Their Wayward Bride (2 page)

I couldn't take another moment over the horse; the woman was now my
concern. Lifting her easily, I turned and followed my tracks back to
the door. It would only be a matter of time before they disappeared.
The wind wasn't as strong returning.

"So...cold," she murmured.

She was alive!

"I've got you," I replied. "In just a minute you're
going to be nice and warm again. Just stay awake for me, sweetheart."

"You...you smell good," she slurred.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her words. Clearly she was out of her
mind, for what woman would admit that while in such a predicament?

She wasn't a slight woman. I could feel her curves beneath my arms.
It was her stillness that had me hastening my steps. Finally! The
warm glow of the kitchen lantern came into view.

"Almost there, sweetheart."

I kicked the door with my foot. Once, twice.

Brody opened it right away. "Holy bloody hell," he
muttered, stepping back to let me enter.

"Here. Take her."

I handed her off to a surprised Brody, his eyes widening when I'd
said the word
her
and even further when he, too, felt her
woman's shape.

CHAPTER TWO

BRODY

I stood in the kitchen, holding a woman. Stunned. Mason had gone back
outside because he thought he heard a horse—I figured it had been
the deceiving sound of the wind—and came back with a woman. Yes,
she most surely was a woman. The size of her, the feel of her soft
curves, even through her coat, provided no doubts. She was covered
head to toe—boots, long dress, wool coat, a scarf that came down
low over her face. I could see nothing of her skin, only
feel
her femininity. Her attire was no match for the fierce weather. What
was she doing out in this storm? Why was she here, on Bridgewater?
Where had she come from?

"Is she dead?" I asked Mason, who stripped off his gloves
and coat. She was freezing cold and the snow that covered her began
to dampen my shirt.

"No," he replied, breathing hard.

This spurred me into action. Spinning around, I gently placed her on
the large kitchen table and started to rid her of her layers of
clothes.

I worked the scarf from her head, unwinding it and dropping the damp
item to the floor and she moaned. It made me pause. "I just want
to sleep," she mumbled.

Her face was pale, so pale, and her were lips leeched of all color.
If she slept now, she might die. We had to warm her up and keep her
awake. "Oh, no. No sleeping," I said.

Her hair was a fiery red, a bun at the nape of her neck with wild
tendrils falling over her face, the tips of some coated in snow and
ice. I touched her cheek. It was icy cold.

"Mmm," she said and tilted her head into my fingers.

I looked up at Mason, who'd come to stand across from me, the woman
between us on the table. "Get a quilt from the other room. Sit
it on top of the stove to warm. It's not hot enough now to burn."

Her life was in our hands. I went down to her feet to take off her
boots, but ice encrusted the laces. I grabbed a large kitchen knife
and cut through them. I tossed the knife onto the stove with a
clatter, tugging one boot off, then the other.

"Wait," she called out, shifting on the table. "What
are you doing?" Her eyes opened and she looked at me, confused
and lost. Her eyes were so green, so clear.

"You're cold and wet, and some of you clothes are covered in
ice. We need to get you warm."

I didn't wait and discuss this further; it was a matter of life and
death. Next came her heavy stockings, tied with a ribbon just above
her knees.

Mason returned with two quilts, one he laid on the stove, the other
on the chair beside him. He nimbly worked the other stocking free, as
I undid the buttons of her coat.

"Who are you?" she asked, starting to shiver. That was a
good sign.

"I'm Brody and you are on our land. Mason found you."

"Thank you," she said. "I thought I would die out
there."

"No dying on us, sweetheart," Mason told her. "But
we're going to have to take your clothes off."

She looked between us as she shook her head. "No, I'll do it
myself." Her fingers worked at the buttons on her coat. "I...I
can't feel my fingers. They're numb."

"Let us help." I gently nudged her hands away and finished
her task for her.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," Mason murmured, helping me to
prop her up and slip the coat from her arms.

"I don't think I've ever seen hair that color before," I
responded.

"It's red," she grumbled.

She spoke the words as if the color was terrible. It was like fire,
with burnished gold and bronze mixed in. The places that were damp
were darker, yet it was clear it was quite curly, even with the
length of it tucked up into a bun.

Mason held her upper body as I struggled with the buttons down the
front of her dress.

"You shouldn't be—"

"What's your name?" Mason asked.

"Laurel."

"Laurel, your clothes are wet and you must get warm. Aren't you
cold?"

She nodded and another shiver wracked her.

"Then let us take care of you," I soothed. "You're
safe with us."

I began once again, but was quickly frustrated it took so long, so I
yanked at the material and the buttons went skittering across the
room. Underneath, she wore a corset and I worked the stays free.

"This isn't appropriate. I've never...I'm cold." She was
confused and tired and clearly affected by the cold. Her modesty was
a sign that she was thinking somewhat clearly, but her need for
warmth overrode her anxiety.

"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.