Page 52 of The Duke's Pet

Chapter Eleven

The duke marched herswiftly to the manor. She barely bothered to look around for signs of anyone else; she was too anxious about what would happen when they got there. Surely he didn’t mean to strike her with the cane.

What she’d done had been disobedient, foolhardy even, but to be striped with that?

And with the tail in place?

Surely not.

He pushed through the huge front door and it slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud. The sound made Jemima feel even more at his mercy and in his lair.

She glanced at the stag’s head on the wall. Its glassy eyes seemed to follow her.

When they entered the study, she gulped.

The fire had dwindled to embers and the sun had shifted around so that it streamed in over the table she’d spilled the water on the day before.

He was silent as he propped the cane against the wall and undid his right cuff. He rolled it up once, twice, three times then repeated the action with the opposite cuff.

Jemima stared at his fingers as they worked. They were long and slim, dotted with paint and his nails trimmed neatly.

A quiver attacked her belly and she felt for the tail behind herself.

“Turn around.”

“Please, I am sorry.”

“I know you are. Now turn around.”

“No.” The word had popped from her mouth.

“I beg your pardon.” He frowned.

She pointed outside. “It was your fault for making me go out there naked. I would never have climbed the tree if you hadn’t made me do that.”

“It is true I made you go outside naked, but it was you and you alone who leapt into a tree and got stuck.”

“Because of what—”

“Silence!” He held up the cane.

She eyed it warily. It was hard and solid and would spread a painful line over her rump should it connect.

“It’s clear you are not sorry after all,” he said. “For putting yourself in peril.”

“I am, but... not the cane. Please.”

“That is not for you to decide.”

---