Page 14 of Hawthorne

I almost forgot my baby girl needs to be let out.

Pressing the switch to turn on the light, I see her right away, rushing to me. With a quick bend down, I scoop her into my arm and rush outside to the orchard, passing through the kitchen.

Getting used to Primrose was hard at first. Mrs Elizabeth was already somewhat debilitated, and I saw the dog as anotherchore. But she was adamant, claiming she would brighten up our days.

And that she did. She’s now my only living connection to the only person I had left.

But Primrose is still young, not even a full year old, and enduring long periods without going out to pee is still a challenge. At least she is so intelligent and learned from an early age to ask to go outside.

Such a clever girl.

Let’s just hope I can keep her a secret from the duke for a little longer. At least until I can prove to him that she can live here without disturbing anyone else.

May even be my head playing tricks, but there’s this inherent fear of having to give her away. I mean, I couldn’t.

I’d probably leave with her.

“Come on, girl. After all of those quick pees you had to do, you deserve your little freedom,” I whisper.

After so much work with the duke moving in, her leisure outside today was quite limited. Especially so the duke or his mother wouldn’t see her. But now, I can pay my girl some well-deserved attention.

In a matter of ten minutes, Primrose is ready from peeing, pooping, and sniffing around. That’s when she starts to tease me, entering into our routine of late-night fun. We play for a good while, with her chasing the sticks I throw or dodging my overbearing pets.

The fun is cut short when, in the midst of all of the excitement, she starts to bark uncontrollably.

“Shush, girl,” I hiss, picking her up. “We can’t let the duke hear you.”

She calms down as soon as she’s in my arms, turning her belly up for some more love.

“You silly girl,” I coo as I open the kitchen door with her tucked on my side. “How many more times will you wake me up in the middle of the night? You need to work on that bladder, or I’ll become a zombie.”

The unmistakable sound of a throat being cleared startles me. I gasp the moment my eyes meet the dark gaze of the duke, and the surprise of the moment makes me stumble backwards. With my foot getting caught in something, I lose balance, and my body propels backwards.

My only thought is to hold Primrose close to my chest as she yelps in terror. I close my eyes as I prepare for impact, but it never comes. Instead, strong and warm hands grasp my waist, sending goosebumps all over. Even with my eyes shut tightly, it feels like blinding white sparks are flying around us.

It’s only when a ragged breath hits my face that I slowly open my eyes.

His piercing brown gaze is locked on mine and way closer than I thought. Heat creeps up my body in reaction to the proximity, but none of us makes a move. Frozen in place and lost in each other. From this close, I can see the golden specks that lighten up his irises, and they’re beautiful.

Keep your composure, Camilla.

In a weak attempt to do so, I try to take a deep breath, only for it to come out as ragged as his was. When his eyes make visual contact with my lips, his pupils dilate, robbing the irises of their space and darkening his gaze. From beautiful to dark and intense in just one second. Slowly, his head starts to lower, cutting in on the little distance there is between us.

This is not proper, and out of the both of us—and as a woman and employee—I should be the one with enough self-control. My job could be at stake.Except, I don’t have the self-control.

For the first time in my life, rationality is not taking the best of me. His presence clouds my judgement and only lets me runwith nothing but my instincts and desires. And right now, I want him here, with his forehead touching mine and his lips just a ghost of touching my own.

Intoxicating.

Then, a small cry breaks us out of our daze. As we both look down at the same time, we see an overly eager Primrose wagging her tail and struggling to free herself from my hold. She manages to press her front paws on my arm, propelling her body up to get a whiff of the duke.

My eyes widen when I notice her inching even closer, and I try to divert her, but it’s too late. Her sloppy and humid tongue rolls out, licking the duke’s cheek, leaving a path of drool behind.

I gasp in horror and jump out of his hold. At the same time, the duke’s breath hitches, and his face morphs into an expression of shock.

“Your Grace, I am so sorry,” I apologise frantically. “She’s still a baby. She was the duchess’ dog, and she gets overly excited when she meets new people. I am sorry. I promise I’ll teach her better.”

Then, the unexpected happens.

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