Page 17 of The Duke's Pet

She pursed her lips. There was no way she was willingly agreeing to that.

“My job is solitary,” he went on, “necessarily so. You will keep me company in here. Quiet, obedient company.”

She remained silent.

“Say that you understand.”

She swallowed and thought of the earning opportunities that lay ahead if she complied. “If that is your wish, Sir.”

He nodded and touched her cross that now sat just beneath the leather collar. After a moment he slipped his touch lower and reached for the lace on the front of her dress, where the bodice was held in place.

She whimpered and pressed against the glass pane behind her.

“Shh.” Very slowly he undid it. The material loosened, slackening around her ribs.

He had such a look of concentration on his face as the laces undid that she found herself as transfixed as he was. This striking man was like no one she’d ever met before. But perhaps all dukes were strange with odd requests. She’d never encountered one previously.

“Little kittens do not wear clothes,” he said softly. “And I have ensured it is warm in here, with the fire and the sunlight.”

Oh, dear Lord above. This was it. He was going to take her maidenhood. Once naked that was the only thing that would happen, she was sure of it. And then he’d have an entire week to repeat the act over and over again.

A tremble set up home in her guts and shivered its way down to her knees, which suddenly felt weak.

“I wish you to discard this dress.” He pulled the last of the lace and the material shimmied to the edge of her shoulders, gaping at the front.

With her belly tight, and her knees now locked, she allowed the dress to fall to her hips.

He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and clasped the material. With a gentle tug he sent it on its way over her petticoat to puddle on the floor around her ankles.

“No chemise?”

“No, Sir.”

Her slight breasts were exposed, the nipples hard and tipped slightly upward. Her skin was sheet-white and a shiver went over her, not out of cold, but out of trepidation.

“How old are you?” he asked, his voice low and husky, almost a whisper as he gazed at her chest.

“Twenty-one, Sir.”

“That is a grand age to be a virgin.”

“My mother told me to wait until my wedding night. She said that was God’s wish.”

He raised his eyebrows and lifted his attention from her breasts. “You are a good daughter to obey her and to live by the word of God.”

“I loved her and my father.” She paused. “And I want to do the right thing.”

“They have passed?”

“Yes.”

“And now here you are, with me.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and cupped the underside of her right breast.

She hitched in a breath. His palm was warm and his touch gentle. He ran his thumb over her nipple.

“I am the first to do this?”

“Yes, Sir.”

---