Barefoot Bride for Three Read online

  “Miss Lily has an eye for what a man wants to see.” Sophie sighed. “Maybe one day she’ll find something like that for my wedding night.”

  A sharp rap on the door made her jump. The handle rattled but Sophie had bolted the door.

  “Where’s my bride?” The growl was unmistakable.

  “Keep your pants on,” replied Sophie. “Mrs. Elliott needs time to get ready for her first night with you. You’ll have the rest of your lives together so have patience.”

  “I want to start that life now!” Though the deep voice demanded action, neither woman jumped to obey.

  “She’ll be ready when she’s ready. Did you get a wedding ring or a bride present yet?”

  “Wedding ring’s at home.” The floor creaked as he shifted his feet. “My wife can pick a present from the mercantile in the morning.”

  A thrill went through Beth at the thought of a present. Would he allow her to get material for a new dress? Not anything fancy, but she’d only brought two, both ugly. She wanted to burn the one she’d worn in jail along with the humiliating memories. The sheriff kindly returned her boots, well shined, with a pair of stockings from his wife.

  “Beth?” This time his voice crooned, making her shiver and not in fear. “Make that tomorrow afternoon at the mercantile. You’ll stay in my bed until then.”

  The low chuckle following his footsteps down the hallway raised Beth’s nipples as her breasts swelled in anticipation, though she wasn’t sure of what. She bit her lip, staring at the door.

  “Never thought Trace Elliott would find a woman who wasn’t afraid of him.” Grinning, Sophie shook her head and sighed. “Most girls take one look at his huge body, piercing eyes, and broken voice and run to their mamas. But you want the man.”

  Beth didn’t deny it. “Why would anyone be afraid of him?”

  “Why?” Sophie backed away to look up at Beth’s reflection. “Even with your size, if that man slapped you with his big hand, you’d fly across the room and smash into a wall. And that voice, like the croaking of a raven just waiting for someone to die so it can peck out your eyes.” Sophie smiled, though her words made Trace sound like a monster worse than Big Joe.

  “Trace told me Elliotts never hit a woman, child, or animal. Is that true?”

  Beth stared in the mirror and waited for her new friend to answer. Sophie, standing behind, lifted Beth’s hair and set it to flow down her back.

  “That man and his brothers love a knock-down, street brawling fight, especially against miners. They were banned from town because they always won. But they don’t get mean drunk, and they’ve never hit anyone who didn’t deserve it.” She poked Beth in the back to make her stand straight. “You’d better tell him you need to keep this gown in one piece. Otherwise he’ll rip it open to get at you. Mind, you’re likely the first present he’s unwrapped in years. Not that this gown hides a dang thing.”

  Beth blushed at her friend’s wicked smile. She left her hair loose, ripples of gold falling to her bottom. She didn’t have to pinch her cheeks for color as, whenever she thought of what might come later, her face flamed.

  Sophie opened the door and leaned her head out. “You ready down there, Mr. Elliott?”

  “Hell, yeah!”

  Beth swallowed hard at the deep laughter floating up at Trace’s reply. This was it. She’d run from the only home she knew to escape a horrid marriage and ended up in jail.

  Jail, marriage, what was the difference? She was now Trace’s property. Her mother said a woman’s last decision in life was her promise to God saying, “I do.” Every decision after that belonged to her husband. Not as far as Elizabeth Katherine James Elliott was concerned. Getting married didn’t turn her brain to mush or diminish her desire for fulfillment. It did, however, make parts of her quiver that she hadn’t known existed.

  “This’ll help keep your hands from trembling,” said Sophie, handing her a small posy. A damp cloth wrapped around their stems kept them from wilting. Beth accepted the sweet violets. She hesitantly sniffed but couldn’t catch their scent.

  “Thank you so much. They’re beautiful! But how did you have time to pick them?”

  “Your husband brought them for you. He said a woman should have flowers on her wedding day.”

