Their Accidental Bride (Bridgewater Brides)

by Kelly Dawson

  I slid down off my horse, leaving the reins dangling. My horse was well trained, he would not move. The lady was trying to be brave, but it was clear she was terrified. Her face was pale, she was shaking, and she was on the verge on hyperventilating. It looked like she’d had a shock. While Roscoe held the panting horse still, I reached for the lady, taking her hands to help her down. Her hands were small, smooth, the nails well kept. She wore no wedding ring. They weren’t the hands of a woman who was used to work. What was a lady who had been so gently reared, doing way out here, alone?

  She stepped down and collapsed against me, her small body wracked with sobs. She was trying to speak, but she was crying so hard I couldn’t make any sense of what she was saying.

  “Sssshhhh,” I whispered, rubbing her back, holding her close. Her ample breasts brushed against me and my cock hardened in my pants at the closeness of her soft body against mine. It had been a long time since I’d held a woman. Too long. Her feminine curves were perfect. She fitted against me so well. The top of her head didn’t quite reach my chin; the perfect height for me to bend my head to kiss. The top few buttons on her blouse had been torn off, likely in her battle with the runaway beast, and I looked down at her, my gaze resting directly on her heaving bosom. Definitely more than a handful.

  My other hand slipped around her trim waist, pulling her in closer.

  Her tears wet my shirt but still I held her close. She was awakening desires in me that I thought were long buried and forgotten. When Rose had died, I had vowed I would never want another woman again. And up until now, I hadn’t. But there was something about the woman in my arms. Her vulnerability and fear brought out my protective instincts and her body brought out stirrings of lust. I wanted her. My cock throbbed.

  Finally she stopped sobbing and let go of me, reaching for her bag. She pulled out several papers and thrust them at me, still breathing heavily, still looking frightened. She looked ready to flee at any moment. I took the papers and quickly scanned the barely legible script.

  “You’re a mail order bride?” Disappointment welled within me. She belonged to someone else.

  “The name,” she gasped, still panting for breath. “Do you know him?”

  I read the letter her prospective husband had written, outlining the qualities he was looking for in a wife. If the woman standing in front of me met those requirements, she would be a very good wife indeed. She was certainly very pleasant to look at, she had fitted perfectly against me. And if she was a capable cook and able to keep a clean house too, Roscoe and I would have no complaints.

  Then I read the name. Coleton Mallone. He was dead and buried. A grisly accident had claimed his life just three days ago.

  “Is it true? Is he dead?” she asked, her voice small, tinged with desperation.

  “Yes ma’am,” I told her. “It is.”

  I passed the papers over to Roscoe to read before turning back to the lady. “He was a good man.” Her lower lip quivered but there was a stubborn tilt to her chin. She squared her shoulders, but there was no hiding her distress.

  “I’ll have to go back then,” she whispered, sounding utterly bereft.

  How far had she journeyed? Where was she going back to? More importantly, to whom was she going back to? As a mail-order bride, she had obviously come west for a reason. Ladies didn’t just marry a man they’d never met, even a man as good as Coleton had been, unless they had no other choice.

  “Go back where?” Roscoe asked.

  The lady startled at the unexpected voice coming from behind her but she gathered her composure quickly. If nothing else, she was courageous. But she couldn’t completely hide her fear. Whatever it was she was running from, it frightened her.

  “Philadelphia.” Her hands flew to her mouth as she choked on a sob.

  I looked across at Roscoe, one eyebrow raised in question, and he nodded. She would be ours. Roscoe and I were getting along just fine by ourselves, but it was mighty lonely at night and our small cabin needed a woman’s touch.

  Roscoe and I had been friends since childhood. Ever since he had fought off my bully on the first day of school, we’d been inseparable. Roscoe wasn’t bigger or stronger than me anymore, but he was still my best friend. He’d stood beside me when I’d lost my Rose, supported me in my grief. We’d shared just about everything since then, including our house and small ranch in Bridgewater. It was almost inevitable that we would share a wife. I hadn’t been willing to before, but I was now. We would share her between us, in the Bridgewater way, both of us devoted to her pleasure. Both of us keeping her safe. Both of us teaching her all the ways in which a woman can please a man.

