Bad Kitty (7 page)

His eyes flashed silver and his breathing grew harsh as he gripped one of her shoulders and one of her hips—and drove with one powerful thrust through her maidenhead.

Kitty cried out but the pain was short-lived. It was done. There was no turning back. Wrapping her arms around his broad back, she felt him trembling as she pulled him down to her. While this experience was new to Kitty, she could not help but wonder what it would feel like to take him from behind the way the duchess had, or to have his palm swatting her backside while he claimed her like a stallion covered a brood mare.

Possibilities ran wild in her head and Bram’s mouth moved to her ear. As he plunged into her over and over, he told her how wonderfully good she felt. Although the floor was hard beneath her backside, Kitty spread for him, meeting his forceful, quick thrusts, taking as much pleasure in his brute physical power as she did in the connection between their bodies.

And as suddenly as he had claimed her, his body convulsed once, twice, again…and then he was still.

Instinctively Kitty threaded her fingers into his hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Something had just changed between them, and now she knew she could never hate him as she had previously intended. Instead, there was some other emotion welling within her—one she could not dare identify.

Her passage clenched around him and a shudder tore through his body. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her and instead of passion clouding his stormy eyes, Kitty saw ice. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his gaze moved from her eyes, down their bodies to where they were still connected.

Kitty nearly blurted that it did not matter that he had taken her maidenhead, that she never intended to marry, but Bram lifted himself off her and gaped at the blood tingeing his member.

“Bram,” she said, as something foreboding washed over her.

His gaze collided with hers. “I—” His voice stopped short and then, as he did up his breeches, he stepped over her and marched out of the room.

Kitty’s insides hollowed as she stared at the closed door. Just when she’d thought he had grown a gentleman’s heart, he left her cold.

And ruined.

All in a matter of minutes.

She swallowed hard and pushed herself off the floor. Fluid oozed down her thigh and when she raked her fingers through it, she realized the liquid was a mixture of her blood and his semen.

Good God, what had she done?

Kitty trembled as the ramifications struck with brutal force. She had lain with him. With Bram Barclay.

Staggering against the chair, she fought to keep her head from swimming. Anger flamed against Bram but Kitty knew there was no one but herself to blame. Hot shame flooded her cheeks when she recalled how wantonly she had curled her fingers around his phallus and guided him into her body.

Her insides clenched violently at the memory of his determined thrusts. Kitty shuddered. She had been utterly foolish. What if she were now with child? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

And even if he had not gotten a child on her, her life would never—could never—be the same after this.

How had he enticed her to behave so shamelessly? She had sought only to find the inner quiet she had discovered at the way he stripped her will away. She had not ventured to lose her virginity to him. Not really.

An image of him rearing above her crested in her mind and Kitty squeezed her eyes shut as if she could drive away both the image and the response it evoked in her body.

It was a useless gesture.

He had fucked her and left her without so much as a word and now, she felt stupid and alone and used.

Naked.

She clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. The hateful bastard!

Eyeing the bed, she stormed toward it, snatched off the sheet and wiped her crotch clean with it.

The doorhandle rattled and Kitty gasped, whirling, clutching the stained sheet to her chest.

Mrs. Bush entered Bram’s suite of rooms, her face set and grim—but Kitty’s gaze riveted to the neatly folded clothes in the housekeeper’s arms. Panic surged.

“You have been dismissed. Clothe yourself and leave immediately.”

* * * * *

When she finally closed the door to her own bedroom in her uncle’s house, only then did Kitty shed the first tear. “Fool!” she called herself, swatting the tears away.

She would not cry. Not over a fiend like Bram Barclay.

After all, she was the one who had gone to his estate to gather material for her article. Well, she had gotten information and more. Perhaps she could save some other poor creature the misfortune she had experienced at his hands.

Kitty slid into her chair, the soreness between her legs a painful reminder of what had transpired earlier this morning. She sighed. There was no time to dwell on what she had lost. She had an article to write.

She withdrew her paper, pen and ink and set to work. The words flowed as never before as she told the tale of the innocent servant and the dastardly duke’s son, even comparing him to the Marquis de Sade in his cruelty.

