Page 58 of Brutal Serpent

“Pigs are nasty creatures,” St. Erth said reflectively. “Did you know they’ll eat anything? Even disobedient saucy wives?”

I shrieked again, trying to arch my back away from their huge bodies and curious mouths and one of them grabbed my lace, yanking it down. For one foolish second, I tried to grab for it, and my hands brushed sharp teeth, and I screamed, wriggling madly in his arms.

He tipped me so far down my head was now amongst them, and when one of them snatched my bonnet, chewing on it with horrible growling snorts, the Viscount asked again, “Do you love me?”

“You forced me to marry you!” I whimpered, and he shook me then.

“I did,” he said in a voice like chipped stone. “There isnothingI would not do to own you.”

The bonnet had completely disappeared down the hog’s mouth and the animal’s nose began snuffling back toward me.

“All right, all right,” I moaned resentfully. “I will love you.”

Then he flipped me back over the side and pressed me into the fence posts.

“Be sure that you do,” St. Erth said complacently, and he twisted my long dress up in his hands and fucked me against the fence, hard and fast this time, the front of my ball gown shredding against the splintery wood. I gripped on as hard as I could to keep my head from going through the boards, my husband’s cock pounding into my cunt.

CHAPTER 28

Catherine

Afew days after the ball, St. Erth announced that we were going to visit Bath.

“Would you like that, Kitten?” he asked, taking a sip of tea as we sat under a shady tree.

“Yes, I would,” I cried eagerly. “Very much.”

His lips curved up. “Good. But what would happen if youdidn’twant to go?”

I bit my lip but I forced myself to meet his eyes.

“You would take me anyway.”

“That’s right, Viscountess,” St. Erth said with satisfaction. “Perhaps you’ll make a proper wife yet.”

When I smelled the sea, my heart gave a great leap inside me. Why, the smell of it was even better than I had dreamed. Fresh and sharp and salt and sea!

Bath was crowded, full of the Ton escaping to the seaside during the heat of the year in London, or there to try to cure their ailments by taking the waters there.

But although it was crowded, St. Erth had managed to secure a very pretty soft cream-colored house overlooking the beach, and we walked along the crowded pathways.

The wind whipped my hair, and I felt that wild untamed excitement unfurl inside me.

After a cold meat luncheon, we went to the Pump Room to take the waters. I smelled the sharp tang of the mineral water, my stomach roiling.

I took one tentative sip.

“Drink up,” my husband ordered sharply and I looked apprehensively at the small cup.

I didn’t want to defy him, but I didn’t think I could manage any more of the health cure.

“My stomach doesn’t feel so good,” I said in a small voice.

He raised immaculate eyebrows, and with one swift hand he grabbed a nearby almanac, counting rapidly back through the weeks.

There was a gleam in his eyes, and he took one curl in a big hand, brushing my cheek with calloused fingertips.

“Oh, Kitten. What a good girl you are.”

---