Their Captivated Bride (Bridgewater Menage Series Book 3) (5 page)

"I felt it when I met your uncle." Belinda's words had me turning back to her and I saw the love bright in her eyes, in the wide smile. "And again when I met Roger. I wanted them both and they wanted me."

"But it's so...wrong." I covered my face with my hands, and then pulled them away as I realized my blunder, tears sliding down my cheeks. "Oh, Belinda, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean your marriage was wrong—"

She held up her hands, a simple gold ring on her left ring finger and a similar one on her right. I had never known what the one on her right hand was for until now. She had one for each one of her husbands. "It's all right. This is overwhelming for you. Quite a terrible night, but look." She waved her hand toward the three Bridgewater men. "They are here for you."

"I...I don't even know them," I admitted.

I felt even worse now, for the men just looked at me with seriousness, yet a hint of concern shone in their eyes. While one I'd never even spoken with, the other two
had
been remarkably kind.

"How can you
give
me to strangers?" I asked Uncle Allen as I wiped the tears on my cheeks

"You said you felt a connection, a spark with them, that you were worried about being attracted to two men at the same time. Your head my be telling you it is wrong, but your heart will always tell the truth."

I chanced a glimpse at Mr. Rhys and Mr. Cross, one's eyebrows went up, the other smiled broadly.

"Is that true, love, that you are attracted to me and Cross?" Rhys asked. I noticed the term of endearment he used and it didn't feel dirty like it had when Mr. Peters had called me ‘sweetheart.’

"It's all right," Melinda said, urging me to share my feelings.

Reassured by her smile, I nodded.

At that, the three men stepped forward. "May we have some time alone with Olivia before the minister comes?" Cross asked Uncle Allen.

He gave his assent and stood. Melinda gave me a quick hug and left, holding hands with her two husbands.
Two husbands!

I felt so incredibly uncomfortable standing alone in a room with three men, strangers, who were going to marry me. Not one, not two, but three! I couldn't look at them and had no idea what to say, so I kept my gaze firmly on the Oriental rug at my feet and my hands clenched together in front of me.

"Come here, Olivia," one of them murmured. I looked up and saw that it was Cross who had spoken. He sat down on the sofa where my uncle had been. "Please," he added.

His voice was calm, his eyes gentle. I glanced at the other two who gave slight nods of encouragement. I swallowed at the way they towered over me. I felt dwarfed beside them and should have cowered at their domineering presence, but instead it made me feel as if I was sheltered, that they blocked out the entire world; Mr. Peters, the fire, even Uncle Allen's surprising pronouncement.

I took the final step to Cross, but instead of sitting beside him, he took my hand and tugged me down onto his lap.

"Oh!" I cried at the feel of his hard thighs beneath my bottom. His arms came about me and pulled me in so I was sheltered, my cheek against his chest. I could hear the steady beat of his heart and his clean scent swirled around me. This was the first time I'd ever been held by a man and I felt the hot jolt once again. He was so warm and yet I shivered. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time.

"Mr. Cross, we shouldn't—"

"We should," he countered. "And my name is just Cross."

The other men came closer, Mr. Rhys sat next to us on the sofa and Mr. McPherson moved a desk chair and placed it directly before us. They surrounded me and there was no escape, however they still did not feel threatening and I truly did not wish to move.

"This lightning, explain," Mr. Rhys said.

His dark eyes watched me carefully.

"It's a feeling, when you meet the right person," I replied. "Uncle Allen wanted to ensure I didn't compromise on the man I was to marry."

"You felt it with me?" I could see the hope in his eyes. Was the feeling reciprocated?

I nodded.

"And with me?" Mr. Cross—Cross—asked. His chin rested lightly on top of my head.

Were they always this direct? Always so open about their feelings? Weren't men supposed to be the ones who never shared or showed any kind of emotion?

I scrunched up my face and squeezed my eyes shut, dreading voicing my own feelings aloud. "Yes," I exhaled quickly.

I didn't want to look at them, to see the horror or the amusement or the disgust on their faces at admitting my feelings for two men. Would they consider me loose and immoral?

"And what about me, lass? Think ye can feel something for me as well?" Mr. McPherson's words were thickly accented, so much so that the word
well
sounded more like
wheel.

I peeked out from around Cross' arm to look at Mr. McPherson. Gone was the look of a harsh warrior, a man ready to conquer the world and slay dragons as necessary. Instead, it was a man with the corner of his mouth tipped up and question in his eyes. He was the biggest of the three men, with dark hair that was overly long, a square jaw and a blunt nose that had a crook in it. He was handsome in a rugged, brutish sort of way, but when he looked at me so endearingly, I could see he was gentle as well.

I could also discern the worry on his face, for it seemed these men did things together, including marriage, and if I did not like all of them, one would be lost, perhaps cast adrift and alone. Mr. McPherson had much riding on my answer. In that moment I realized perhaps I could hurt him more than someone as sinister as Mr. Peters.

"I cannot say, for I do not know you."

"Then we will change that," he murmured.

"You don't think there's something wrong with me then? I am not wanton," I stated baldly.

Simon's gaze lowered to my lips, then raked over my body. "Nay, lass, we dinna ken a thing wrong with ye."

Cross shifted me in his arms so that my head rested against his arm and he was looking down at me. "You can be wanton for us any time you wish," he offered, then said with more seriousness, "I felt it, too, Olivia, when we were dancing, and having you now in my arms...."

I saw something flare in his eyes, bright and hot, before he looked at my mouth. "I am going to kiss you."