  “No.” I shook my head, but she acted as if she hadn’t heard me. Her face was still buried in her hands. Long, fair curls fell through her fingers. Her bosom heaved with each breath she took. My cock stirred again. I wanted to fuck her until she was smiling, until she forgot the reason for her tears.

  “Darkness is falling,” Roscoe told her. “Where are you going to go?”

  “I’ll go back to Butte and stay at the hotel,” she announced determinedly.

  “No!” My voice was louder than I intended. “It’s not safe for a woman travelling alone. That town has all sorts of rotten jaspers hiding in it. Besides, do you even know where the town is? Which direction to go?”

  She looked around. It was clear that she was lost.

  “I will be fine,” she insisted.

  I will be fine. They were the last words Rose, my fiancé, had said to me. She’d refused to heed my warning and her carelessness had gotten her killed. She’d gone into town by herself, without me, and had gotten caught in the crossfire of a gunfight. I will be fine spoken in Rose’s sweet voice echoed in my head. It had been two years since my Rose had died but it felt like only yesterday. Memories of her came flooding back. I remembered how helpless I’d felt that day. Rose hadn’t listened to me and I hadn’t been able to protect her. I was not going to let that happen again. I was not going to let this foolhardy woman, who didn’t understand the dangers of the west, get herself killed. Not when I could prevent it.

  “Bridgewater isn’t far from here,” Roscoe said. “Our home. You’ll be safe there.”

  “I’m not afraid of any… what did you call them? Rotten jaspers? They don’t scare me.”

  “You won’t get back to town before nightfall,” I warned her, but she reached for the reins Roscoe still held. A growl lodged itself deep in my throat. “If you aren’t the most infuriating woman!” I muttered. In one swift movement I dropped to one knee in the dirt and hauled her over my dusty thigh, wrestling with her skirts as she kicked and squirmed, until finally, I was able to pull them up.

  “You let go of me!” she screamed.

  I didn’t let her go. Instead, I parted her drawers and laid a crisp spank across her rounded, creamy buttocks.

  “I will let you up when you agree to mind me and not before,” I informed her, swatting her sharply again. “It’s a different world out here to back in Philadelphia.” Another smack punctuated my words. “You’re obviously not aware of the dangers and you won’t listen when we try to tell you.” I flattened my hand and spanked her twice more. “My Rose was killed because she was reckless. I will not let that happen to you.”

  She was kicking and twisting so much I could see the dewy wetness glistening in the sweet folds of her swollen pussy. The movement of her body against my cock made it strain against my pants. I couldn’t wait to sink it into her. I spanked her again, a little bit harder, watching as her bouncing globes turned pink under my touch. I traced my finger along the edge of a handprint. “Are you ready to mind me yet?”

  “Yes!” she gasped, pressing her hands against the ground to lever her body upwards. I held her fast. “I will do as you say!” she promised.

  “Good.” I let her up.

  3

  ROSCOE

  * * *

  Still holding the reins in one hand, I reached out for the lady and helped h
er to her feet. My breathing was almost as labored as hers was. She’d been wide open to my gaze when she’d kicked her feet wildly during her punishment and the sight of her glistening cunny made my balls ache.

  She was ours. She may not know it yet, but she would soon. We would make sure of it. I couldn’t wait to claim her, to fill her holes with my seed.

  I wasn’t looking for a wife. After seeing how miserable my lying, cheating parents had made each other, I didn’t want that for myself. I’d left home as soon as I could to escape their constant fighting and Shane had been my only companion. I liked it that way. But now here was a woman, in the middle of nowhere, that we’d come across quite by accident. She had nowhere to go. Returning to Philadelphia obviously terrified her. I wanted her. Me and Shane, we both wanted her. We would share her, claim her together.

  The proud carriage of her body revealed a stubborn defiance, as she bravely brushed down her skirts. Her face was flushed. Her blue eyes sparked. Was it anger or arousal that danced there? I wasn’t sure.

