time, she wanted to explore those other fascinating parts of his body. His heavy scrotum swayed as he climbed onto the bed.
Kitty followed him and drew the covers over their bodies.
He emitted a velvety moan as he dragged her into his arms, pulling her head down on his chest. Kitty’s breath froze as she grew accustomed to being so intimate with a man. For some reason, this was far more personal than the sexual escapades they had shared. Sleeping with someone meant giving up far more than control. It meant trusting someone implicitly.
Disappointment that he did not claim her vied with relief and Kitty knew this was insane but, above all else, she wanted it. She wanted to sleep here in this man’s arms, to feel the slow, even rise and fall of his chest, to breathe the scent of his skin and his sex.
She closed her eyes and slept.
* * * * *
When Kitty opened her eyes the next morning, realization flooded her that she was naked and snuggled against the back of a man who, for all practical purposes, she was supposed to loathe. She froze, too terrified to move, but when her eyes focused she was unable to stifle a gasp.
Etched into Bram’s back were deep, old welts that, on closer examination, Kitty realized were scars. She bit her lip. Who had inflicted these wounds on him? Some ardent lover?
Someone like the Duchess of Blakemore?
Something ugly roiled inside Kitty and she could not believe she would be envious over a man like Bram.
These scars were evidence of torture, however. They were nothing like the sensuous spankings Bram had meted out to her. Each welt was proof that his skin had been ripped open and had bled. Kitty bit her lip. He had been ripped open enough to leave deep, disfiguring scars. Unable to resist, she lifted her hand and traced one of the welts with the tip of her finger.
Bram abruptly flipped around, his eyes wide and fierce.
Kitty shrank.
For a moment he seemed confused. His gaze raked her face and bare shoulder and then he looked down at his naked chest. His eyes narrowed as, obviously, realization flooded him. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice rough with sleep.
“Nothing…”
His eyes turned to cold steel. “What did we do?”
“Nothing…Master.”
And then, as if he did not believe her, he sat up and jerked back the covers. Kitty’s cheeks burned as she realized he was looking for the blood of her maidenhead on the sheets.
He seemed relieved when he did not find it and then he slid out of the bed, immediately turning so she could not see his back. Kitty tried not to stare as he drew on a burgundy silk robe but it was hard not to look upon his exquisitely sculpted body. In the daylight, he was far more comely even than he had been in the glow of the fire and Kitty struggled to shake the haze of lust in order to think clearly.
Why would it matter to a man like him if he sullied a lowly maid’s honor? And, more importantly, what had happened to his back to cause those unsightly welts? Everything inside her screamed to ask him what had happened and why, but she knew better.
“What am I to do, Master?” she asked softly.
He turned and Kitty felt gloriously naked under his lurid gaze. The muscles in her thighs tightened and for a moment, she thought he might ravage her.
“Set this room to rights,” he said, dashing her hopes as he gathered his clothes and then left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Kitty stared after him. Bram Barclay was a man who harbored more secrets than she had ever imagined.
Chapter Five
Bram had never once dressed himself in any room of this house other than his own. His jaw clenched as he tugged on his suit coat. He had never intended to sleep next to her. He had never intended to let her get that close.
Something warm spiraled downward inside him at the memory of her naked in his bed. Her blonde hair looked so beautifully soft and inviting, fragrant with the warm scent of her. He had wanted nothing more than to roll her onto
Kitty followed him and drew the covers over their bodies.
He emitted a velvety moan as he dragged her into his arms, pulling her head down on his chest. Kitty’s breath froze as she grew accustomed to being so intimate with a man. For some reason, this was far more personal than the sexual escapades they had shared. Sleeping with someone meant giving up far more than control. It meant trusting someone implicitly.
Disappointment that he did not claim her vied with relief and Kitty knew this was insane but, above all else, she wanted it. She wanted to sleep here in this man’s arms, to feel the slow, even rise and fall of his chest, to breathe the scent of his skin and his sex.
She closed her eyes and slept.
* * * * *
When Kitty opened her eyes the next morning, realization flooded her that she was naked and snuggled against the back of a man who, for all practical purposes, she was supposed to loathe. She froze, too terrified to move, but when her eyes focused she was unable to stifle a gasp.
Etched into Bram’s back were deep, old welts that, on closer examination, Kitty realized were scars. She bit her lip. Who had inflicted these wounds on him? Some ardent lover?
Someone like the Duchess of Blakemore?
Something ugly roiled inside Kitty and she could not believe she would be envious over a man like Bram.
These scars were evidence of torture, however. They were nothing like the sensuous spankings Bram had meted out to her. Each welt was proof that his skin had been ripped open and had bled. Kitty bit her lip. He had been ripped open enough to leave deep, disfiguring scars. Unable to resist, she lifted her hand and traced one of the welts with the tip of her finger.
Bram abruptly flipped around, his eyes wide and fierce.
Kitty shrank.
For a moment he seemed confused. His gaze raked her face and bare shoulder and then he looked down at his naked chest. His eyes narrowed as, obviously, realization flooded him. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice rough with sleep.
“Nothing…”
His eyes turned to cold steel. “What did we do?”
“Nothing…Master.”
And then, as if he did not believe her, he sat up and jerked back the covers. Kitty’s cheeks burned as she realized he was looking for the blood of her maidenhead on the sheets.
He seemed relieved when he did not find it and then he slid out of the bed, immediately turning so she could not see his back. Kitty tried not to stare as he drew on a burgundy silk robe but it was hard not to look upon his exquisitely sculpted body. In the daylight, he was far more comely even than he had been in the glow of the fire and Kitty struggled to shake the haze of lust in order to think clearly.
Why would it matter to a man like him if he sullied a lowly maid’s honor? And, more importantly, what had happened to his back to cause those unsightly welts? Everything inside her screamed to ask him what had happened and why, but she knew better.
“What am I to do, Master?” she asked softly.
He turned and Kitty felt gloriously naked under his lurid gaze. The muscles in her thighs tightened and for a moment, she thought he might ravage her.
“Set this room to rights,” he said, dashing her hopes as he gathered his clothes and then left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Kitty stared after him. Bram Barclay was a man who harbored more secrets than she had ever imagined.
Chapter Five
Bram had never once dressed himself in any room of this house other than his own. His jaw clenched as he tugged on his suit coat. He had never intended to sleep next to her. He had never intended to let her get that close.
Something warm spiraled downward inside him at the memory of her naked in his bed. Her blonde hair looked so beautifully soft and inviting, fragrant with the warm scent of her. He had wanted nothing more than to roll her onto
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