Page 73 of The Duke's Pet

Jemima thought he was perfect too and she clung to him as she caught her breath and the perspiration lacing her skin cooled. At that moment in time, she couldn’t imagine life without her duke.

After a while he stopped peppering kisses over her cheek and neck. “We should rest on the sofa,” he said, lifting her off his cock.

He stood, tugging her with him, then urged her to lie down on the soft cushions.

After several minutes in his embrace, Jemima sighed. Lying by the fire with her lover was her new favorite thing to do. “I want to stay here like this all day.”

“That would be nice.” He chuckled. “But it is only afternoon. We cannot lie around here, making love all day.”

“And why not?”

He laughed and tipped her onto her side. He swatted her ass. “Heaven help me, I have created a sex-crazed little kitten.”

“I am not.” She frowned at him.

“So get up and prove it. Go get dressed, we’ll go for a walk.” He stared down at her. “Perhaps you should wash too.”

Her torso was a mess of paint. The apples had smeared into long red arcs and the green and brown of the branches and leaves had blended together.

“You too.” She nodded at him. The red from her body had spread over his chest and abdomen.

“We are both messy.” He shook his head and stood, then held out his hand. “Come, let’s clean up, I do wish to show you the grotto we never got to yesterday.”

“And I can wear clothes?”

“Yes, Jemima, you can wear clothes.”

She liked that he was using her name. Was that how it would be now they’d made love, now that he’d taken her virginity? He saw her as a woman and not as his hired pet anymore? She hoped so. She desperately wanted to be more to him than a little creature he could dress up.

* * *

Within the hour theywere both freshly washed and dressed and walking over the lawn.

The duke had his cane with him again, and swung it with each step, dipping the end into the grass.

Jemima decided not to look at it. She also decided to do her utmost to behave. Which was going to be considerably easier now that she was clothed.

With her arm linked with his, she strolled along, pointing out things that interested her—the rabbits, a woodpecker, a crop of buttercups, and several geese.

“You enjoy nature,” he said, steering them to the left of a large lake.

“It’s how I was raised, to be part of it.”

He nodded. “I envy that.”

“Really? With all the splendor of Hillcrest my farm is nothing.”

“I had a stern governess; she didn’t see the value of being outdoors. And my mother, she...”

“What?”

He sighed. “She lost a son, my brother.”

“I’m sorry.” Jemima paused. “What happened?”

“He fell down a steep bank, to the west of the house, near where the river runs and hurt his back and neck. He never really recovered, his limbs didn’t work, the doctors said it was damage to nerves. Over the course of a year he wasted away and died.”

She stopped and tugged his arm. “That’s terrible, I’m so sorry.”

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