Page 39 of The Duke's Pet

“I’m honored, though really, it’s not necessary.” She wanted to add he could wear whatever he wanted. This was his house and he was paying her to be his companion.

He stepped up to the bed, his posture tall, his chin tilted. He’d clearly shaved too, and his chin was smooth, though there was one tiny nick to the right of his lip.

“I understand this arrangement is somewhat unusual. But forgive my imagination and my desires.”

She nodded and stared into his eyes. She saw what he likely saw in hers—a mix of desire and anticipation. Though with her there was also some trepidation. He was the master after all, and she the servant girl sent for his amusement.

“And now,” he said, “I must return to my study and work. You should use the tub, which is in front of a lit fire in the room next door, and then come and join me.” He nodded at a small table beside the bed. “There is tea there.”

“Did Mrs. Cook come in?” How could she not have noticed? And what would the woman think if she’d seen Jemima lying there, shoulders bare out of the covers?

“You forget, Mrs. Cook sees very little, she goes by touch.” He smiled. “But no, she left the tray outside the door, as she always does.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Your naked body, so we’re clear, is for my eyes only.”

She nodded.

“Do you understand?” His voice was a little sharper than it had been.

She paused, then answered, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I will see you downstairs when you are ready.” He straightened. “Naked. No petticoat today. I wish to see all of you.”

Naked?

He left the room and Jemima pushed the sheet away and ran her hands down over her chest. Her nipples were tight and her breasts tingled. The duke had lit something in her that hadn’t been there before, or if it had, then it had been kept buried deep.

He wants me naked.

She’d spent her life to date working hard on the land to survive, struggling to stay warm in the winter and caring for her parents. Now she was not called upon to do those duties, here at Hillcrest—for this week at least food was served on a tray, each room had a fire lit, and a handsome man was preempting her needs.

And I have to be naked.

She stood and went to the water closet. After that she opened the door to the adjoining room. It was smaller than the main bedroom but still contained a handsome bed though not a four-poster. A fire crackled in the hearth and before it stood a tin bath with steam rising from it.

Did Mrs. Cook carry this all the way up from the kitchen?

A needle of worry poked at her. Mrs. Cook was old and had enough to do without fussing over her, another employee of the duke’s, even if he had ordered it.

Jemima made a pact with herself that if the subject should arise, she’d suggest the duke got another maid, someone to help Mrs. Cook. She just had to be careful that her mention of the matter didn’t mean he got rid of Mrs. Cook altogether.

But he’s a kind soul. Or at least he has been to me.

She stepped up to the water and squeezed her buttocks together. The lingering sting of her spanking had gone. It hadn’t been cruel of him to spank her, she’d deserved it. Some employers would beat or whip a staff member for such damage, but the duke had other methods of discipline.

The water smelled of lavender and when she dipped her fingers into it, it was the perfect temperature. Within minutes she was resting back, sighing at the pleasure of having yet another bath.

She found the soap he’d left for her and lathered up, watching the flames soften as she washed. With her fingers between her legs, she found herself replicating the duke’s questing of her entrance last night. Her body had clearly pleased him. He’d said she was tight and intact, that he could feel it.

What is it?

She slipped one finger into the snug channel. It was nice to feel herself there, but it had been nicer to feelhimtouching her there.

It shouldn’t, we’re not even married.

Clenching her jaw, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t allow those thoughts to rise again. She’d battled with her decision to go to The Rose and Thorns and use her body as a means of survival. She’d accepted her lot. There was no point berating herself for that now and apologizing to God. And besides, she hadn’t had full sex, not yet, and the duke couldn’t be further removed from the liver-eyed, portly drunks in the tavern.

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