  I didn’t let go of her arm and she didn’t pull it away. Instead she turned, so she could look at me better, and I felt her gaze rake up and down my body. I saw her lips part ever so slightly. That spark in her eyes flashed.

  “I’m pleased to see you have more manners than your barbaric companion,” she told me, in cultured tones. She’d been raised well. The way she spoke suggested an education in an expensive finishing school, not just learning basic reading, writing and arithmetic in a one-room schoolhouse out here in the mountains. Did she have the skills necessary to survive out here? If she’d been honest in responding to Coleton’s letter, she did.

  “My barbaric companion saved your life.” I did not smile. “Perhaps he did not act like a gentleman, but he is right when he said you do not understand the dangers of the west. You would not have made it back to town alone; there is no law out here. Not like what you’re used to.”

  She wrenched her arm from my grasp and stood between Shane and I. She looked about to cry. “What am I to do?”

  “Come to Bridgewater with us,” I told her. “Shane and I, we will keep you safe. Whatever it is you’re running from, we’ll protect you.”

  I looked over her head at Shane. He nodded. He wasn’t willing to let her go any more than I was. Not now that we’d found her. She was ours. I was glad we’d found her. Shane hadn’t been the same since he’d lost his first love, Rose, and it would do him good to have a woman again. Rose had been Shane’s alone, but I knew he didn’t want a woman to himself again. He wanted to share one, like all the men on Bridgewater did. The responsibility of keeping a woman safe out here was too much for just one man. We would do well, sharing a bride between us.

  There was fear in her eyes, but no more than there’d been before, when she’d learned that Coleton was dead. She had no reason to trust us. But she didn’t really have a choice.

  I smiled. I was not given to smiling, but I wanted to put her at ease. “Come.” I extended my arm to her, she took it, resting her fingers in the crook of my elbow. I kept a grip on the reins and handed her up into the buggy, climbing up next to her and settling myself on the hard wooden seat. We waited while Shane tied my horse to the back, and mounted his own steed.

  She sat stiffly, squirming uncomfortably, but her body was close to mine. She could have moved over if she wanted to, widening the gap between us, but she didn’t.

  “I don’t even know your name.” She spoke softly, but her eyes met mine and her gaze was steady. She’d obviously decided to meet her future bravely. Her courage made me like her even more. I had no time for weak, timid women. The Montana Territory was no place for a woman who was frightened of her own shadow. If she was to be our wife, she would need to be honest. Hardworking. Resilient and brave. And she’d need to be willing to learn. We had lots to teach her, Shane and I. Things to do with her pleasure, and with ours.

  “Roscoe,” I introduced myself.

  Shane rode up alongside us. “I’m Shane. And you are?”

  “I’m Elise. Elise Templeton.”

  “Elise.” The name rolled off my tongue. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

  She smiled, and her whole face lit up. If I’d been attracted to her before, it was nothing to the way my body responded now. My cock strained against my pants, begging to be let out. On a whim, I slid my arm around her shoulders and drew her in close. After just a few seconds she leaned against me and I felt her relax. She didn’t seem afraid now. In fact, she seemed anything but.

  Darkness was falling when we arrived at our small ranch on the outskirts of Bridgewater. Our wooden cabin and the fields beyond were bathed in a golden glow, light from the rising moon. Beside me, Elise sucked in a breath. It did look beautiful. My arm tightened around her. I was proud of the life Shane and I had built together and couldn’t wait to share it with her.

  As Shane took care of the horses, I took Elise, and her suitcase, inside. I lit the lamp and showed her around. Our cabin was not big, but it had everything we needed. Two bedrooms. Comfortable chairs. A decent stove in the kitchen for cooking on and a wooden table to eat at. It was simple, but clean, and Elise could decorate it however she wanted. I watched her with interest as she took in her surroundings. She was obviously used to fancier dwellings than this, as disappointment was evident on her face.

