A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (14 page)

“We weren’t raised with Puritans or gospel sharps,” said Ross. “Sex is part of life. As long as everyone enjoys themselves, we don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing. Nevin knows it would be him holding you right now if Gillis hadn’t ordered otherwise.”

“I’d let Ross in our bed if you were my wife,” said Nevin cheerfully. “Of course, that’s only if you wanted him. But from what Tillie said about your screams last night, you enjoy the marriage bed.” He leered in a way that heated her blood rather than threatened her. “You could enjoy it even more with two to pleasure you. All you have to do is say yes, Amelia.”

She thought of the drawings where two men pleasured a woman. Had Fate made sure she found that book before she even met her husband? Instead of the proper sense of revulsion at the thought of both Ross and Nevin touching her, she felt a needy urge. It came on her whenever she saw Ross. A hot need that burned her from clit to breasts, demanding that he touch her everywhere, that he fill her with his big, strong cock.

Did she want Nevin to do the same?

Yes!

She would surely burn in hell. From the heat in her pussy, she already burned. But it made her think of heaven instead. Both men stared at her as if they knew exactly what was in her mind. Would they really do those things to her in the sunlight? The thought of taking such a risk tightened the need inside her.

Nevin winked at her flush. “Speaking of noise, I’m heading back to Trace’s barn after supper so I can get some sleep. Beth said she’d likely stop by tomorrow.”

Ross groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He sighed. “I expect Gil and I will meet you there after breakfast. Last place I want to be is with four women and two babies while they natter.”

“Six females,” corrected Nevin. “Beth will bring those two miner girls. Trace says they’re eager to help now they have a family, but they get in his way.”

“The Elliotts took in Meggie and Bridie Redmond back before Christmas,” explained Ross. “Their mother died before they came out, then their father broke his back. Before he died, he begged Trace to help his girls.”

“Meggie’s fifteen now,” said Nevin. “Some of the miners were sniffing around her skirts even before her pa got hurt. No one will bother her now.”

That’s what Nevin was doing to her, sniffing around her skirts. She grabbed the chance to escape. “If we’re having guests tomorrow, I’d better go back and help get things ready.”

“You head off home,” said Ross. “Nev and I will be along in a bit.” He dropped his head, raised his eyebrows, and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t think this discussion is over.”

“Don’t let Gil eat all Auntie’s biscuits,” called out Nevin as she turned away.

“Any he doesn’t eat, I will,” she sassed back in relief of escape. She laughed, not quite hysterically.

Would Ross and Nevin really do to her what she’d seen in that book? She kept putting one foot in front of the other until she reached the kitchen steps. Then she saw the pile of wood. Wood for the fire. The hot, burning fire!

A flash of terror raced through her. She braced herself to run. But there was no fire. No burning heat. Just warm sunshine. She collapsed on the step, her face wet with tears of relief. She hadn’t had an attack in ages.

There’s nothing wrong. You’ll get over this.

Of course they had a wood stove in Montana Territory. Unlike the city, wood was free for the taking while coal must be paid for in gold.

She would just have to get over it and learn to make a fire in the stove. Not the fireplace, but she should be able to manage a closed, fireproof stove. She had overcome other things. This was one step on the way. No one needed to know of her fear. She wiped her face with her sleeve and stood.

She put her right boot on the first step, her left on the next. A pile of logs was not going to hurt her unless it had a snake in it or something. She peered at the neat stack of split wood. Who could be more afraid of a cooking fire than a rattlesnake? Getting caught in one fire years ago didn’t mean she’d ever have that happen again. And if she did, she’d survive. Somehow.

She opened the door and stepped in. Gillis sat at the table eating stew, Hope tucked in the crook of his elbow. He dipped his little finger in the bowl, waited for a moment for the broth to cool, then held it out to her. She grabbed hold of his finger with both hands and brought it to her mouth. She gummed his finger until the flavor was gone then squawked for more. Tillie sat in the rocker nursing a dusky child with reddish-brown hair. He was much bigger than Hope. She nodded at an older Indian woman, who must be Auntie.

