand stilling at my nape. "That's several hour's ride from Simms, and we're further to the north."
"Then I must certainly make haste, being late as I am." I was a terrible liar, especially under duress. Being naked in bed with two men was most certainly under duress.
"Is someone expecting you? No one would assume you would travel in such a blizzard," Mason commented. "They will think you home safe and anticipate your arrival after the roads are passable."
Both men's hands were moving over me once again, Mason's sliding up and down my arm, Brody mimicking him with the other. I clutched at the bedding by my neck and tried to ignore how their hands felt. I'd never had a man touch me in this way before, clothed or not. Of course, I'd never been in a bed with a man before, let alone two.
Mason's hand stilled on my elbow. "A husband? Was he traveling with you? I didn't find anyone else."
Brody stopped moving at the question and they looked at me closely.
I could lie and say I was wed, but then I'd have to create a spouse and that was why I'd run away in the first place. Or they'd venture out in the dangerous and inclement weather to find an imaginary person because of a lie.
Besides, I did not wish them to think I was a loose woman, falling into bed with men all the time. This situation was...highly irregular. "Oh, no. No husband. That would be highly inappropriate of me to be married to one while in bed with another...two."
Both men visibly relaxed and their hands began stroking over my skin again, causing goose bumps. Their motions were meant to be soothing, but it was quite hard to relax in a situation such as this.
"Um...where am I?"
"Bridgewater. It is our ranch."
"Why am I in bed with you?" How did I word this delicately? "With...both of you? I remember being wrapped in a warm blanket and comfortably tucked in one of their laps. I remember a hand stroking over my cheek, over my hair, a kiss on the top of my head. It had felt so good, deep down knowing I was safe. Even now, between these two I felt safe. Still, they would think me forward. "Besides being unseemly, this is quite odd."
"Here at Bridgewater, it is not odd for a woman to be cared for by two men. In fact, it is the norm. We believe in the ways of the East where a woman has several husbands."
Several husbands? "I've never heard of such a thing," I replied.
"As you can tell from our accents, we're British. We were stationed in Mohamir with our regiment. It was the cultural norm. The marriage protects the woman. It keeps her safe and cherished, having multiple men to possess her," Mason explained.
"Cherishing a woman is her husbands' job," Brody added.
I felt obscenely uncomfortable. Adding their surprising tale of multiple husbands made the situation even more unusual. "You both share a wife? Won't she...um, find it odd for you to be in bed with me? Or is that also a cultural norm?"
Mason's eyes narrowed. "I will forgive your words out of ignorance, but do not think to besmirch our character, our honor, by insinuating we would shame a wife by being in bed with another woman."
"We are bachelors. No wife," Brody clarified.
Did that make it reasonable then to be in bed with me? This was a topic of conversation that was not only unfamiliar, but also very uncomfortable.
"If I could just get my clothes, and perhaps if you would be so kind to offer a simple meal, I can let you return to your tasks." I just needed to get away from these handsome men. Their touch should have been repulsive, just like the very idea of Mr. Palmer's hands on me, but it wasn't. In fact, it was having quite a different effect entirely. It felt good. Gentle. Warm. Kind. Very attentive.
"It is still snowing and is unsafe for travel. We just saved you from the cold, sweetheart. We aren't inclined to let you out in it once again. Besides, your horse...I'm sorry to say, I had to put him down." Mason's voice was gentle and he watched me closely. Worry made him frown.
In my distraction, I'd forgotten about the animal. "The horse, oh. What happened?"
"It looks like he stepped in a hole. It was covered in snow and easily done. Broke his leg. It was his cries of pain that I heard when I went out for more wood."
"The horse saved your life," Brody added.
