Barefoot Bride for Three Read Online Free

city, taking away her first taste of freedom.
    She’d worked a farm once and she could do it again. But as a wife, it would be her home. She would decide what and how they ate. Not cantankerous old people who thought they still had a dozen servants rather than one too big, too strong, too opinionated granddaughter.
    “You want me to marry you? This is what you get, ma’am.” He held his hands wide, palms up.
    Her fiancé was honest, both about himself and what he faced. She had to be as honest as to what she’d face, with or without him. How could marriage to this man be worse than her other options? When she didn’t answer, he pursed his lips and nodded. He took a deep breath and then exhaled.
    She looked at his broad chest and strong legs. With all the marks against him, he was still more of a man than any she’d seen in her life. Not pretty, rich, or well-mannered, he was tall enough that she felt almost normal. Not petite and sweet like her mother and sisters, but at least she didn’t tower over him. Even better, he stood up to the bully of a deputy to protect her.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    His eyes narrowed. “Yes, what?” His hoarse rasp was worse, more of a grinding noise.
    “Yes, I want you to marry me.” She met his eyes. They stared at each other, neither breaking the glance. Heat rose from below her belly up her chest to her face. When it reached her cheeks she dropped her eyes to his boots, giving in to him.
    But only for a moment. After one deep breath, she straightened, gritted her teeth, and stared into his face. One corner of his mouth lifted into a quick smile. His straightened and doffed his hat as if he strolled on a city’s main street. No, he would never stroll unless he had a lady on his arm. This man would stride down the sidewalk, his boots loud on the wooden boards. With that smile and nod he went from ruffian to courtly, though unkempt, gentleman.
    “But I…” She stopped. She concentrated for a moment before continuing. A wife had certain duties, horrid ones according to her mother. “Mr. Carter, the man my father wished me to marry, forced a kiss on me. It made me ill. Your touch may do the same.”
    “Did he hurt you?”
    She shook her head at his growl. “I fought him off with my knee. He was most upset. So was Father.” It had taken weeks for her bruises to fade after he broke his cane thrashing her. Never again.
    “Good for you.” He almost smiled at her. “Are you afraid of me hurting you? I’ve never raised a hand to hurt a woman.”
    A part of her heart melted at his gentle, encouraging words. She shook her head. Compared to the simmering violence shared by Big Joe and Charlie, she couldn’t see him beating her.
    “Then let me show you how a real man kisses his woman,” he said. “You tell me to stop any time, and I will. But if you want more, I’ll be glad to oblige.”
    His knowing wink sent chills through her body. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on a wall peg. She swallowed hard when he turned toward her. Eyes down, she watched his feet approach, the steps slow and steady. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, he stalked her like an experienced bull after a heifer.
    Never had a man looked at her like that. He didn’t seem to care that she was too tall and loud. He knew nothing about her other than her refusal to be cowed.
    He stopped with the scuffed toes of his boots only a few inches from her bare feet. She heard his rasping breath over the pounding of her heart. She inhaled a mixture of sweat, horse, tobacco, and something else. Something elusive, but tantalizing.
    His hand rose, palm open, slow and sure. She watched it as she’d once seen a rabbit with a rattlesnake. The rabbit knew the end was near but could not move a muscle to escape.
    “Shh,” he whispered. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
    She heard no sign of his broken voice when he whispered. Her shoulders lowered as her tension retreated. His knuckle brushed the tip of her breast. She