Barefoot Bride for Three Read online

  Jack lifted a dark eyebrow. “And why, pray tell, did our industrious sheriff lock milady away?”

  “Beth fought back when Big Joe Sheldrake wanted to claim her. She gave him her knee and, while he was bending over, kicked him in the ass. Frank took her boots and locked her up for her own protection. If she’d had those boots on when I first saw her, Charlie’d still be screaming.”

  “I can protect myself!”

  “You don’t have to anymore,” said Trace quietly. “The Elliott men will take care of you.”

  A silent signal shot from one brother to another but she couldn’t decipher it.

  “We surely will,” said Jack. “Don’t mind missing the wedding since you’re bringing her home for the honeymoon.” Jack wiped the sweat off his forehead and settled his hat back in place.

  “Tell Sy there’ll be four at supper,” said Trace.

  “Bet he already knows,” replied Jack with a quick grin. His eyes sparkled along with the smile. As Trace said, he was a man for the ladies. “You know my twin. He went after a bee tree up there.” Jack pointed to the north. “He’d see the wagon dust and check it out.”

  “Um, when would he have looked?” Beth held her breath.

  “Soon’s you got on Elliott land he’d have his spyglass out. Why?”

  Beth’s heart beat faster than when Trace’s magic fingers caressed her. “When we stopped to water the horses you said we were on Elliott land,” she whispered to Trace. “Do you think he saw us?”

  “If you were doin’ what I think you were, any red-blooded man would watch, ma’am!” Jack, with a wide, knowing smile, doffed his hat. He turned his horse and sped off, taking what must be a short-cut home.

  “Huh,” said Trace with an innocence she knew was false. “I told Simon not to go hunting a bee tree. Dang boy never did listen.”

  “Aren’t you upset your brother might have seen us doing…that?”

  Trace slid his right hand into her shirt using the gap between her neck and bosom. He brushed her hard nipples, causing her to shiver.

  “Nope. The boy’s seen naked women before. He’ll get over it.”

  She arched her back when he kneaded her breast, her breathing erratic. “I don’t care about that. Doesn’t it bother you that another man saw me?” She was doomed. Jack had looked at her just like Trace did before he undressed her.

  She fought back a moan when Trace moved his hand from her bottom to her front. He gently pressed her legs apart to reach her core. When he touched her like this she couldn’t think, much less talk. She gave in to a moan, leaning back and spreading her knees while he stroked her. His nostrils flared and he grinned when he found the sweet spot between her legs soaking. She closed her eyes against his self-satisfied look.

  “He’s not another man, Beth. He’s my brother.” He sent two fingers into her, curling them forward against a wonderful spot.

  “Why…Oh yes! Why is that different?”

  “You’ll be living with all of us. They’re going to see you naked.”

  “What?” She forced her eyes open and stared up at him. His eyes were half closed, like a cat full of cream dozing by the fire. But the fire was in his touch.

  “What if Simon saw you riding me?”

  He lightly stroked her clit. She shivered and clenched her thighs, capturing his hand. He rasped a chuckle. She hadn’t known this magical feeling existed when Trace protected her in the jail. Last night, this morning, and again by the stream, he’d shown her the rapture possible between a man and a woman. She craved his touch. But now she felt a pull to his brothers. She should be ashamed rather than eager.

  “Thinking about Sy watching makes you wet, don’t it? And you’re wondering about Jack, too.”

  “Um…”

  “Don’t hide it, sweetheart. Your nipple was hard before I touched you.”

  Her mind whirled. What could she say? She knew wives were beaten for merely smiling in thanks when a man held the door. Trace leaned over and locked his dark eyes on to hers, holding her tight.

  “Jack and Simon want you as much as I do, Beth. You’re the only woman they’ve seen since before winter. We won’t force you. But it isn’t right if three brothers live in one house with a woman, and only one man gets pleasure.” His lips rose in the sensual smile that melted her insides. “Especially if she can get pleasure from all of them.”

  She pressed her lips tight, refusing to understand his words. He gently brushed a knuckle over her cheek.