Without another tear dropping, she detailed everything from the beginning of her service to Bram until she was dismissed by Mrs. Bush. Kitty felt as if she were outside herself, watching the events of her own life as she folded the finished article and slid it into an envelope.

After sealing it, she stood and made her way down the stairs and to the post office. The sooner Alistair Allenby’s article was in print, the better. All of England would know the truth about Bram and his reputation would be blackened even further.

Anger and hurt vied for prominence as she dropped the letter in the box and set off on foot back to her house.

She had hoped to feel some sense of triumph upon penning the article but instead, she felt empty inside.

His words echoed in her head. The feel of his palm landing time and again with only the thin barrier of her drawers preventing his skin from touching hers rolled through her in waves. She inhaled sharply when she recalled how it had felt to have him inside her, filling her, stretching her, his pounding thrusts nailing her to the floor with bruising force.

The birds twittering in the trees faded from her hearing. The muddy lane blurred. Kitty’s heart twisted. Mrs. Bush had warned her not to harbor any hopes about Bram.

But wait! That was ridiculous. Kitty refused to believe she had done anything other than gather fodder for her article. She did not care for him! He had proven himself deserving of the rotten reputation he held. Stripping down to her drawers and bending over, submitting to be spanked had only been done under the guise of research. Besides, there would have been little she could have done about him taking her virginity. Doubtless, he would have raped her if she had refused.

But then the memory of how he had hesitated and of how she, herself, had taken him in her own hand to guide him to her channel flooded her thoughts. Heat rolled up spine as she turned onto the lane that led to her house.

As she stepped through the front gate, she stopped short at the sight of a massive black destrier hitched to the post outside her house.

Intuitively Kitty knew the horse belonged to none other than Bram Barclay.

Chapter Six

What could he possibly want here? Kitty’s first thought was to flee but then she decided she would slip in through the servants’ entrance and eavesdrop. Her plan was short-lived. As she neared the house, the door flung open and Kitty froze when she saw Bram’s hulking frame in the doorway.

His eyes widened at the sight of her and she shook as her uncle appeared behind him. The top of Jasper’s head barely reached Bram’s shoulder. The old man waddled out of the house, his face reddening as he trotted toward her. He raised his fist threateningly.

Kitty gasped as he rushed toward her. “Harlot! You fallen woman! How dare you defile my house while living under my roof!”

Bram, riding crop in hand, was close on the old man’s heels. “You will not lay a hand on her! Do you hear me, old man?”

Uncle Jasper gaped breathlessly.

“I am to blame,” Bram told him, his voice stern.

Kitty was incredulous. He had known all along she was a lady and not a servant? Anger quickly replaced surprise. “What are
you
doing here?” she demanded.

Bram’s gaze slid to hers and her body’s reaction infuriated her. Everything inside her constricted with the unsolicited need to feel him connected to her again, with the memory of what had happened only hours earlier.

“He’s come to make an honest woman of you, you…you strumpet!”

Kitty’s gaze darted from her uncle’s to Bram’s. “What does he mean?”

Bram’s lips parted to speak but Uncle Jasper interrupted. “He’s going to marry you before word gets out that you’ve fornicated with him.”

Kitty felt her face grow scarlet. She stared, disbelievingly. Bram wanted to marry her?

Her?

But…

She warred with the joyous knowledge the man who had awakened her body to physical pleasure wanted to marry her, and the fact that she was supposed to hate this man and everything for which he stood.

“N-no,” she uttered.

“No?” both Bram and Uncle Jasper asked in unison.

By this time Kitty’s aunt had appeared in the doorway, holding a handkerchief over her nose and mouth.

Kitty lifted her chin. “I do not wish to marry.”

Now it was Bram’s turn to be angry. Clutching the crop, he marched toward her with long, purposeful strides, not stopping until he was toe to toe with her, her chest pressed against her breasts.

Kitty swallowed thickly.

“You have no choice in this matter.”

The masculine scent of him wafted around her, reducing her to putty in his hands. She struggled to maintain her composure.

“It has already been arranged,” he told her and then he spun on his heel, turning toward Uncle Jasper. He slapped the crop with such force on his thigh it made Kitty shudder. “See that she is before the vicar on the morrow.”

