Read The Sextet Presents… By Male Order [In Days of Olde] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) for Free Online

to help her down.
    Hope allowed his assistance but immediately regretted it when she saw Father Schmitt standing with Abe Driscoll.
    The priest’s eyes narrowed as he inclined his head toward her and said something to Abe. Then both men glared at her.
    She could almost hear the condemning words they exchanged—probably calling her a harlot. She honestly didn’t give a damn. Those men had no idea the purgatory she’d suffered married to Billy Adams. They couldn’t possibly understand the relationship that Thomas and Alec shared, and they probably believed she’d taken both men as lovers.
    So be it . Gossip had never concerned her. While paying attention to rumors might have saved her from Billy, she still couldn’t abide by people who had nothing better to do than pass stories that had little to no foundation in the truth simply to gain attention.
    Let them call her a harlot. A Jezebel. A wanton. She’d ignore their snide accusations and live her life as she saw fit.
    When Thomas refused to let go of her waist, Hope looked up into his brown eyes. They were fixed on Abe. “Who is that man?”
    “Father Schmitt.”
    “Hope…” His tone was scolding.
    “The man standing at his side is Abraham Driscoll. He owns quite a bit of land around these parts. His farm is one of the largest in the Dakotas.”
    “What is he to ye?” Alec asked as he came to join them.
    “To me, he is a raspberry seed between my teeth.” She tried to brush Thomas’s hands away. “Please release me. People will talk.”
    “Let them talk,” he replied. “We’ve committed no crime.” He did release her, but he immediately took her hand in his. “Come. Let’s get the supplies we need and go fetch my shipment.”
    Hope pulled to try to take her hand away, but Thomas only squeezed a little tighter. Part of her loved the possessive gesture, but she could still feel the eyes drilling into her back as they passed Abe and Father Schmitt. “Who do you believe sent the crate?”
    “I’m in hopes it was Father Kincaid. Since we traveled mostly by stagecoach and had relatively limited funds, I asked Father to hold on to a few important things and send them when he could.”
    The excitement in his voice piqued her curiosity. “What things? ”
    “I would like to surprise you,” he replied. “We can open it tonight when we’re back home.”
    Her heart warmed to Thomas declaring her farm his home. The three months the men had spent there had passed so quickly, and while the men might have been clueless as to the chores required to keep a homestead running, they were clever enough to catch on with little instruction. The farm ran so well now she even had time to read some evenings—a luxury she’d never been able to enjoy when she’d been alone. Or with Billy.
    Billy couldn’t read or write, having never been to a school. He, too, had been an orphan, which explained why his parents hadn’t taught him. Her uncles had ensured she had the skills she’d need to handle herself.
    She often thought Billy was jealous she could read and write. He’d tossed one of her precious books in the fire when she’d sat reading one evening shortly after their marriage. Once, she’d worked up the courage to ask whether she could teach him. The lesson that beating gave her was to never make Billy feel inferior or allow him to know she possessed other skills he didn’t.
    Opening the door to the general store jostled the little bell that hung above it. Thankfully, there were no other customers as she walked in with Thomas and Alec.
    Annabelle Wylie, the owner’s wife, was behind the counter, dusting a stack of cans with a feather duster. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, which raised Hope’s anxiety. Hal Wylie was always kind to her, even extending her credit when she’d desperately needed it not long after Billy’s death. Annabelle was an entirely different animal.
    She wielded gossip like a weapon, her tongue every bit as sharp as any blade. Hope