  Beth blinked rapidly as her posy, now even more precious, blurred. Sophie shook her head and winked. “You’ve married into a family of good men. And I think you’re cussed enough to take them on.” She kissed Beth’s cheek.

  “Thank you. For everything,” Beth whispered.

  “You are most welcome. Now smile for your man. He’ll make a good husband if you let him lead the way.”

  Head high, clutching her flowers, Beth waited for her husband.

  Chapter Four

  Trace, hearing Sophie’s call, clenched his fists tight and held still. Anything to stop from rushing up the stairs like a boy eager for his first woman. While the ceremony at the jail joined Beth to him in law, it could still be annulled. Once he joined with her flesh to complete the bond, she’d be his forever. Every soft, precious, cantankerous inch of her.

  He could touch her whenever he wanted, do anything he chose to her and not even God would have the right to say no. He’d never force Beth, but he would seduce and encourage her into doing things she’d never known existed. Starting now.

  Sophie gave a saucy wink as she passed him on the stairs. Damn, he was hard, but Beth was a virgin. He’d have to make her first time so good she’d want more. Much more.

  He counted the slow steps, wincing as his thighs brushed against his groin with every movement. He knocked quietly before opening the door. She had her back to him. The soft glow of a lamp in the window lit the spun gold hair cascading over her shoulders. It covered everything but her rounded bottom and long legs. He longed to thrust into the dark cleft between her thighs. Then he’d bend her forward and slide into her wet heat. She slowly turned to face him, steps hesitant and jerky. It provided a sideways silhouette that made him groan in appreciation.

  “Thank you for the flowers,” she said, eyes flickering around the room. “They’re beautiful. I’ve never been given flowers before.”

  She held them between full breasts. On either side, rosy tips pointed at him like bullets. Her lip quivered, and he realized she was waiting for him to say something. His tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth. He swallowed hard and finally inhaled.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I thought, Mrs. Elliott,” he croaked.

  Her eyes glistened and she blinked hard. Did she cry at the thought of marrying him? Then she hardened her jaw and straightened her back. She tossed her hair like a filly eager to play.

  “You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Elliott.”

  When he claimed her full lips in the jail after their vows, he almost came on the spot. She had gazed up at him with a glassy look when he released her. Then she smiled with, he hoped, eagerness for more. He wasn’t a church-going man, but he thanked God he landed in town tonight.

  And now she looked up at him, eyes wide, lips and fists clenched. In eagerness or fear? Either way, he’d take it slow. Like a new filly before her first ride, he’d calm her with his hands and voice before putting any weight on her.

  “You hungry?” He’d eaten a light meal in the dining room while he waited.

  She shook her head. Golden ripples shifted to reveal tantalizing hints of flesh.

  “Tired?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t sleep well the last few nights.”

  “No one touched you, did they? You weren’t afraid?” If anyone had hurt her, he’d make them pay. Only part of that was for daring to touch what was his.

  “Sometimes I was a bit afraid. But even more, I was angry.”

  Holding the posy of wildflowers in one hand, she crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. She covered up what he ached to touch.

  “And I’m still angry! Why should I be put in jail for defending myself, then forced to marry a man I’ve never seen be
fore? I can make my own way with my brain and hands. But no,” she dragged out the word, “all that matters to men is a woman’s body. Do you think that deputy is smarter than me just because he has something in his trousers that I don’t?”

  Trace clenched his jaw to stop a smile from erupting. Ma had been a strong-minded woman like Beth. Pa told him to keep his opinions to himself until after he and his wife sweated on the sheets. He said women were more amenable after they’d had a few bouts of glory. His cock was so hard he’d have Beth shouting in glory all night and into the morning before he’d reply to such a dangerous comment. He had to prove to Beth that she could want his body as badly as he did hers. She had passion, all right.

  “Sheriff said you read his law books.”

  He caught a faint blush on her cheeks. “I had to do something to keep my mind off those disreputable men. Blackstone has some interesting ideas about…” She flicked her eyes down. “I’m married to you, yet I don’t even know how well you can read.”