  “Shane and I built this house ourselves. And everything in it,” I told her, and winced at the defensiveness in my tone. What did it matter if our home didn’t compare to what she had left behind in Philadelphia? Things were different out here. Still, I wanted her to like it. I wanted her to be proud of what we had achieved, all by ourselves. Honestly. Not through swindling and cheating like my parents had done. Everything Shane and I had, we’d worked for.

  Slowly, Elise smiled. “I like it,” she declared. “It’s nice and cozy.”

  I knelt at the stove and lit a fire in the grate and listened to Elise’s gentle, even breathing and the soft lilt of her voice. “Father was a successful businessman and our house was large, but it lacked warmth. Servants kept it clean and my aunt came to supervise the dinner parties father threw for his business, but it didn’t feel like this. This feels like…. It feels like a home.”

  “Where was your ma?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question, it just slipped out, but I was curious. Did she have a useless, quarrelsome mother like I had?

  “I never knew her. She died having me.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I was. My mother might have been useless, but I think it was better than not having one at all. She hadn’t been a shrew all the time. I did have some fond memories, back from when I was very young.

  Elise shrugged as though she didn’t care, but a glimmer of pain flitted across her face. Of course she cared. I watched her stare at the flickering flames. She looked lost in thoughts. Memories, perhaps?

  “You can cook?” I asked her. “Coleton wanted a wife who could cook.”

  Without looking at me, she nodded. She seemed a bit hesitant. Could she cook, or couldn’t she? It didn’t matter to me either way, Shane and I would teach her everything she needed to know. But I didn’t want a dishonest wife. Neither would Shane. I knew what dishonesty did to a marriage and I didn’t want a part of it.

  Footsteps on the wooden porch heralded Shane’s arrival. Elise looked up and smiled, her beauty stirring life into my cock once again.

  It was about time we showed her what it meant to be ours. Awaken the arousal that lay dormant within her. We wouldn’t claim her fully until she became our wife, but we could introduce her to the pleasure that awaited her. We could, and would, make her body dance with desire.

  Shane read my mind. He always could, seemed like. I guess that happened when two people knew each other as long as we had, and shared everything.

  I reached for Elise at the same time Shane did, and although her smile faltered just a bit, she came with us willingly enough. She seemed slightly afraid, but also eager to see what we had in store for her.


  “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. You have our word. We will protect you, always.” My voice was gruff, husky with arousal.

  4

  ELISE

  * * *

  I should have been afraid of these men, but I wasn’t. There was something about them that made me feel safe. When I thought about Mr. Yates I felt nothing but fear and disgust. But when I thought about these men right here, there was none of that. I trusted them. I didn’t know why, but I did. For some reason, I knew they wouldn’t hurt me. Even Shane, when he’d manhandled me over his lap and spanked me soundly, hadn’t really hurt me. Oh, he’d hurt my bottom. And my pride. But he hadn’t frightened me. And when Roscoe had climbed up into the wagon next to me and held me securely for the entire journey, I felt like I’d belonged right there next to him, with his powerful body right there alongside mine and his strong arm around my shoulders protecting me.

  Besides, what choice did I have? Returning to Philadelphia, to John and Mr. Yates, wasn’t an option. It was much better to take my chances with the two men beside me, and trust my instincts about them were correct.

  They were certainly handsome. Both were tall, dark and muscular. Neither of them looked to be very old; just a few years older than me. In their early twenties, perhaps. One of them, Roscoe, appeared to be slightly older, and a dark close-trimmed beard shadowed his jaw. I’d already felt how hard and solid his body was, and as his fingers enclosed around my wrist, my tummy somersaulted. When Shane took my other arm, my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched in my throat. He was every bit as tall, muscular and strong as Roscoe was and his dark eyes blazed with passion. He filled me with excitement. Both of them did.

  I followed where they led, through a door and into a bedroom. Shane let go of my arm and lit the lantern. A bright quilt covering the bed was the only color in the room and even that looked gloomy in the dim light. A heavy oak dressing table stood in the corner and there were no curtains framing the window. I could look directly outside and see the stars. It was a very masculine room. It would do well with a feminine touch.