The poor thing. He should have been safely in the stable with a bucket of oats and yet he'd ventured out with me because I wanted away. Now he was dead, and all because I'd gone foolishly out in the poor weather. Tears knotted in my throat, stung the back of my eyes. I had been given no choice. If I'd remained abed, I most likely would be standing at the church alter right now with Mr. Palmer. No matter which way my mind turned, there was only crisis. Mr. Palmer. Two strangers in a bed. The horse being hurt. Dying. It was all too much. I started to cry. Brody turned me and pulled me close, letting me cry into his shoulder. His hands ran up and down my back soothingly and both men whispered to me. Although my crying too loud for me to hear their words, it was soothing nonetheless.
Brody's skin was warm against my face, the pale hairs on his chest tickling my nose. His scent was clean, dark. Manly. Hands ran through my hair and tilted my head back. Soft lips grazed over my forehead, my cheeks, and my jaw and then settled on my mouth.
I was being kissed!
His lips were warm, soft and they brushed over me gently, before his tongue licked over the seam of my mouth. Surprise had me gasping, which allowed Brody's tongue to slip inside and touch mine. My hands roamed over his hard, chiseled chest. His hands slid down my back to cup my bottom. No. That couldn't be possible because his hands were in my hair. Then that meant....
Mason.
Brody angled my head to the side and plundered my mouth. There was no other word for it. My senses, too. I'd never been kissed before and I'd imagined it to be a dry, staid peck. No tongue. I had no idea a man would kiss you with his tongue in your mouth. It was...incredible.
Why was I feeling this way? I shouldn't be all hot and tingly and achy from these men. These strangers. But they didn't feel entirely like strangers, for although I was quite confused and listless the night before, I could sense them taking care of me, protecting me. Warming me. I'd been held close and it had made me feel safe, safe enough to fall asleep in a stranger's arms. A stranger was someone unknown, someone with whom to maintain a cautious and wary distance. With these men, there was no distance. The wariness was there, but it wasn't for the men, but what they made me feel. Pulling my head back, I sucked air into my lungs that Brody had kissed away. "We need to stop. This...this isn't right. It feels...."
I felt more than saw Brody's smile. "No, sweetheart, this is very, very right. Didn't it feel good when I held you last night? Remember I said you were safe with us?"
I nodded.
"You're still safe. We'll still take care of you, but here in
this bed, we'll take care of you in different ways." His thumbs moved to brush the tear stains off my cheeks before lowering his mouth to mine once again. Mason moved closer so that his front was to my back, his lips sliding over my shoulder. I felt the soft bristle of his beard against my skin. Completely different than Brody's mouth. His hand rested on my waist.
I don't know whose touch was whose; their hands were everywhere. A hand went behind my knee and lifted my upper leg onto Brody's hip, pulling it close and holding it. The grip didn't let go.
One finger ran over my womanhood and I cried out in surprise. I tried to close my legs, but Brody's hand—it had to be his—held me securely.
"What...what are you doing?" I asked against Brody's mouth. His taste was as appealing as his scent, the combination softening my resistance, the muscles in my body.
"I'm playing with your pussy," Mason murmured as he nipped at the spot where my shoulder and neck met. His beard was soft, rasping against my skin.
A moan escaped my lips.
"W...why would you want to touch me there?"
"You offered us a little peek and I couldn't resist. Those pretty red curls only showing a hint of your pussy lips."
His words were carnal, crude. Honest. But I couldn't think about that further. Somehow, his finger—his one blunt finger—was doing things to me that had my mind turning to the consistency of oatmeal.
A hand cupped my breast. "Ah, Mason, you're going to love her breasts. So full, and her nipple, it just tightened against my palm."
"I can't wait, but I'm busy with her pussy. She's dripping wet."
I startled in alarm. "I'm wet? What's dripping? Something's wrong. No. You should stop."
"Sweetheart, nothing's wrong with you." Brody's fingers tugged on my nipple and I arched my back into it. "You're aroused and your pussy is readying for a cock."
I shook my head. "No. No...cocks. I'm a virgin. I can't allow that, no," I sputtered.
"No cock until you're married," Mason agreed, his voice deep. "Nothing in your pussy at all until then."
