Page 48 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

His gaze snapped back to the rafters. Seemed easier.

Clearing his throat, Demon rolled his shoulders. “I am not planning on giving Lady Georgia a gift.” Although as soon as he said that, he realized he wanted to, gibbering hash-tits. “I…she is in pain. Uncomfortable. I wish to make it stop.”

“In pain, m-m-milord?” whispered shy Mary.

Please dinnae make me say it. He unclasped his hands enough to gesture toward his hips. “Women’s pain.”

Mrs. Kettel hummed. “Och, aye. I used to get that with Mr. Kettel at times. Just go slower next time, milord, and ensure she’s properly lubricated.”

Demon closed his eyes, not able to believe he was having this conversation with his staff.

“Things are going…fine in that department, Mrs. Kettel,” he said stiffly. “I’m referring more to…” This time his gesture was more circular, taking in his entire abdomen and groinal region. “Women’s pain.”

“Men are usually women’s biggest pain, milord, but ye’re no’ lodged in our lower intestine.” Mrs. Kettel sniffed. “Unless ye’re my great-aunt Millie’s first husband. He was murdered by a jealous lover and chopped up and fed to—”

“I think he m-m-means cramps, Auntie.”

At Mary’s comment, Demon’s eyes flashed open. “Aye, those!” he burst out gratefully, gesturing encouragingly to Mary. “How do I make them stop?”

His housekeeper hummed knowingly. “Ham. Lots of ham. And spinach. Och, and vinegar always helps me, although I’ve heard it can give others gas. Celery is to be avoided—”

“Mrs. Kettel,” Demon interrupted sternly, “I suspect ye have verra little idea what I’m speaking of.”

She beamed. “I rarely do, milord.”

But her niece placed a hand on her arm to quiet her. “Ye cannae make the cramping go away, m-m-milord. Only time does that.”

He frowned at her. “I dinnae like seeing her in pain.” It was difficult to admit. “How do I make her feel better?”

“Just kenning ye feel that way m-m-might help.” Mary tapped her finger against her chin. “Heat, too. And rubbing the area. Ye could take her a hot water bottle, or s-s-surprise her with some treat.”

“A treat?” He should be taking notes.

The maid’s expression turned dreamy. “Like chocolates. Every woman appreciates chocolates when she’s feeling puirly.”

Chocolates and a hot water bottle and massage. Right. Well, he could manage that, could he not?

With a nod of thanks to the blushing Mary, Demon yanked open the back door and stalked through the garden toward the stables. Chocolates and heat and massage. He could fix this. He could fix her. The idea of leaving Georgia in pain was unforgivable.

It wasn’t until he was swinging into the saddle that he realized what he was planning.

Ye’re just going to ride into Banchot? Stroll into a shop and buy some chocolates?

Aye, he could. He kicked Bullet into motion. He would, and he’d buy an extra box of chocolates for Mary, to thank her for the advice.

Ye dobber, ye ken what the people of Banchot think of ye! Ye’re cursed! The last time ye went into the village, the goddamned church burned down!

First of all, it was the gravedigger’s hut, not the church. Second of all, that hadn’t been his fault at all, but Blackrose’s, who had been trying to kill Rourke’s family. Third of all…goddamn, there wasn’t a third.

He growled and urged Bullet faster. He was Baron Endymion, lord of Banchot, like his father before him.

Perhaps it was time he started acting like it.

* * *

Georgia was sure that there’d been a time in her life she’d been more miserable than she was right now…she just couldn’t recall when.

He left her!

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