He didn't give me time to think, or to refuse, or to even push myself from his arms before his mouth lowered to mine. His lips were warm and soft and gentle as they brushed over mine as if he were learning the curve of my lower lip, the corners of my mouth. All at once I felt hot all over and I was quite glad he held me so surely, for I would have slid off his lap and onto the floor otherwise.

To my surprise, my eyes had fallen shut and I had to open them to look up at him, at the first man to kiss me and saw him smile. "Again," he murmured, then kissed me once more, this time deeper, which elicited a surprised gasp from me and he used that to his advantage, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

His tongue!

The idea was stunning and yet this was most definitely what wanton felt like. Tentatively, I touched mine to his and it was Cross' turn to groan. The sound had my heart pounding, had me feeling triumphant that I could actually please him with a simple kiss.

"Share," Rhys grumbled.

I felt Cross smile against my lips before he pulled back and propped me upright in his arms. "Ah, it seems I am not the only one who wishes to kiss you, love."

I knew my cheeks were bright red, for it was one thing for a woman to have her first kiss, it was another altogether to do it with two other men watching. So enraptured, I'd completely forgotten they were there.

Was I supposed to just get up and move on to the next man? It seemed awkward and very bold to do so. Before I could decide what I should do, Rhys pulled me out of Cross' arms and onto his own lap. He grinned down at me, the look wicked and friendly at the same time. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you at the dance."

I frowned. "I thought...I thought you were mad at me for questioning your honor."

"We have a higher standard to which you are accustomed, but no, I was not mad."

"Then you are willing to marry a woman just because you want to kiss her?"

He ran his knuckles over my cheek. "I want to do more than just kiss you."

I had a vague idea to what he referred and I was equally pleased and petrified.

"It's like you said, love. I just knew."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. He’d seemed so indifferent when the dance had ended. Then I remembered his vehement demand that I promise to seek his help if needed, and felt better.

He lowered his head and said, "Truly." I could feel the words against my lips then only the delectable pressure of his mouth on mine. Other than his lips on mine, the two kisses were completely different. Where Cross coaxed and played, Rhys delved and claimed. He angled his lips over mine and plunged his tongue into my mouth as if he needed me to breathe, as if he put his all into the kiss. My hands tangled in his hair, the feeling of silk slipping through my fingers. He tasted of peppermint, completely different than Cross. Even his scent was different. My skin tingled on my chin where his whiskers rasped.

"Does it feel as if we are strangers, love?" he asked, his nose brushing against mine.

I put my hands to my lips. They felt swollen and slick and hot.

"It feels as if you belong to me. To us. You are ours."

My body...it felt as if, as if...I couldn't explain it. I felt...hot and relaxed and tense and desperate and needy and confused and so many other things all at the same time. Beneath that, though, I felt...home. It was as if these men were familiar to me yet completely new all at the same time. It was quite strange and I did not readily understand, and as I felt prone to babble when nervous or overwhelmed, I decided it was best if I remained silent.

"Ye will have three husbands, lass, nae two." Simon murmured, the fiercest looking of the bunch, held out his hand in the space between us and sat patiently waiting. His dark pants were drawn tight over well muscled thighs and his shirt—snug over his broad shoulders—only defined how broad, how big, how, oh, enticing he was. He was letting me decide when, and if, I'd come to him next.

The room was quiet; only the ticking of a clock on the mantel and my soft panting breaths could be heard. Where my uncle and his...family went, I had no idea. I met Simon's dark eyes, searched for something, anything that indicated that he would treat me falsely, that he had less honor or integrity than the others.

I had to trust that these feelings I had were an accurate indicator of these men—
men
—being right for me. I'd waited for it all my life and now, once it happened, I was uncertain. I had to take a blind leap of faith, and Simon, Cross and Rhys were as well. They were sure, so very sure of this match and I was as much a stranger to them.

I climbed from Rhys' lap and placed my hand in Simon's. Placed my faith, my blind trust and hopefully my heart with him. With all three of them.

CHAPTER FOUR

SIMON

It was right then, when she looked at me with those ice blue eyes that held such nervousness, fear and hope that I kent Rhys and Cross were correct. She was the one for us. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. The dark hair and light eyes was a striking combination. While she was covered from neck to floor in her uncle's heavy and unflattering robe, I'd caught a quick glimpse of her in her own flimsy nightclothes and had seen her woman's shape. She was so small that I seemed a giant in comparison and I would feel terrible if I hurt her with even the most gentle of touches. How was she going to handle three men whose sexual needs were prolific enough where we would make almost constant use of her body? She would love it, we would ensure that, but just looking at her had a cock stand press painfully against my pants.

There was nae question to her virtue; the woman was a virgin and a very innocent one at that. I'd wager a bottle of the finest Scottish whiskey that she'd just had her verra first kiss, her first contact with a man. With men. Now I knew why my brothers—while our brotherhood was nae from blood, we were brothers nonetheless—were so adamant about her at the saloon. I would have reacted the same, ye ken. Nae harm would come to her again, nae while I was alive. And if I died protecting her, I would ken that Rhys and Cross would be there for her. That was the way in Mohamir and we respected the practice enough to want to live it ourselves. It had only been a dream, until now.

Now, Olivia's hand was in mine and I knew she was offering up more than just a simple touch. She was giving me things she didn't even know we would take. With that came trust and I wouldna do anything to tarnish that. Instead of setting her upon my lap as the other two had, I pulled her into the cradle of my legs so she stood directly before me, placing her hand on my chest. I wanted her at ease with me, a complete stranger.

As I held her gaze, my hands moved to her waist and they spanned her completely, my thumbs touching in the front, fingers at her spine. Her breath escaped in shallow pants and her eyes widened.