ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance)

by Tia Siren

  “How is Dom?” Rebecca asked her.

  Catherine sat up. “How did you know I went to speak with Dom?”

  Rebecca laughed. She had dressed for bed in a simple white nightgown. Her bare feet took her across her sister’s room where she sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on Catherine’s knee.

  “Little sister, the only time you’ve ever snuck out of the house at night is to see Dominick.”

  “I didn’t sneak out,” Catherine said, a bit of defensiveness in her voice.

  “Sure,” Rebecca said, content to let her sister believe that if she so wanted. “How is Dom?”

  It was no secret that Rebecca didn’t much care for Dominick, but Catherine had always believed it was simply because her oldest sister was jealous. Rebecca didn’t look like Catherine, or their sister in the middle, Samantha. Where the two younger were slight and delicate, with ample bosoms, Rebecca was tall, taller than most men, and as flat as the boards which made up the side of a barn. She was pretty, her face with nice features, but her frame was simply longer, taller than most men might like. She had been lonely, and the attention her younger sisters got surely bothered her.

  “He’s leaving tomorrow. His whole regiment is being taken on some sort of exercise. For half a year, at least.”

  Rebecca nodded softly. “You have the Duke; maybe this will be good for you, to focus on what you should be focusing on. Without that boy here, you can turn your eyes to the man they should be turned upon.”

  Catherine sighed, but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to argue with Rebecca, and so she let her say what she wanted. When her older sister realized Catherine was content to concede so early, she stood and bent, kissing Catherine on the forehead.

  “Things will look better in the morning,” she promised, and then she left Catherine’s room.

  Catherine lay in her bed, looking at the canopy above her bed. It was a soft pink color and felt almost like silk. She reached up, her fingers brushing along the material, which fell from the canopy to surround her bed. Sometimes it brought her comfort, sometimes it reminded her of years past, better years when she wasn’t promised to some man she hardly knew when she thought she would marry Dominick. That night, however, it brought no comfort.

  The next morning Catherine was woken by the morning light, warm and yellow and lying in a rectangular shaft over her eyes. She blinked and sat up, still dressed in the same gown she had worn to see Dom. She called for a bath, and then undressed while the servant girls went to ready it. One came back in, a young girl with hair the color of straw and a mousy face. She was named Diana, and Catherine liked her very much. She knew the twelve-year-old girl had a crush on one of the boys who worked in the stables.

  “Have you spoken with Horace of late?” Catherine asked, and the girl blushed.

  “No, Lady Catherine,” Diana whispered as she held a robe up.

  “Diana, please, call me Catherine,” the older woman said, and the girl nodded. It was something she had often been told, and something she wasn’t very likely to do. Catherine pulled the robe over her body and allowed Diana to lead her out of her room and to the washroom, where a large tub had been filled with hot water. She dropped the robe to the floor and stepped into the tub, grimacing as the water nipped painfully at her flesh until she was submerged to her neck, and she began to grow accustomed to the heat.

  Diana stood nearby, in case the Lady would need anything.

  “If you like the boy, you should tell him,” Catherine said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the edge of the tub.

  “He would never like me,” Diana said sadly. “Not when there are others around.”

  Catherine opened her eyes and looked to the girl. “Come here,” she said, and Diana stepped forward obediently. Catherine took her small hand with her own wet one. “Never think yourself inferior,” Catherine told the girl. “There will always be someone prettier, or smarter, or better at something. That said, you will always have something better than them. You’re a beautiful young woman, Diana, and you would do well to remember that.”

  The young girl nodded, and Catherine smiled to her, and then, to ease the mood she made a silly face and sank completely into the tub. When she surfaced, she could hear the girl giggling, and she reached for a towel to dry her eyes.

  After her bath, Catherine and Diana returned to her room, and two other servant girls came in to help Catherine dress. She chose a gown of lilac, with a white lace that ran along the skirt, and a shawl to drape over her arms, because it was growing a bit chilly as the fall came on strong.

  Just as she was finishing up being dressed, there was a knock upon her door.

  “Come in,” Catherine said, turning so Diana could lace the back of the dress up. The door opened, and another servant came in, an older woman named Helen whom Catherine had known since she was a small child.

  “Lady Catherine,” Helen said, in her shaky voice. She had been sick of late, and Catherine was beginning to worry about her health.

  “Hello Helen,” Catherine said. “Care to sit down?” she added, motioning with one hand to a chair which sat pushed into a small writing desk.

  “No ma’am,” Helen said. “I’ve come to tell you Duke Rotham has called upon you. He awaits you in the drawing room.

  Catherine smiled and nodded on her exterior, but inside, she felt a cold hand seize her, possibly grabbing her heart. As she stood there, being laced up, Dom was surely on his way out of the city while the man she was being forced to marry was right beneath her feet, in her home. Tears threatened to come once again, in an instant, but the young woman willed them away.

  “Please tell him I’ll be right down,” Catherine said, and Helen bowed her head and went out.

  “Perhaps I will love a man and marry him the way you love and will marry the Duke,” Diana said in a hopeful voice. It pained Catherine, but she nodded. “I’m sure it will be so,” she said.

