B efore sending his servants away for the day, Simon had his cook prepare some meats, cheese and fruit to offer to his guests. “This looks like a picnic,” Xenia said with a smile. She served herself and sat at the dining table with her men.
After he and Owen discussed some matter of politics, during which Xenia idly watched something outside the window, Simon said, “I have given much thought to our situation. The marriage we’ve proposed.
I wish for you to become Lady Kinnerton, to live here with me, and.
.. to have a life with both Owen and myself. ”
Xenia’s fork hovered midway to her lips. She set down the utensil, hands trembling slightly. “It is more than I ever hoped for. I hoped to one day marry one of you, but feared losing the closeness with the other if I did.”
Having had similar thoughts, Simon understood her fears.
“We must be careful to avoid doing anything that will draw attention to our arrangement. My servants are loyal, I believe, so we don’t have to fear what stories they might tell.
Owen will keep his house in the village.
He will continue his work at the smithy, which is essential for maintaining both his livelihood and our ruse. ”
Xenia nodded, offering Owen a smile.
“I’m concerned someone will notice how often I return home at the break of dawn. There are others in the village whose work day begins early. Xenia’s parents, for one.”
Simon stroked his chin as he thought about the alternatives.
Part of him wanted to say Owen should simply spend fewer nights with them, but that’s not what he’d promised Xenia.
“There’s an empty house near here. Perhaps we shall purchase it for Owen.
He can give the appearance of leaving from there each day, rather than here. ”
Owen tipped his head as he met Simon’s gaze across the table. “Perhaps Zee might stay with me there at times. Just the two of us.” His suggestion hung in the air, bold and unapologetic.
Simon’s jaw tightened. Could he live with that? It’s what he was expecting Owen to accept, spending nights knowing Xenia is enjoying the pleasures of the other man. But Simon would be her true husband, her legal husband. She should stay with him.
He hated to admit how poorly suited he was to this idea—one wife for two husbands.
This would be the hardest thing he’d ever attempted—no, he wasn’t attempting to give her what she wanted.
He would succeed. How, well, he’d find it within himself to do so.
That was how much he loved Xenia. But today, he wasn’t that man.
“We may discuss such arrangements at another time.”
The tension in the room was palpable, like the charged air before a storm. He hated that for her. They were discussing marriage, the happiest time for a young lady. He must do better for her.
Owen’s hand came across the table, fingers brushing against Xenia’s. His gaze met Simon’s. “I appreciate the lengths you’ve gone to, Simon. For Zee—for all of us. I’m for this with every ounce of my being.”
Simon leaned back from the table, the food on his plate holding no interest for him. “Time is of the essence. I propose we leave for Gretna Green without delay. Owen, do you have any pressing commitments at the smithy?”
Owen nodded. “I’ve but one project to finish, and it should be done on Monday. After that, I’m yours and Xenia’s to command.”
“Why must we elope?” Xenia asked. “My mother will be upset about missing the wedding.”
He’d considered getting a special license so they could marry quickly at home, but that required him to travel a few days alone. Owen’s plan to marry her himself was foremost in Simon’s thoughts. If Simon left town, would the other man elope with her?
Common sense said he wouldn’t, but Simon was having little luck convincing himself of that.
The fact Owen had agreed that marrying Simon was the better option, for all the reasons Simon had stressed, showed he was thinking of what’s best for her.
He wasn’t scheming to seduce her away from Simon for his own satisfaction.
Which was awfully close to what Simon wanted to do—seduce her into accepting a life with him alone. As much as he trusted Owen, he wouldn’t relax until he and Xenia were married.
He realized she waited for his answer. He conjured one to cover his selfishness. “I don’t wish to wait. The travel will take the same time either direction, to London or Gretna Green, but this way I have you at my side and we’ll be married in half the time.”
Her smile said his answer pleased her. Owen’s cocked brow said he, too, questioned the need to elope, and the answer hadn’t fooled him.
He offered Xenia a loving smile. “Pack only what you must. We depart under the veil of nightfall tomorrow night.”
“I shall leave a note for my parents,” Xenia said. “That will relieve their worries when I’m missing.”
“Excellent,” Simon said. “Go to the smithy at midnight. We’ll be waiting in my carriage to whisk you away to our future.”
Xenia’s gaze flitted between the two men. “But Simon, how am I to be wed to both of you?”
Simon found her hand across the table, his touch gentle yet firm.
“You know how it must be. Legally, you will marry me alone, but Owen’s attendance at the ceremony—and our wedding night—is imperative to us.
It is his blessing, his vow alongside mine, that will bind us together in all the ways that truly matter. ”
Xenia smiled.
“Perhaps afterward we’ll have a private ceremony where I may bind myself to you,” Owen said, his voice huskier than usual.
“And I to you,” Xenia said. “I’d like that.”
* * *
They were married without pomp in a smithy, which Xenia thought was ironically fitting, seeing how Owen stood at her side opposite Simon.
She wore her best gown, which had formerly seen the insides of prestigious homes or assembly halls in London, thanks to her cousin.
Simon wore navy trousers and matching tail coat, looking more dapper than she recalled seeing him.
Owen’s buckskin breeches fitted his strong thighs, giving her wicked thoughts even while hearing the wedding rite being spoken, and he wore his finest tailcoat.
After they were married, the three returned to the inn where Simon had requested two rooms. They’d only use one, but must adhere to propriety.
