Montana Men Complete Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

Chapter 2

2

RYDER

When I'd stuck my head into the stage, not one beautiful woman, but three, stared back at me. A blond, brunette and fiery redhead; quite a variety of loveliness. Mrs. Bidwell had certainly outdone herself when she'd fulfilled the requirements for selecting brides for myself, friend Wyatt Blake and some lucky man further down the line.

I'd spent the past few months wondering about my new wife. I knew she was out there, somewhere, however not her name nor what she looked like. Mrs. Bidwell had had her work cut out for her. In the meantime, I fended off the perpetual advances of Myrna Flanders and her matchmaking mother. Women in the Montana Territory--marriageable, appealing and with the bent to handle my baser proclivities--were few and far between. Hell, there were none. If there'd been one, I'd have found her, or Wyatt in my stead. We'd had to be extremely vigilant; the chance of being caught in a compromising position and trapped into a marriage was easily done by a desperate female. With Myrna Flanders, it would only be a matter of time before she took extreme measures. Both of us had similar requirements--and no interest in being trapped--and we'd had to seek elsewhere. Thus, Mrs. Bidwell and her far reaching assistance. We'd written a joint letter expressing our clear expectations, offering a sizable p*****t for meeting and even exceeding expectations.

From the look of the ladies--stunning and clearly out of their element, Mrs. Bidwell had earned every penny. Word of Eleanor's arrival had traveled faster than she had, however not by much. I received notice of her name and her imminency only three days past. But no word was shared as to her looks or demeanor, so I'd been imagining my new wife, forming a mental image of what she looked like and what she'd do with me. To me.

If I had to guess which of these women was my bride by first glances alone, I wouldn't look solely at their outward appearance to sway my decision, but at her eyes. Her eyes said it all.

The blond's showed fear, worry. The brunette's offered outward eagerness. The redhead's green eyes were banked with desire, a smoldering heat, visible even beneath the obvious nervousness. She was the one. I didn't want a scared wife that I had to coddle and reassure. I didn't want a wife too willing to please. I needed a woman who would awaken beneath my hand, whether it be by gentle persuasion or by stern punishment. There was no question that the beauty with the copper tresses was Eleanor Adams.

As she alighted from the stage I was able to take all of her in. She was petite, rising solely to my shoulder. Her form was trim, yet lush with curves in all the right places beneath her simple blue dress. Ample flesh to grip firmly, to hold onto and keep in place for a good f*****g. Her brazen hair was coming loose and curls tumbled down wild and untamed. Pale skin blushed to a pretty pink as she looked upon me, her every thought flickered across her face in a matter of moments: surprise, fear, nervousness, and even desire. I thought of her bottom and how it would change to a similar hue beneath my hand.

The other ladies had called her back to the stage to share their farewells, yet McCallister was anxious to move on. I'd barely had time slam the door shut and yank Eleanor away before her being run over. I didn't want my bride hurt before I'd done more than hold her hand.

"Are you all right?" I asked through clenched teeth, trying to keep my grasp on her gentle all the while wanting to punch McCallister in the nose for lack of consideration. A dead wife did me no good! She glanced up at me with her surprised green eyes. Her lashes and brows were a shade darker than her hair, bringing up thoughts about her hair in other decadent places.

Her full mouth was open slightly, her breath escaping in little pants, alarmed by the rough and swift departure of the stage. "Yes." Her pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip and my c**k hardened. "Thank you."

We were alone at the edge of town, the rustle of the wind over the tall prairie grass the only sound. Eleanor squinted slightly against the sun, her brow crinkling. I lifted my hand and placed my finger over the spot, her skin soft and warm. She was so small, delicate. Breakable even. "You look...worried."

Surprisingly, my protectiveness had asserted itself and I wanted to ensure that she was not only well, but happy. Safe.

She leaned back out of reach of my touch only slightly, shook her head. "Oh, um...no." Breaking eye contact, she looked straight at my chest. "I'm nervous."

"I admit, I am as well." I smiled down at the top of her head, all riotous curls and color, although she could see my amusement most likely solely in her periphery. "It's not every day you meet your bride and discover how lovely she is." The words were true, and meant to coax and soften her. I didn't need her on edge or afraid. With what I had planned for her, especially now that I'd seen her and anticipated what kind of fire was deep within, I needed her receptive. Open.

Her head came up.

"You blush so prettily."

"You have me...at a...um...disadvantage."

I arched a brow. "How so?"

She glanced from side to side, taking in her surroundings before looking at me. "You're from here, know people, have friends. This is all new to me. You're new to me."

I picked up her small bag from the ground, never breaking her gaze. "Then I should remedy that. I'd like to take you home, if that's acceptable. What I have in mind will have us getting to know each other very well."

When she blushed even more, I knew she didn't miss my meaning. Some women would have run away screaming from such bold words, but Eleanor didn't.

Instead of bursting into tears or being missish, she nodded, a red curl slipping down over her cheek. I was wholly surprised, yet immensely pleased. With my free hand, I tucked it back behind her ear, stroking her soft skin as I paused a moment, ensuring that I had myself in check. I had to stay in control and not let my c**k take over. I couldn't toss her over my shoulder in my haste and carry her back to the house and f**k her. Just toss-the-skirts-up f*****g. That would be for another day. For now, she needed slow seduction and gentleness required for a virgin. Eleanor needed that and I needed to give it to her. As her husband--husband!--it was my right, my privilege to make her mine in the basest of ways.

I moved my hand to her elbow, leading her into town at a modest pace. August Point was small, only a few hundred residents, although large enough for the need for a sheriff and a jail. My house was conveniently close to the jail, which made my life easy and simple. I could return to work the family ranch south of town when my role as lawman was complete, whenever I chose that day to be, but I felt settled in the role, content to let my brothers handle the operation.

We made it to the house in only a few short minutes and I enjoyed the feel of her beside me and the ability to glance down at her full breasts every step of the way. My thoughts consisted solely of the color of her n*****s. Would they be fair like the rest of her, a sharp contrast to her striking hair? I guessed peaches and cream and imagined them to taste just as sweet.

Once she was within the private confines of our home, I'd find out. And she'd find out all about me and what I wanted from her. I wouldn't just take her, I'd possess her.