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Mrs. Pratt turned to the Justice Of The Peace. "It appears we are ready for you, Mr. Molesly."
No, the tension had not diminished after all. I was going to marry a strange Englishman.
"After, I'd be happy to take you downstairs to avail yourself of one of my girls."
"Is Rachelle available?" he asked, his eyes bright with eagerness.
Mrs. Pratt nodded. "Most assuredly. She has been asking after you."
The man puffed up like a peacock at the flattering, yet most likely false, words. It did make the man eager to complete his task, however. It only led me to question to depth of his calling. He cleared his throat and began. "Dearly beloved...."
This morning I was an heiress eating her breakfast. And now, I stood in nothing but my shift and married a handsome stranger who had bought me at auction in the upstairs of a brothel.
CHAPTER THREE
EMMA
"You wish to inspect your purchase now, I'm sure," Mrs. Pratt commented. She'd ushered the Justice Of The Peace downstairs and in the direction of Rachelle. He had no qualms about performing the unusual ceremony, a task he'd most likely done before; no doubt Rachelle's services were always complimentary after.
Ian moved to stand beside Kane. Both were tall, broad shouldered. I had no knowledge of their profession, but it was most certainly something that involved using their muscles as they were both well formed. Brawny, even. These were not typical gentlemen who sat idly. By their bearing, the intensity they exuded, they were powerful men. And one of them was my husband. The other, he looked upon me in the same possessive glint. I also found them both very handsome.
"I do," Kane replied.
My eyes widened and my mouth fell open, and I retreated, a hand out in a poor reflection of defense. "Surely you don't expect–"
Kane held up his own hand to halt my words. "Wedding me undoubtedly prevented you from an unsavory situation in which you found yourself. I paid a hefty sum in doing so. Therefore, I have earned the right to inspect the merchandise."
Merchandise? My cheeks heated this time not from humiliation but indignation. "I am not some prized mare purchased for breeding."
Kane's dark brow arched. He pierced me with his equally dark eyes. "Aren't you?"
His words left me speechless and I turned away, not able to look at him.
"Here." Mrs. Pratt offered a glass jar to Ian. "This will ease the way."
"No need," Kane replied. "Her cunny will be wet when I check her."
Cunny? I'd never heard that term before, yet I knew it to be crude and an English euphemism for my woman's core. I pressed my legs together. He was going to stick his fingers in me. There. I had no idea what he was saying about being wet, but the man seemed confident.
"Nay worries, lass. Kane will have ye likin' it, to be sure. Leave us, please, Mrs. Pratt," Ian said. Not Kane, but Ian. He meant to remain within? Now? I swallowed down my fear of this dominant duo.
Us? I highly doubted I would like Kane to touch me as he planned. Handsome or not, I was wary, and rightly so. Today was too great a transition for me to be anything but.
Mrs. Pratt left readily enough; she'd made her money and was rid of me very tidily. With the vows said, not only legal but binding in God’s eyes as well, Kane couldn't change his mind.
The three of us remained, the room less crowded, yet with Kane and Ian's large size, I felt overly small. Threatened, overpowered.
"You are displeased in your husband?" Kane asked, humor lacing his voice.
The tone had me spinning around to face him, but saw from his expression that was what he'd intended. He wanted me to look at him. At both of them.
"With what you intend to do, yes."
"We are your husbands. We will touch you."
My eyes widened and I stepped away, now truly fearful. "We? Both of you? I must have misheard."
Both men shook their heads. "You did not." Kane pointed to himself, then at Ian. "We are your husbands."