Xenia removed her bonnet and pelisse in their room while Simon set his hat and gloves aside.
Owen had gone first to his room, but quickly joined them, minus his hat, coat, and neckcloth.
“Such a swift ceremony,” Simon mused, breaking the silence as he slipped off his coat and unbuttoned his waistcoat.
Xenia chuckled softly. “I daresay the blacksmith believed Owen was my brother, intent on forcing your hand in marriage.” Her laughter rang clear in the quiet space. She offered her back to Owen. “Will you help me undress?”
He quickly came to her aid. “Simon, I cannot express my gratitude enough. For your trust, for this... inclusion.” His eyes flickered from Simon to Xenia, the unspoken words lingering between them like the delicate touch of fingers on skin.
Simon merely nodded. It was clear in the slight tilt of his head that he valued Owen’s presence as much as Xenia did. This night was a defining moment for them all—a chosen path that went beyond the bindings of tradition.
“Xenia, you’re so beautiful,” Owen murmured, low and intimate. When her gown loosened, he held it as it fell, allowing her to step out of it before hanging it from a hook on the wall.
As Xenia lifted her chemise over her head, Owen quickly undressed.
Standing in just her stockings, she hesitated a moment, unsure if either man wanted the honor of removing them.
Sometimes the three of them tore at each other’s garments in their haste to take to the bed, but other times the men preferred to draw out the unveiling of her skin.
She thought they were silly about it sometimes, but then she’d see Owen’s torso bared inch by inch as he removed his shirt, or watch Simon’s lower torso, cock and all, revealed like a gift when he unbuttoned his fall.
Simon took the matter into his own hands, gathering her into his arms and kissing her as if she was his everything. And perhaps now she was. She felt Owen’s cock brush against her lower back just before his lips warmed her shoulders.
Simon’s lips traced a fervent path across her collarbone, his breath hot against her flushed skin.
His kisses ignited a fierce desire that pooled deep within her.
Owen’s hands were a comforting counterpoint, sweeping over her back in broad, soothing strokes before moving to encompass the soft curves of her breasts.
As he kneaded the flesh there, Simon sucked on her nipples.
Each nip of Simon’s teeth sent a jolt straight to her clitoris, and she whimpered with desire.
As Simon took one nipple between his lips again, Owen’s hands slid lower, parting her buttocks gently.
The slickness of the oil he applied there was cool at first but quickly warmed to her body’s heat, a single finger circling the sensitive spot before pressing in slowly.
Her legs weakened. She wanted to stretch on the bed so all her attention could go to their explorations. She moaned.
Owen whispered assurances to her, his tone thick with his barely restrained need. “Shhh, love, we’ll take care of you,” he soothed, even as his finger withdrew, only to be replaced by the firm pressure of his cock nudging insistently at her entrance.
Simon suddenly lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, as he aligned himself at her core, his erection a heated promise against her slick folds. The two men entered her in unison—Owen filling her from behind, while Simon claimed her with a gentle but insistent thrust.
Tightening her legs on Simon, Xenia could rock on their cocks.
She laughed at the sensation. As they moved within her, she was sandwiched between the strength of Simon’s chest and the solid warmth of Owen’s body.
It was as if they were one entity, all hearts beating together, all breaths coming in tandem, all focused on her pleasure.
Her world narrowed to the slide of skin on skin, the building pressure that threatened to consume her. Their coordinated thrusts pushed her higher, taking her to the precipice of ecstasy before holding her there, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
“Xenia, let go,” Owen growled against her ear, his voice tight as if all his effort was required to wait for her release before he could come.
Simon’s grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he sought his own climax.
Together, they crested the wave, Simon’s seed spilling into her as Owen filled her from behind, their combined heat marking her as theirs in the most primal way.
As the tremors of her orgasm washed over her, Xenia knew without a doubt that she belonged to both men—body, heart, and soul—and they to her.
In this unconventional union, she found an unexpected wholeness, a sense of completion that defied propriety but fulfilled every hidden desire she had ever harbored.
They remained in a tight embrace for a long minute or two, everyone breathing hard, then Owen pulled out. He lowered the coverlet on the bed to allow Simon to lay her down, then went to the ewer to clean himself. He rinsed the cloth, handing it to Simon before lying on the far side of the bed.
Simon tended to himself and Xenia, kissing her shoulders and torso absently while running the cloth over her tender places. While he finished, she scooted closer to Owen. His smile as she neared him was a gift, revealing exactly what was in his heart. “I love you, Owen,” she said, kissing him.
The kiss started out gentle, nearly chaste as her lips met his, but his lips parted to allow her tongue inside.
She rolled onto her back and he hovered over her, his thrusting tongue tangling with hers.
When the mattress shifted under Simon’s weight, Xenia broke the kiss, lying back on the pillow.
She pressed her hand on Simon’s chest, her other hand stroking the curve of one of Owen’s muscles.
She lay nestled between them, a tangle of limbs, while satisfied sighs filled the air. Simon took her hand in his and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. His breath caressed her neck. She nuzzled her nose in his thick hair. “I love you, Simon. Lord Kinnerton. Husband.”
That last brought a smile to his lips.
Owen’s hand cupped the fleshy part of her tummy, flexing gently, a comforting touch. She closed her eyes, stifling a yawn, and let herself doze.