Page 28 of The Duke's Pet

He pressed his hand to her cheek, turning her to face him. He narrowed his eyes and studied her.

“Is there a problem... Sir?”

He pulled in a deep breath then released it in a long, low sigh. “You wouldn’t consider stealing from me, would you?”

“No, of course not.” She pressed her hand to her chest and huffed as though very affronted.

“It goes against the teachings of the Bible.” He nodded at her cross.

“I am not a thief.” She clenched her jaw so tight she feared for the survival of her teeth. It was true, she wasn’t a thief, had never taken anything in her life. But now... yes, she was considering it.

He slipped his hand from the small of her back to her right buttock. He squeezed in, his grip tightening.

“Oh!” she gasped and gripped his shoulder.

He dragged her near, so close their chests touched. “Good, because if you take something of mine, if you steal from me, you will think that last punishment was a walk in the park.” He dipped his head, so their noses almost connected. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Of course.”

It was impossible to maintain his eye contact when he’d read her thoughts exactly.

He released his grip on her poor ass. “And now I have made myself clear, we can commence to our evening.” He smiled, touched her gently, and gestured toward the dining room.

She pulled in a deep breath and looked heavenward. It was clear the duke would treat her harshly should he catch her pocketing something, but would God be the same? Would He forgive her sin? Would she be able to live with herself?

“I have dined alone for a long time, longer than I care to remember,” he said. “I can say sincerely that I am looking forward to your company.”

“I am glad.” She smiled up at him. He truly was a fine-looking man, with excellent bone structure and clear skin. She could only imagine how Emily would coo and swoon if she were here.

But she’s not. I am.

She smiled; perhaps it wasn’t so bad here after all.

Jemima had never tasted port, but once in the huge dining room was happy to try it.

The duke handed it to her in a small glass with a long stem. It tasted rich and thick and coated her tongue.

“It is to your pleasing?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I like it.”

He smiled. “Good.”

She got the impression he enjoyed seeingherenjoy something. “Can I ask you something?”

“I might not answer.”

She inclined her head. “What is your name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Perhaps there will come a time I need to call it out.”

He raised his right eyebrow.

Heat rushed over her neck to her cheeks. She realized what she’d said. That she might call out during sex. “I mean...”

He chuckled. “I know what you mean. My name is Gerard.” He turned and topped up his glass. Not hers because she’d barely taken any. “What is your name, little kitten?”

---