  “If any other man touches you, he’s dead. But we’ve shared everything since Ma and Pa died. Everything. You’re an Elliott now. I want you to think about what that means.”

  Trace set her on the seat beside him. For the rest of the journey he watched the road, saying nothing. She twitched and fidgeted the whole way. Trace’s straining pants told her how much he wanted her. His brothers would be the same. What if their touch made her as wild?

  She’d exploded every time his hands, mouth, and manhood did those wonderful things to her. What would it be like to have three men bring her pleasure?

  * * * *

  Beth made sure every button was secure before the horses started up the last rise. Her new home was far bigger than the cabin Trace had mentioned, but she paid little attention. All she saw were the two big men waiting. As Trace said, Simon and Jack were not identical twins. Simon’s hair was black and scruffy like Trace’s while Jack’s was brown and neat. Their clean-shaven faces, lighter where beards had stopped the sun, showed a few recent nicks.

  “Welcome home, Mrs. Elliott. I’m Simon. You sure are pretty.”

  She could tell from Simon’s knowing smile that he’d watched when they played. She burned wherever his eyes lingered. Trace lifted her down from the wagon. Her feet had barely touched down when he swooped her into his arms. He carried her into her new home and set her down facing the door.

  “Time to kiss the new bride,” said Jack, rubbing his hands and grinning.

  “Later, boys,” said Trace. “That wagon needs emptying.”

  When the three of them left she crossed her fingers. Having spent three days in jail while the local ne’er-do-wells dropped by, she could imagine what a house with three bachelors looked like. She turned around.

  “Oh my!”

  She stood in an open area facing stairs. The floor was dirty, of course, but far from the muddy mess she expected. Even better, it was made of wood and not pounded dirt. To her right was a kitchen with a long table and benches. On her left was a dusty parlor. Feeling as if she should tiptoe, she stepped down the narrow hall to the left of the stairs. Behind the parlor she found a room with a double bed, rocking chair, and dresser with mirror. Trace’s bedroom, now hers as well?

  None of the rooms had doors. She returned to the kitchen to find Simon placing the half-empty picnic basket on the recently scrubbed table.

  “Me and Jack sleep upstairs,” he said without looking at her. He went back out for another load.

  That meant she’d share the doorless bedroom with her husband. Wouldn’t a married couple have more privacy upstairs? But exploring could wait for more urgent matters. When she hurried out the door Trace pointed at the privy and she eagerly went to it. She almost cried when she discovered it also lacked a door. Worse, it had boards across the bottom. She had to lift her skirts high to step over. At least the open door faced away from the house. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, did her business quickly, and returned to the pump to wash her hands.

  “We took off the door as soon as it warmed up since it gets a bit high in there after winter,” said Jack, “but we can put it back on for you.”

  “It’s hard to step over that barrier in skirts,” she replied.

  “Better than having a porcupine chaw away at the salt on the seat. That’ll give you slivers in your ass.” Jack’s eyes lit up. “I’d be mighty proud to help get them out anytime you want.”

  She pretended she hadn’t heard him. She followed the men into her new home. They placed fabr
ics and notions in the parlor and food in the kitchen. She stoked up the fire for a bracing cup of tea, then investigated the pantry. After the long winter many empty jars and stoneware crocks waited refilling, sitting upside down to keep vermin out. A few clear jars still held fruit, vegetables or sausages. She hoped there was potted meat in some of the crocks for a quick dinner.

  “No work for you today,” said Trace. He set down the last case of empty Mason jars. “It’s Sy’s turn to cook. You put your feet up while we finish the barn chores.” He ushered her into the parlor. “I want you wide awake after supper. Tonight will be another first for us.”

  He left the room with a wink before his brothers caught them together. If Trace said to rest, she might as well take advantage of it. This might be the last time she’d be off duty.