“Sit. Eat,” said Auntie.

Since she’d had little but cheese and bread on the ride home and no breakfast, her stomach rumbled in agreement. The woman nodded, her eyes bright.

“Thank you,” said Amelia. “Your son is much bigger than Hope,” she said to Tillie.

The young woman beamed back. “He is healthy and strong, like his father.”

“You miss him.”

Tillie nodded. “It is necessary, but he will be back soon. Then we will make another one.” She tickled the baby’s belly. It stopped sucking long enough to smile back then went back to the serious business of eating.

Amelia nodded her thanks and inhaled the fragrance rising from the bowl Auntie set in front of her. She picked up her horn spoon, dipped it, and took a sip. Unfamiliar flavors, strange but wonderful, rolled over her tongue.

“Mmm, Ross was right. You are a wonderful cook.”

“You will learn the plants.”

As Amelia had already decided to do that, she nodded at the order. She was scraping the bottom of her bowl and considering asking for another when two men burst into the room. They argued in a strange language. Auntie lifted her wooden spoon and told them off with the same soft syllables.

“Is that language Bannock?” Amelia asked when Ross and Nevin sat down. Sheepish from whatever their aunt had said, they waited quietly to be served.

“We speak Paiute,” said Ross. He filled his mouth with stew after thanking Auntie.

“Do you speak Gaelic, too?”

“Gillis is fluent,” replied Nevin as Auntie prepared his bowl. “He spent a lot of time with Father and the older brothers. His mother, Phoebe, spoke only Gaelic to him until she died. That’s why he has that terrible accent when he thinks he’s talking English.”

Gil made as if to throw a punch at Nevin for the disparaging comment.

“Ross and me, all we know of Gaelic is the curses Father, Fin, and Hugh threw at us.” He winked at Amelia. “We keep in practice by using them on Gil.”

Gil grunted. He grabbed the last biscuit from the wooden plate.

“Hey, we only had one each,” complained Nevin.

“That’s what happens when ye’re late.” Gillis, Hope still in his arm, stood up. “Thank ye for the meal, ladies. I’ll put the wee lassie down for her nap.” He rested her over his left shoulder and crossed the room.

The tiny baby’s hair was a more golden red than her father’s. She snuggled into his neck, secure in his love. Amelia’s children would have a trio of men, fathers and uncles, to love them. From what Prue said, the Elliotts were the same and behaved as uncles.

“Gillis put your trunks and boxes in the bunkhouse,” said Ross. “Is there anything you need from them?”

“My unmentionables.” She raised an imperious eyebrow at her husband.

“Not gonna happen,” he said, returning the eyebrow threat.

Chapter Thirteen

“Are ye staying for the week?”

Gillis called out the friendly insult as the loaded Elliott wagon rolled to a stop in front of the kitchen. He laughed when the man driving growled something about women.

“That’s Beth and Trace on the seat,” said Ross to Amelia. “In the back is Meggie, holding James, and her sister, Bridie.”

Amelia noticed Ross kept his attention on the two outriders rather than the knife he nonchalantly tossed in smooth arcs. He caught the hilt each time without even looking. The knife was rather large to Amelia’s way of thinking. Ross grumbled when the grinning, handsome, brown-haired man gave her a big wink.

“Nev!” called out the flirt as he eyed Amelia up and down. He dismounted and approached. “Ross is tossing his knife again. He’s not thinking I’ll steal his wife, is he?”

“Not if you want to be welcome upstairs again,” called out Beth.

“But it’s the first time I’ve been able to make old Stoneface nervous,” replied the man, still flashing white teeth at her.

“Jack, you play nice or git home,” growled Trace.

That morning, Gillis had warned her about Trace’s voice, how he was roped by the neck and dragged for saving a woman from three men. It almost killed him, and it broke his voice box. He certainly sounded like a demon from hell that a revival preacher would warn against.

