Their Harlot Bride (Bridgewater Brides #7) - Golden Angel Page 0,2

be the one driving, for once, I didn’t fight him on it. He was already on edge over the woman arriving today. He couldn’t control who she was, what she looked like, or what kind of wife she’d be, but he could control the horses. Over the years, I’d learned to pick my battles. Sometimes, I thought he still saw me as the scrawny teenager I’d been when he’d rescued me from the gang of men intent on stealing my week’s pay.

Back then, he’d been twenty-two, four years older than me, bigger and stronger than most young men his age. With regular meals and working the ranch we shared, I’d caught up to him in weight and muscle, but he didn’t seem to notice, and to be truthful, I had trouble pushing him on it. Since I owed him my life, was it really too much to let him take the lead when it was something that didn’t matter much?

He was more than my partner—he was the brother I’d never had and the man I was going to share my wife with, in the Bridgewater manner. When we’d heard about Bridgewater and the way they married, two men to one woman, we’d known it was the place for us. We shared everything else, so it just made sense.

Today, I was getting my way, and our new wife was arriving. My dick was already hardening in anticipation. It had been far too long since we’d had a woman between us. I doubted any woman would be ready to jump in the middle of us immediately, but we would enjoy working her up to it and drowning her with pleasure in the meantime. When I answered him, there was no bite to my tone because I’d already won.

“There was nothing wrong with the ad. At least I didn’t say she had to come with a horse like Justin and Caleb did.”

Of course, somehow, they’d received an answer to their ad before we had, so the requirement hadn’t set them back. I still didn’t know why my ad had taken longer to find us a woman, but it had worked in the end, and that was what was important.

Clive sent me a mulish look, his dark eyes full of skepticism before he flicked the reins, getting the horses started down the lane. It felt odd to be on the wagon rather than horseback, but it made the most sense. We had no way of knowing whether or not our bride could ride, and she’d likely be arriving with luggage. It would also be easier to talk to her and get to know her a bit better if she was seated between us for the ride home.

I knew part of Clive’s worry came from the unknown. Literally, everything about Miss Sassy McCloud was unknown to us except her name. I found it exciting—Clive didn’t.

If she met the requirements of the ad, we’d both be happy.

Owners of the NorthWest Ranch in Bridgewater, Montana Territory, desire a wife, age eighteen to twenty-five, pretty, healthy, and able to work hard. In return, wife will be cherished and protected. No portrait necessary.

Neither of us had a preference for weight, height, hair color, eye color… we liked women. Period. Even though Clive could never be described as easygoing, I figured we could make it work with any woman sent our way if she was of the right age and constitution.

Clive

* * *

William was getting that dreamy-eyed look on his face again, and I didn’t know whether to sigh or smack him on the back of his fool head to knock some sense into him. The boy was a romantic and an optimist, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but could grate on me when he ignored the realities of a situation.

Like right now.

He truly thought we were going to walk up to the train station in Travis Point and find a pretty little thing waiting for us, and we’d both fall head over heels in love with her and she with us. Then we’d get hitched in town, take her to the hotel, and pleasure her all night long.

Well… that last part didn’t sound so bad, but I had no illusions about life. More likely, we were about to meet a woman with a face like a horse and the temperament of a shrew. My cock might not be able to even rise to the occasion. Sure, the other women who had come west to marry the men of

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