  He stepped close and lifted her hand to his mouth. His elbow brushed against her nipple. She quivered.

  “I told you Ma made sure of it.” He whispered. Only when his breath went through his destroyed voice box did he sound like a monster. “Look at me, Kate.”

  “I don’t use my second name. Just Elizabeth.”

  “But you act like a Kate. One who needs taming.”

  He sucked her fingertip into his mouth and bit gently as he watched her eyes. It took a moment, but he saw the instant she understood his reference to Shakespeare. Ma read every play out loud except The Taming of the Shrew. Pa read that one with a grin. It got Ma as flustered as a broody hen with a fox camped outside the henhouse.

  “I am not a shrew and I will not be tamed!”

  She glared into his eyes. He held back a smile at the way she took the bait. If their vows had included the word “obey” she was the type to cross her fingers and mumble when she spoke the words.

  “According to Sheriff Chambers, Big Joe, and most of the men in this town, you are.” She tried to yank her hand away but he held tight. Her nostrils flared when he touched her breast again. “I like you just the way you are, Mrs. Elliott. I tame horses. I don’t want a tame wife. I want one who fights back with fire.”

  Her blush heated his blood. How far down did that rosy flush go? To her breasts or all the way to her belly?

  “What happened to your throat? You sound fine when you whisper.”

  “Got roped and dragged behind a horse for a few miles. Wrecked my voice box, but I can whisper and whistle just fine.”

  He changed the subject by lowering his hands, and hers, so his thumbs could brush her nipples. She inhaled and thrust her chest toward him. Though he wanted to jump in, he had to make a few things clear up front.

  “You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. Till death do us part, Mrs. Elliott.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head down at her to make his point. “I want respect between us. Respect and complete honesty. I expect someday we’ll have a deep friendship. But don’t get any womanly notions about love. It killed my pa and that won’t happen to me.”

  “I don’t need your love. I’ve lived without it all my life just fine.”

  He searched her face. She looked back, calm and sure. He might have been left an orphan at sixteen, but his parents had cared about him until then. Not as much as each other, unfortunately, but it was more than what Beth grew up with.

  “According to the laws of man and God, I now own you and everything you possess. Including your body.” She squawked like he knew she would, but he didn’t stop. “I don’t take what’s not given freely.” She shut her mouth, pressing her lips tight. At least the woman had enough sense to keep some of her opinions to herself now and then. “I want my wife in my bed. After tonight, I expect you’ll want to be there as well. But no Elliott will force you to do anything you really don’t want to do.”

  He chose his words carefully. He’d be able to remind her of them later when she realized what they would ask of her. Ask and encourage strongly, but not demand.

  “I don’t lie, Beth. Ever. I expect the same from you.” She stared up at him. Emotions flashed over her face so fast he couldn’t decipher them while staring deep in her eyes. “You’re full of fire, Mrs. Elliott.” He winked. “I like that in a wife.”

  “Good. I’m not changing who I am just because I had to marry you.” She glanced down. “You were also forced into this.”

  A finger under her chin brought her eyes back to his. “Nope. No one forces me to do anything I don’t want to. After I got my voice wrecked, I gave up on thinking about a wife. I told Simon and Jack they’d have to haul one home so the Elliott name would live on.”

  “Why would your voice matter? It doesn’t change who you are.”

  “That’s not what the few single women I’ve run into, and their mamas, thought.” He pushed back memories of flirting women turning pale in horror when he spoke to them. His money and name weren’t enough to make up for it when there were so many other men to choose from.

  “Those same women would condemn me for having set foot in a jail, much less spending three days in a cell.”

  “Frank locked you up for your own good.”

  She pulled back, but he didn’t let her escape. “I was minding my own business walking past the bank when I was accosted by that horrid bully, Big Joe! I was only defending myself so why wasn’t he locked up, instead of me?”

  “Joe works for the mayor, who might order him released immediately to go after you again. Putting you in a cell was the only way to keep you safe.”

  “Your mayor would have let Big Joe marry me, condemning me to a short, horrid life. That is not right!”