  She ran her finger though a thick layer of dust on a sturdy bookcase. Ewall’s Medical Companion sat on the top shelf with Pike’s Arithmetic and Byerly’s Speller. A line of McGuffey’s readers finished the row. The next shelf held her favorites, the collected works of Shakespeare. With six sons, the Robinson Crusoe and Don Quixote would be popular.

  Trace’s mother must have been a strong woman to raise all those boys and a daughter. She’d love to have seven children of her own. But there’d be laughter in her home, not the icy silence or furious fists she’d grown up with. She lifted a dust sheet off the horsehair sofa and settled back. She’d close her eyes for a moment, then make that cup of tea.

  Nibbling lips roused her. She opened her eyes, relieved to discover her husband leaning over her. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

  “The boys hung a curtain,” he said, pointing to their bedroom. How had she slept through someone nailing up an old white sheet?

  She followed Trace into the kitchen, wrinkling her nose at the smell of burned food. Jack and Simon stood up from the bench opposite her. The air disappeared from the room and her womanly parts melted.

  All three men were ruggedly handsome, tall, dark, and broad. Trace’s eyes were almost black, Simon’s a gray-green and Jack’s were brown. All three sets followed her every breath. She crossed her arms to hide her swollen nipples but fooled no one, as proved by their knowing smiles.

  Trace could see how they looked at her, eager for her attention, but he said nothing. He held out the one chair for her. When she sat he leaned down. Holding her face with both hands, he kissed her. She knew he did it to brand her once more but she concentrated on his lips and their sensual caress. When he released her, he gently squeezed her breast. He strolled to the other end of the table and found his stool, leaving her gasping.

  She dropped her burning face and stared at her clasped fingers, white with strain. Jack offered a platter of flat, black biscuits. The smell made her veer back. She shook her head.

  “You burned the biscuits again, Sy,” complained Jack. “They’re so bad, the missus can’t eat them.”

  It wasn’t just the food. The tension around the table made her stomach clench. No matter how hungry, she couldn’t force a bite down.

  “I need to know if the golden angel Sy says has the bottom of Aphrodite, can cook,” said Jack.

  Beth glared at Simon who lifted his shoulders and held his hands out as if to say “how could I not tell him”. She groaned, set her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. He didn’t say “body,” but “bottom.” He watched them, all right. The same heat that Trace created rose from below her belly.

  “I asked about her cooking, but she wouldn’t tell me,” said Trace. He frowned at the black disk in his hand and banged it against the table. Not a flake chipped off. He spooned into his wooden bowl what must be stew. He offered the pot to her but she shook her head. Just the sight of it made her shudder.

  Simon wrinkled his nose at the steaming bowl in front of him, then pushed it away. “When will she share her secrets with us?” he asked.

  Reading more into the comment, Beth flicked her eyes to him.

  All innocence, he smiled politely and turned to Trace. “Cooking secrets, I mean.”

  Trace shoved his bowl to the side. “Beth will share when she’s ready.”

  She looked at her lap where her fingers knotted together as if she prayed. Trace already showed her more caring, affection, and respect than anyone had previously. He’d also shown her why a woman would work hard all day just to get the glory her husband provided at night. She looked up and caught his quick wink. He smiled behind his eyes, not to make a fool of her in front of his brothers but to show they were a team.

  In their wedding vows, Trace promised to bed, breed, and care for her the best he could. Beth’s fingers tightened, turning red and white from the pressure. She’d been so smug about not promising to obey Trace that she’d not thought about what she had promised. To take Trace into her bed and to care for him and his family and whatever children she produced. When he said there’d never be love, he also promised no Elliott would force her. She thought he meant cleaning stable muck off their boots or cooking prairie oysters when she couldn’t even stand the look or feel of regular ones.

  What man would share his wife with his brothers, without jealousy? No matter how far out in the wilderness, there were rules to be followed. Weren’t there? She’d sworn never to have a marriage like her parents’, with the man controlling every aspect of their life. Her father gave nothing but orders, and her mother meekly went along. Her father did everything to be accepted by the highest levels of society no matter the cost. Selling his eldest daughter to get out of a debt was nothing to dear Papa. He fit right in with his lying, cheating, brutal friends. They said one thing and did another. At least the Elliott men were honest about what they wanted.