“Don’t mind Jackass,” said a calm voice at her side. She turned to find a tall, black-haired man with warm, gray-green eyes. “Welcome to Tanner’s Ford, Amelia. I’m Simon.” He touched a finger to his hat, winked, and turned to Ross. “Don’t kill Jack until after the house-raising. After that’s all done, you can skin him alive. I’ll even help you hold him down.”

When Beth, helped down from the wagon by Trace, started walking toward them, Ross’s knife disappeared. Eight inches taller than Amelia, Beth barely had to go up on her heels to kiss Ross’s cheek.

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Ross MacDougal. I want all my men’s parts in good working order. I hope you don’t mind us calling you Amelia,” said Beth. “We’re all family, and there’s too many of us with the same name.” Her smile faded. “I’m so sorry that you didn’t get to see Prue before she passed. She loved you very much and was my dear friend.” She looked up, blinking hard. “Dear me, I promised I wouldn’t cry.” She pulled out a hanky and dabbed her eyes.

Amelia had seen the gesture before, but Beth obviously meant it. If what Ross told her was correct, Beth had three husbands. It was an open secret, which meant the town busybodies would know. Perhaps Prudence had been Beth’s only friend.

“You’re welcome to come over anytime for a natter, like before.” Ross turned to Amelia. “You going to invite them inside so we men can get some work done?”

Heat flashed up her face. “Me?”

He patted her bottom, making a show of it and stirring a different kind of heat. “As the only wife, you are the lady of the home.”

“Oh!” She fumbled for something to say. “Please, come inside. I made some lemonade to go with Auntie’s baking.”

“Not yet,” growled Trace. He stalked over to Beth. He stared at her as his long legs covered the ground. Her color rose as he approached.

“Trace Elliott, you are not going to—”

“Hush, woman. Girls, bring James inside.”

Meggie and Bridie giggled and waved as they passed. Trace wrapped his arms around Beth and kissed her. Not a peck that a husband of many years would provide, but a deep, thorough job. Amelia licked her dry lips as she watched. She’d never seen a kiss like that though she’d imagined them. Beth reeled when Trace backed away. He’d untied her bonnet strings, grinning. She grabbed it to keep it from sliding to the ground.

“No, Jack,” said Trace as Jack lifted his foot. “You said good-day. Time to get home. There’s a stack of boards needing cutting for that addition.”

“If I can’t kiss Beth, neither can Simon,” said Jack. He produced a pout a two-year-old would be proud of.

“Last one home makes dinner,” called Simon. He leaped on his horse and raced downhill. Jack followed, whooping and hollering with a more sedate Gillis at the rear.

“No, they never stop,” sighed Beth, answering Amelia’s unasked question. “Pray you never have twins, especially boys. They never grow up, always trying to one-up each other.”

“I’ve never met twins before,” said Amelia.

“I haven’t yet met Ben and Ranger, the second set of Elliott twin boys,” said Beth. “Along with Patrick, they plan to drive in a herd of cattle sometime this fall. For everyone’s sake, I hope at least one of them brings a wife.”

“Not likely,” said Trace. “Ben’s too hepped up about his lawyering, Ranger’s too hard for a woman, and Patrick too shy.” He lifted an eyebrow to Ross, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Trace leaned over and kissed Amelia’s cheek. “Nice meeting you, Amelia.”

He groped Beth’s bottom as he passed. She shook her fist at him with one hand while rubbing her cheek with the other. He made a strange noise, which Amelia realized was laughter.

“Beth,” said Ross. He barely brushed her cheek before turning to Amelia. “Let’s see if we can top Trace,” he murmured in her ear.

He grasped her bottom cheeks and lifted, holding her pressed against his erection. She instantly reacted, reaching her arms around his neck. She stretched her knees around his hips as best she could in her dress. He ground himself against her. They’d only had relations once the night before. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, eager for more sensation.

“Looks like you got yourself the right type of wife.”

The deep, grating growl smashed through Amelia’s red fog of lust. Gasping, she pushed herself away from Ross. She fought to get her feet on the ground, but he held her tight.

“Hold on a minute, wife. I wasn’t finished.”