Jasper nodded.

“And if there is a mark on her, I will hold you to account,” Bram warned as he stalked toward his horse.

Kitty stared as he unhitched the monstrous beast, swung himself into the saddle and galloped away.

When he was out of sight, she looked at Uncle Jasper. “I refuse to marry him.”

* * * * *

Bram paced in the front of the church. Where was she? Surely his bride would come to her senses and arrive willingly at the altar. After all, she was the daughter of a baron and marriage to a duke’s heir would be to her advantage.

The church bell had already tolled the hour and the priest stood by looking a bit bewildered.

Bram had known better. He never should have fucked her. He never should have let her stay past the initial interview.

He heaved a sigh. He had never intended to marry and wondered if he had not compromised Katrina simply because he knew it would infuriate his father. He was both marrying below his station and
not
marrying the woman the old bastard had chosen for him.

Possessing Katrina had been on his mind since the first time he had laid eyes on her at the Duke of Blakemore’s party. With chagrin, he recalled not being able to finish with the duchess. That had been days before Katrina had turned into bespectacled Kitty, the curious servant girl, and had requested employment at his estate.

He stopped pacing and looked toward the door. Nothing. “Where are they?” he ground out and resumed walking back and forth.

Bram’s thoughts returned to his father. He was going to be furious when he found out Bram had married a girl who was barely a step above a commoner. Still, the old duke was not looking for a political connection. Not really. He was looking for grandchildren.

Bram squeezed his eyes shut. Children. That was another thing he had never planned—but there was no sense in dwelling on children when the bride had not even bothered to show up.

The church door opened and Bram whirled, his pulse accelerating when he thought he might see Kitty dressed in her bridal finery.

Instead his gaze fell on her fat, balding little uncle. Bram clenched his teeth as, hat in hand, Jasper Hartford slunk down the aisle.

“Where is she?” Bram demanded.

Hartford shrugged apologetically. “She has locked herself in her room, my lord.”

Bram drew in a sharp breath.

“She refuses to come out. She says she will not marry. I am contemplating sending her to a nunnery. You are certainly not obligated to—” Hartford’s words halted as Bram shoved past him.

“Oh, there will be a marriage today. Mark my words.”

* * * * *

Kitty raced to the window when she heard hooves thundering up the lane. She was hardly surprised to see Bram but the look on his face was terrible. He glanced up at her window and Kitty shrank back as if she could hide from him.

Her heart thudded against her rib cage as he dismounted. Seconds afterward, she heard the front door open followed by the sound of footsteps racing up the stairs.

Clutching the skirt of her day gown, she stared at her locked bedroom door.

Bram pounded on the wood. “Come out of there, Kitty!”

“No!”

Why had he not just given up and gone back to his estate to forget she ever existed?

“I will give you until the count of three to unlock this door,” he said from the other side.

“Go away!”

“Blast, Kitty—”

“Go away. I shall not come out and I certainly shall not marry you.”

“Bloody damn hell!”

He did not count at all. Instead, the door splintered as it flew open and slammed against the wall. Bram stood, shoulders heaving with his deep breaths, face flushed, black hair mussed and eyes flashing like summer lightning. His look was murderous.

Kitty clutched the foot rail of her bed.

His gaze raked her from head to toe. “Why are you not dressed?”

She lifted her chin defiantly although on the inside, she quaked. “I told you, I do not intend to marry you or anyone else.”

He had the audacity to laugh. “Yes you will. I command it.”

Kitty inhaled. “You, sir, are no longer my master.”

Two strides and he hauled her into his arms. Kitty gasped as he jerked her against the unyielding length of his body. “I will
always
be your master, Kitty Hartford.” His voice was smooth as black silk as he rocked his hips so that his phallus pressed into the softness between her legs. “And you know it.”

Chills swept Kitty from head to toe. Everything in her body seemed to whirl downward, liquefying her, and while her sex screamed at her to spread for him, she did not. “Unhand me.” She cringed at the meek sound of her own voice.

His gaze dropped to her lips and then returned to her eyes. “I should fuck you right here. Better yet, I should bend you over and give you that spanking you begged for yesterday.”