  Trace nodded. “Something’s strange between those two. Mayor Rivers is as smooth as a flannel-mouthed liar but no one’s caught him out yet.” When Beth frowned, he realized this was no way to talk on his wedding night.

  “I told Frank I’d marry any woman to keep her from Big Joe’s fists.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckle. “Then I saw you standing nose to nose with Charlie Newton. There you were with dirty toes, scraggly hair, and an attitude bigger than Montana Territory.” He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You, Mrs. Elliott, are my kind of woman.” He grazed his thumbs against her nipples once more. A blaze lit her eyes and a moan escaped her clenched jaw.

  “You’re beautiful, but that can change. I want a wife with a strong backbone. One who’ll live with her husband and his brothers and not give a damn what’s whispered in town.” He flicked her nipples again. This time she stepped closer, brushing her belly against his hard length. He bit back a needy hiss.

  “Women with opinions and a fiery tongue have passion. I want that. I may not agree, but we can work it out, together.”

  “You mean that? You won’t tell me to ‘hush, woman’?”

  He waggled his head, debating how to answer. Truth won out as usual. “I expect I might sometimes. But that won’t stop you. I can see you got a brain and I expect you’ll use it.” He leaned close, nose to nose. “But don’t fight with me in town. A man who can’t keep his wife in line is seen as weak. I’ve never been weak. If you sass me, I’ll have to spank you.”

  She reared back. “Spank me? There’s no way you’re ever going to do that!” She squeaked the words but her nostrils flared.

  “I won’t have to if you behave, wife.” He purred the words, both a threat and a promise.

  She pouted, her eyebrows low. He knew she’d push his limits each and every day. One day, she’d sass him in town just to see if he’d follow through. He would. He couldn’t wait to haul her across his lap and paddle her right through her dress. She’d scream bloody murder, but he’d do it, even if he had to sit on the boardwalk with his feet in the mud. As soon as he got her on Elliott land, he’d do it again. This time he’d strip her naked and use the flat of his hand on her bare bottom. She’d be soaking wet by then, desperate for him to kiss her better before plun
ging deep.

  He closed his eyes and fought for control, pulling up memories of winter blizzards and plunging in icy spring ponds. Anything to cool the raging heat demanding he take her, hard. Now!

  Only when he thought he could look at her without ripping off that scrap of nothing and thrusting her against the wall, did he speak again.

  “I want you to enjoy my touch, Beth. When I enter you the first time, it may hurt a bit. I’m a big man. But I’ll pleasure you before and after.”

  His speech over, he let himself look down. Her nightgown, if that see-through cloth could be called clothing, had a line of buttons down the front, all the way to her belly. Two pink peaks, each the size of the tip of his little finger, jutted toward his chest. She was his now, and he’d cherish every inch of her. Again and again.

  “You like pleasure, Mrs. Elliott?”

  She looked away before shyly nodding. “I like your kisses,” she whispered. A pink flush rose from her belly to her hairline. “They make me tingle.”

  “I’ll make you more than tingle when I touch what’s under those buttons.” He finally let his fingers grasp her full breasts. Her moan matched his.

  “Sophie said you have wicked ideas,” she gasped out. “She said you wouldn’t expect your wife to do what you did at Miss Lily’s.” She flicked her eyes up and down like a flirt, but unintentional. “She wouldn’t tell me what she meant.”

  “You give me lots of wicked ideas, Mrs. Elliott. But Sophie’s wrong.” He suckled her breast, lightly scraping his teeth as he pulled back to release her. “I expect you to learn my tricks and invent a few of your own.”

  “Miss Lily gave me this nightgown.” He narrowed his eyes when a faint smile flickered around her lips. “Sophie said if you want me to wear it again you have to undo the buttons, one by one.”

  His cock, already harder than an icicle in January, thickened. Dang, the woman learned fast! That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. What was it about her that sent his temperature reeling? Was it Beth herself or the fact he had unlimited access to her voluptuous body?