Logan stiffened, but continued to stroke her back through the blanket.
“You seem pretty perfect to me,” I commented.
“I have the appearance of my father. A permanent reminder of my mother’s sinful ways. I have her weak will, her tainted blood, her lustful body. She was a whore and now, so am I.”
She tipped her chin down.
“A whore? You were a virgin until a few minutes ago and you gave yourself to us, your husbands.”
“Yes, but there are two of you. And I liked it. I liked having both of you touch me. I liked what you did. It’s not right. It’s just not.”
While I heard the frustration in her voice and tears filled her eyes again, I could only feel relief. “Liking what your husbands do to you is not shameful.”
“I’m not supposed to have two husbands!” she shouted. Her voice carried on the slight breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, but the air was still warm as she continued to rant at us.
“I didn’t reply to your advertisement or agree to be your wife so I could be in a sinful relationship with two men. I am an honorable woman. I gave you my word. I trusted you to do right by me. God, I even brought my sisters with me. I’ve ruined their lives. This is not right. I’m not right.” Her hands twisted in the blanket across her stomach in obvious distress. “My uncle was correct. I must have evil inside me. I’ve ruined everything.”
Bloody hell. I flicked my gaze to Logan, who closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. We had to tell her the truth. I didn’t want to do it now when she was hurt and sad, but she deserved to know.
“No, you didn’t. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You answered an advertisement and agreed to marry a sixty-year-old, filthy miner by the name of Samuel Jenkins. He sat at the poker table with his two grown sons, reeking of sweat and piss, bragging about how they were all going to share you between them. Fill you with three Jenkins cocks.”
I raised my hand to her cheek and tried to soften the blow I’d just dealt. “I took one look at you, love, and knew I could not allow such an evil man to touch you. If your distress is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I lied to the preacher, and I lied to you. I am not Samuel Jenkins.”
She blinked. Once, then twice. “What?” She scrambled off Logan’s lap as if she’d been scalded, tucking the blanket tightly about her. From the neck down, only one slim ankle was exposed.
We didn’t move, but Logan grabbed his pants and put them on as I spoke.
“My name is Ford. That is the truth. My full name is Crawford Michael Ellison, the seventh marquess of Barton.”
Her mouth fell open. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Logan. “Then who are you?”
“I’m Logan Smythe. Son of a merchant. A soldier. And your husband.”
With one hand clenching the blanket she pointed between the two of us. “You planned this. You tricked me. Why? Why me? My sisters are beautiful, and, and pure. Not like me.” She laughed then. “God, it’s amazing. You stole the wrong woman, for you have married a half-breed bastard with tainted blood.”
She knelt down and grabbed her dress, turned her back and dropped the blanket to don it. I could see my seed dripping down her thighs mingled with her virgin’s blood.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Once she had her arms through the sleeves, she spun around and spoke as her fingers moved up the buttons, hiding her curves as she went. She was too angry to realize she had not put on any undergarments.
“Going? Back to Hayes to find the real Mr. Jenkins. I don’t believe you. He courted me. Wrote me letters. You’ve lied about everything else, why should I believe you about him?”
“That’s it? You’re going to go back to search for a vile, disgusting liar, just because he was supposed to be your husband?”
“Yes. I’m no longer virgin, but perhaps he’ll forgive me.” Squatting down, she tried to lift one of the saddles, but she only moved it a foot or two before she grunted and exhaled. The horse was grazing a short distance away, but there was no way she could toss it over the animal’s back. She hadn’t even put the blanket on first. “I have to do the right thing. Going back is the honorable thing to do.”
I think I fell in love with her in that moment. She was riled, her cheeks flushed from her ire, her hair a wild tangle, long down her back. She was breathing hard and I couldn’t help but watch the gentle sway and press of her breasts against the front of her dress. Knowing that she was sticky with my seed only added to the possessive heat flooding my chest. She was fierce and loyal and stubborn and passionate and… needy.
She needed a man who would see her passionate nature for what it was: a priceless gift given to a vibrant woman. The fact that she loved the way I’d fucked her, had come from both my cock and Logan’s mouth meant our connection was powerful, not that she was tainted. She was perfect. She was mine. She was ours. We simply had to earn her loyalty. She would be the perfect wife, a powerful and fiercely protective mother to our children and a wild vixen in bed. We just had to make her fall in love with us.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth
I was married to the wrong man! A marquess? Whatever the heck did that mean? It didn’t mean a darn thing to me. He was a liar and a thief. And he wasn’t Mr. Jenkins. I was married to a man who lied to a preacher. I was married to a man who shared me with his friend. And I’d liked it.
No, worse, I’d loved it. I’d come all over his cock and wanted more.