Kitty swallowed thickly. Dampness oozed from her channel at the thought of him swatting her backside.

“You won’t deny me,” he said, lowering his mouth dangerously close to hers.

What was this power he held over her? Kitty struggled against the desire to allow him to do anything and everything to her despite the fact she hated him. Why could she not cling to the venom she had possessed while writing the article yesterday?

Realization flooded her—the article would destroy them both.

Her breath caught. Although she had not named the Earl of Rochford’s daughter, she had accused him of sullying a woman’s honor and then not marrying her.

If he forced this marriage, then everyone would think she was the woman and assume Allenby had depicted her as a maid to protect her identity. She had wrongly laid blame on him, for if he were the cad she had called him, he would not be here demanding her hand in marriage.

But what of the Earl of Rochford’s daughter? Before she could stop herself, she asked him that very question. “Why did you not offer the same consideration to Rochford’s daughter?”

Bram stared. His eyes flashed with spite. “So you’ve bent an ear to the gossips?”

Kitty trembled but she could not back down now. “Sir, one cannot help but overhear what is spoken so plainly.”

“Did you believe it?”

When Kitty did not answer, he gave her shoulders a shake. “Did you?”

Her mind swept back over the scene she had witnessed in the garden, her stay at Bram’s manor, her quick dismissal—and the article she had written. Yes. She had believed it.

“Is it true?” she asked. “If you are proposing marriage to me, I think I have a right to know.”

“I do not, nor have I ever, wasted my time dispelling rumors about my character,” he snapped.

Kitty’s heart sank. He was the blackguard she had guessed he was.

“However,” he began. “You are correct. You do have a right to know the truth.”

Kitty’s lips parted.

“The woman sought to entrap me. I never sullied her. The father of her bastard is a stableboy in her father’s employ.”

She searched his eyes and instinctively knew he was telling the truth. Something inside her twisted into a hard knot. Why had she acted so hastily?

It was imperative she write her publisher and retract the story immediately. Imperative.

“You are the only lady I have ever…ruined,” he said, his eyes raking her in blatant appraisal. “And while these are not the most advantageous of circumstances, I intend to make you my wife.”

“I…I cannot marry you,” she blurted.

“I do not wish to play games with you right now, Kitty,” he said, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Her channel twisted.
Yes, yes, oh God, yes…

“No!” she cried.

“If it’s dominating you want so badly, I will give it to you,” he said impatiently as he spun her around and bent her over the foot rail of her bed.

Kitty gasped as she felt her skirts being tugged up. This time he did not request she take down her drawers. With one hard yank, he tore them down her legs.

There was no buildup, no insidious caresses. Instead, he swatted her bottom hard and fast.

Kitty did not struggle. She grabbed fistfuls of her covers and buried her face in them, spreading, arching, giving him complete access as the searing heat spread through her backside. This is what she wanted from him. Complete control. To have her will stolen away until she was free to enjoy her body.

The spanking finally stopped and she felt his hand delve between her legs, felt at least two fingers push up hard inside her.

She moaned and spread her aching legs even wider.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “To push me to this? To reduce me to begging you, Kitty?”

She wriggled farther back on his hand, willing him to fuck her with it.

“Marry me, Kitty. Let me take you to the vicar,” he murmured while his fingers teased her below.

“I do not wish to marry any man,” she whimpered as liquid heat thrummed through her veins.

“That’s foolish,” he growled and withdrew his fingers, only to rub her cream up and over her most private recess. “You
will
marry, and you will marry
me
.”

Kitty stilled as the heady heat was replaced with icy panic. Surely he would not invade her there.

But oh—he did.

She tried to surge upward as his fingertip twisted its way into the tight little aperture, but with his free hand, he pushed her back down on the bed.

“I will find your breaking point,” he warned. “If I have to shove my cock in your arse, I will coax you to consent to this marriage.”

Kitty’s pulse accelerated as she felt his finger push inside her until his balled fist was pressed hard against her bottom. Pride caused a hot blush to flame in her cheeks. Shame flooded her—but she was not ashamed because he was doing something so debauched to her. She was ashamed because it felt so good she did not want him to stop.

The nub between her legs throbbed painfully and she shifted restlessly, as if her movements could assuage it.