  ****

  Duke Rotham was a tall man but with a wiry frame, thin and lean. Where Dominick was large and muscular, built seemingly for strength, the Duke was built for speed. He was lithe, and though athletic, he could never hope to best someone like Dominick in a test of physicality.

  Rotham stood from the parlor chair in which he had been sitting when Catherine walked in. She went up to him without hesitation, and he took one of her hands and bowed his head so that he may kiss it.

  “My dear Lady Catherine,” he said.

  “Duke Rotham,” Catherine said, bowing slightly. “What brings you here?”

  “Well it isn’t much of a nice day, I must admit,” the Duke said, nodding his head towards the nearest window. “I’m afraid the cold winds are coming a bit sooner than I would like, but I am going on a trip and wanted to extend an invitation to you.”

  “A trip?” Catherine asked, and for one wild moment she thought for some reason that Duke Rotham would be going where Dom was.

  “A hunting trip,” the Duke said. “Fox of course. At this time of the year, they are simply teeming on the countryside.”

  “You wish me to hunt?” Catherine asked, somewhat shocked. The Duke laughed.

  “No, my dear, I wish you to come along. Many of the men have their wives come, or the ladies they fancy. There is a series of cabins, we all stay in when hunting out past Westerfield. The women befriend one another, and manage to fill our bellies when we return each evening after a long day.”

  Catherine was already shaking her head, and he saw that and stopped speaking.

  “I’m sorry, Duke,” she said. “Hunting…. I abhor it… to even be around such cruelty, I must admit my stomach would not be strong enough for it.”

  Duke Rotham smiled, but the young woman could see the disappointment in his eyes, there was no way he could hide it.

  “There is no cruelty when I hunt,” Rotham said. “It is a match of wits and speed,” he went on. “To catch a fox, you need both.”

  “And dogs to rip
it apart,” Catherine said, suddenly emboldened, but by what she didn’t know.

  Duke Rotham shook his head softly. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He paused. ”You know, I would ask that young man who you are so in love with about cruelty,” he said.

  “Dominick?”

  “Yes, the young soldier.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” Catherine stuttered, and the Duke laughed, not in a spiteful or mean way, he was simply genuinely amused.

  “Of course you are, my dear,” he said. “But I would implore you to ask him about his past. Ask him about Ginger Street.”

  Catherine looked up at the Duke, trying to decipher what he was speaking of. She knew Ginger Street. That was the small street in a town some distance from here, where Dom and his regiment had been set upon by the locals suddenly, three years ago. And that was all she knew.

  “What do you speak of?” Catherine asked, wishing the Duke would just be plain with her.

  He shook his head. “It is not for me to say, it is for him to tell you,” he said. “But I assure you, I am not a cruel man, and I will make you happy when we are married. I don’t think your soldier can say the same. He can say it, but he can’t live it.”

  “I will marry you because it is expected of me,” Catherine said in a low, soft voice. “But I will not love you.”

  And with that the meeting was at an end, and Duke Rotham turned and exited the room. Catherine watched him go, her head, and heart, a ball of confusion.

  The days stretched on without Dominick, and Catherine found herself often sad, often on the verge of tears, without ever really understanding why, or having something happen to her which would make her feel that way. There was just an uncomfortable sadness that rested upon her shoulders, as though she had draped herself in a blanket wet with cold water.

  One day, after a light lunch in the garden with her mother and sisters, Catherine remained at the table after it had been cleared and the others had gone.

  The garden was her favorite place to be on the grounds, with it’s thick and prickly green bushes, and flowers of any color one could imagine. It was growing cold, however, and none of the flowers were in bloom, and it made Catherine’s mood only grow sourer.

  “Something troubles you, sister,” Rebecca said as she returned to the garden and sat across from the younger woman.

  “What are you speaking about?” Catherine asked.

  “A blind man could see it,” Rebecca said with a laugh, and the sound was so mirthful, so happy, that Catherine couldn’t help but join in herself.

  “It’s that obvious?” she asked.

  “Indeed. I would even wager a guess as to what the problem is.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Well,” Rebecca began, “the love of your life has been gone for going on a month, now, and has many more to go. Meanwhile you’re betrothed to a man you don’t love, and worry that your nuptials will be forthcoming.”

  Catherine smiled and nodded. “Quite right, about it all.”

  “Would you care to hear my advice?” Rebecca asked.

  “No, but I believe you’ll tell me anyway.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Right. Forget about Dominick. He is a nasty boy with nasty thoughts. The Duke is a true gentleman. A man of honor.”

  Catherine shook her head slowly. “If only it were that easy,” she said, and then she stood and moved from the table.

  With days less than three months left until Dominick returned home, Catherine was given the news she had feared was coming. Her father called her into his study, and when she entered she was surprised to see Duke Rotham sitting across from her father, with a small table between them, on which sat two glasses of sherry.

  “My dear,” her father said as he stood. He was a round man, tall and strong but gone soft in the middle. His face was fat and red most of the time, but almost always cheerful. It helped that he was often drunk, and as he kissed his daughter on the cheek she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Duke,” Catherine said shortly, with a slight bow. If it offended the Duke, he did not show it, and her father made no mention of it at all, so the conversation began.