  Her.

  Could she be honest with herself?

  She liked what Trace did to her. More than that, she craved it. She couldn’t imagine going through life without writhing under his fingers and tongue. The way he entered her so forcefully, face grimacing before he croaked his pleasure, made her eager to share marital relations.

  Would the desire ever slow down? Simon stretched out his leg, his warm thigh rubbing against hers. An eager ache high between her thighs made her want to rub herself. Even better would be Trace’s hard cock sliding into her.

  What would Simon’s feel like? She stared at his hand, watching his curled index finger glide up and down the handle of his carved spoon. Her mouth had slid over Trace’s hot cock like that a few hours ago.

  She reached for her water, letting her arm touch her breasts’ hard tips as she moved. Like scratching a mosquito bite, it felt good for a moment, but she immediately wanted to do it again. Finally noticing the heavy silence, she lifted her eyes.

  Three pair of eager eyes stared at her erect nipples. Three sets of nostrils flared whenever she inhaled. Her breasts tingled as the blood flowed into them. She clenched her inside muscles but it did nothing to ease her ache.

  “Trace, I…”

  He immediately stood behind her, his broad hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t let you get much sleep last night, Beth. You need to rest for later.”

  She groaned inside. Why did he have to say that? Did he enjoy baiting his brothers? Both of them shifted as if their pants were too tight.

  Trace drifted a finger over her cheek. “I have something for you. I think it will fit.”

  He kissed her temple and left the room. She looked at her lap so she wouldn’t see the eager pleading eyes of his brothers. She heard a drawer open in the parlor. Papers rustled, and then it closed again. Trace took the few steps necessary from the parlor to the kitchen. He dropped to one knee at her left side. She looked down at his wide smile.

  He brought his palm up and showed her the box sitting there. He opened it. A gold ring nestled on white satin.

  “Beth, will you be my wife?”

  She stared at the ring, then at her husband. Her gulp was loud in the room.

  “I know the wedding wasn’t what a woman dreams of. I’m not either. But th
is was my great-grandmother’s ring. Will you wear it?”

  She nodded, blinking to hold back tears. He took her left hand and slid the ring on her third finger. It was a bit loose but would fit once she gained back the weight she’d lost.

  He stood up, leaned over, and took her face in his hands again. She closed her eyes to savor the light scratch of his moustache over soft lips on her cheek. His lips hardened, pressing hers open and entering her eager mouth. She burned for him, forgetting everything but her need for more. When he pulled away, she swayed, glad she was sitting down.

  “You’re so hot, Beth. Let me help you cool down.”

  He’d undone her buttons, all the way to the swell of her breasts, before she could stammer a refusal. He winked and slipped a rough hand over her breasts, chafing her nipple. She closed her eyes at the grins across the table and bit back a moan.

  “I’ll give you a cool sponge bath while the boys clean up.”

  “But…”

  Hand under her elbow, he escorted her from the room. She tried to explain that she couldn’t undress with two strangers in the next room and only a cloth for a door, but he wouldn’t listen.

  “They’re not strangers, Beth. They’re my brothers. You undressed for me on our wedding night.”

  “But you were my husband!” She hissed, trying to keep his busy hands from her buttons. No such luck. He had her down to boots in no time flat. Soon she was stark naked, and stark raving mad to have come here.

  Until she met Trace, no man had ever looked at her as he did. His eyes devoured her, his need for her new but demanding. Her nipples crinkled hard under his gaze. He smiled, slow and sure, as her body instantly reacted.

  He was her husband. He owned her. Every inch, inside and out. No matter that he made her flush with embarrassment, he wouldn’t beat her. Instead, he gave her pleasure. If he wanted his brothers to help her scream her release, it was still far better than screaming in pain with Big Joe. She could do this. She could pretend she was married to them all.

  But not yet!

  “Wait here. I’ll get some warm water and a cloth. No, I want to do this for you,” he continued when she tried to protest.