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"I grew up with many advantages. My family traces its roots back many generations, and I was raised to take my place in society. But"—I paused to consider the rest of my answer—"things didn’t go as planned." I shook my head back and forth ruefully. "However"—I kissed the top of her head—"I can see now it was all those things that brought me here. To you."
She leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder with a contented sigh. "I’m glad it did."
I chuckled. It felt good to have her relax and draw nearer to me.
"How do you and Keane know each other?"
"His father was the steward on our country estate. He was my father’s right-hand man and, when his father died, my father took Keane under his wing. We’re close to the same age, and my brothers are much older than me. We were more like brothers than I ever was with my actual siblings."
I smiled, again, thinking back to our boyhood. "We sure did get into a lot of trouble. It was mostly Keane’s doing."
"Mostly?" she asked with a laugh. "I like imagining my two virile husbands as mischievous boys."
"Don’t be pert, Lily." I tried for a stern tone, but it was difficult as her company put me into a good mood.
Feeling bold, she queried further, "How did the two of you end up all the way out here? It’s a long way from the English countryside."
"It is certainly that," I answered. "Though my father had offered to assist Keane with an education or learning a trade, he was determined to make his own way. He joined the British Army and ended up in Mohamir where he met Rhys. He’s one of the men who lives at Bridgewater."
She watched and waited for me to continue.
"In Mohamir, a woman has two husbands, sometimes more. To see to her protection and pleasure. Many of the foreign soldiers saw the wisdom of this custom. Some of them came here, to Montana Territory, to buy up land where they could live in peace, the way they wanted."
"That explains how Keane got here. But what about you?"
"I had a broken engagement. I was extremely down in the mouth about it. One day, a letter from Keane arrived, urging me to travel to America to be part of a place called Bridgewater. I wasn’t exactly sure what it entailed, but life in England for a man who was tossed aside by a high society lady is not particularly enjoyable. I boarded a ship, sailed to New York, rode across North America and, voila. Bridgewater."
"What does your family think?"
With anyone else, I would have thought they were pressing their luck with so many questions, but I felt unusually chatty this day.
"Oh, they are certain that I have gone mad. Why would anyone give up the sights and luxuries of London for the wilderness of Montana?"
We rode up a ridge, and the horses stopped. I sighed contentedly and gazed into the distance. Lily perked up and looked in the same direction. In the valley below, nestled among the trees was a large ranch with well-tended paddocks and barns and several cabins of varying sizes sprinkled about. A feeling of serenity washed over me.
"This is why." My heart filled with pleasure at the sight in a way no number of British country estates could ever do.
"Is that Bridgewater?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, almost reverently.
Keane and Cherry Blossom came up next to us, excitement evident on Keane’s face. "Ah, we’re almost home. I’ve missed Bridgewater. What do you think, Lily?"
She stared out toward the horizon, taking in the bright green of the trees, the scent of pine and cool mountain air. "It’s beautiful. More beautiful than I had even imagined."
"Welcome home." I leaned down to give her a kiss that left her clinging to the front of my shirt.
Then Keane took his turn kissing her. I should have been insane with jealousy, but I wasn’t. It was the most natural thing in the world for us to share our sweet Lily.
"Let’s go home," Keane said.
"Yes!" Lily replied.
"Hang on, Lily." I wrapped an arm around her to hold her safely before I spurred my horse, Annabelle, onward.
"Oh!" Lily gasped as we took off, much faster than the steady pace we’d traveled thus far.
Keane rode ahead of us and took off his hat, waving it in the air, his long hair blowing in the breeze. He shouted with jubilation, and it was contagious.