  Her father wasted no time telling her the news.

  “You two shall be married, on April the fifth,” her father said.

  “What?” Catherine said, her face full of shock. She turned to the Duke. “I’m not ready! I thought there would be time.”

  The Duke smiled softly, and reached out and took his betrothed’s hand. “My dear, I would wait forever if not for your father. He yearns to see a daughter married, and I shouldn’t hold that from him any longer.”

  “It will be a grand wedding,” her father said, slapping the Duke informally on the back.

  Catherine felt tears well in her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall. She didn’t want the Duke to see her cry.

  ****

  The Months passed slowly, and each new day brought a new wave of pain. Until, finally, the day came where Catherine woke and was excited. There had been word late that night that Dominick’s regiment had come back in the middle of the night. Diana had been the one to tell Catherine, waking her up in the dead of night. Catherine didn’t think she'd be able to go back to sleep, but she had, just an hour before dawn.

  She was dressed quickly and then went out to get the carriage before her father could. Samuel was there already since the sun had been hanging in the sky for just under an hour by then. She climbed into the carriage after relaying her desired destination, and they set off.

  Dominick lived on his father’s land, in a small cottage on the corner, near the river. The carriage pulled in front of the house, and Catherine dashed out before it had even fully stopped. She knocked on the wooden front door and waited impatiently for Dominick to answer. He took so long in doing so that she was worried Diana had heard incorrectly, but then the door was opened, just a sliver, and Dom was peeking out.

  “Dom!” Catherine shouted, forgetting the fact that Samuel sat waiting on the carriage, and she leaped forward, forcing the door open, and threw her arms around the young man. She pressed her lips to his

  “Catherine!” Dom said, trying to pull her off.

  “What is it?”

  “Samuel.”

  “Oh, who cares, he’s not even looking,” She said, glancing over at the old man. In fact, he was busying himself with eating an apple, and looking off into the distance. He was a particularly good servant and knew how to look away when he was really paying attention.

  “How did you know I was home?” Dominick asked, and it occurred to Catherine that he was speaking lowly, in a voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I had heard… that you arrived last night. Why are you acting strangely?”

  “I’m not acting strangely,” Dominick said. For the first time, she noticed that he was dressed hastily.

  “You don’t seem excited to see me,” Catherine said.

  “I can see you later, I’m just tired,” Dominick said, but then another voice spoke up, from inside Dom’s small cottage. It was a woman.

  “Come back to bed,” the woman called. Dominick looked as though he had just been punched in the stomach, and for a moment Catherine balled up her fist and considered doing just that, but then instead she remembered herself, and she spun without a word and marched back to the carriage. She climbed inside and spared a look back at Dominick, expecting him to be coming after her, but instead she saw he was simply standing in the same place he had been, and her anger grew so great it felt as though she could breathe fire.

  She had Samuel take her to Duke Rotham’s manor, instead of her own home. He was home, and was let in by a servant, and he met her in his parlor. He offered her a drink, but she didn’t speak. She walked up to him, more boldly than she had ever done anything in her life, and she pressed her lips to his. He was surprised for a moment; she could feel his body tense against hers, but then he gave into it, and his arms went around her, and her kissing him bec
ame them kissing each other.

  There was a lounge sofa there, long with an arm on one end and along one side, and Andrew Rotham lost himself. He had been surprised; he had only meant to kiss her, but then he was taking her up into his arms and lifting her to the sofa. He sat her upon it and then sat beside her. Their kisses were passionate, deep and long. Their tongues danced together, and he tasted her, a taste of strawberries and cream. He tasted like a man should; like Dominick never had. Bourbon, a hint of cigar smoke. It was intoxicating.

  The parlor was open, anyone of the servants could walk in, and Andrew often had guests, but neither of them seemed to care at that moment. She lay back, pulling him along. He was atop of her. But then he broke away.

  “We shouldn’t… the wedding night…” he breathed.

  “Now,” she said. “I want to now.”

  No man could resist a woman as beautiful as Catherine Dalton saying that, and so Duke Rotham didn’t even try. His hand went to her bosom, there were buttons there, but he simply grabbed the material and pulled, and the buttons popped off, and her breasts came spilling out. His hands were strong, his fingers long and packed with sinew. He groped at her, and she felt her nipples harden against each of his palms.

  He bent his head and moved his hands, and his lips replaced one hand. He licked in a slow circle around one rosebud nipple, the deep red of rich wine. Catherine threw her head back. She moaned. He caught the sound with his mouth, stifled it. Her hands were at his waist, and she fumbled to open them there. Finally, she did, and his member came forth, engorged and hard and throbbing in the air along with his heartbeat.

  Her delicate fingers wrapped around him, and he groaned in her ear. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and she nodded.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Andrew took a hold of her gown, pushed the skirt up over her hips. She wore hose, but they only went to her thigh so that they could be left on. Her smallclothes were another story, and these he pulled down quickly.