Page 34 of Their Master

“You needn’t remove it entirely.” His eyes flickered over the bruises on her arms, shoulders, and one particularly ugly mark at the base of her throat. “Turn around.”

She obeyed, keeping her spine straight and her posture proud. Why shouldn’t she stand tall? Receiving a beating—and surviving such violence—was nothing to be ashamed of, no matter how much it diminished her value. The only person who should feel shame was the vicious villain who’d wielded the whip.

The thin floorboards creaked as Smith came closer and goosebumps formed on her skin as she felt the heat of his body behind hers.

“A crop,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, even though it was not a question.

Warm breath bathed her neck and shoulders and her body tensed in anticipation of his touch.

“The wounds look clean—uninfected. But you are right; the scars will always be visible.”

Moira’s throat was suddenly too thick to speak, his proximity making her skin feel unbearably tight and fragile, as if it would crack when he touched her.

But he didn’t touch her.

Instead, the heat disappeared and she heard his light step recede.

“You may dress yourself.”

Her hands shook on the buttons. How was that for irony? She could strip for a man without any qualms, but putting her dress back on left her flooded with shame? There was something wrong with her.

When she’d fastened the last button, she turned.

He was leaning in the same position, as if he’d never moved. “What are your plans?”

“Plans?” She shrugged. “I don’t have any.”

“I’m willing to offer you a position.”

Moira’s eyebrows lifted. “You want me even after this? Even… scarred?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his steady gaze and unable to believe he wanted her.

And also unwilling to admit how much that thought warmed her.

Here was the chance she’d been waiting for. She should jump on it.

Perhaps he wants you to scrub his floors, not warm his bed?

Moira swallowed down the unhappy thought and looked up. “What sort of position?”

His lips curled up at the corners and the lines around his eyes deepened, which only made him look more attractive.

“I want you to be my lover—to live in my house—and I also want you to bear my child.”

Moira’s mouth opened and Smith laughed at her expression—doubtless one of shock.

“Are you mad?” she demanded.

“Possibly. But I want a child and your time in this business is likely over—as you yourself stated—so it seems an excellent opportunity for both of us.”

“You think I’m so damaged and desperate that I’ll agree to be your broodmare?”

Something flickered in his eyes at her rude tone but his smile didn’t falter. “If you do not want to be my lover and bear my child then I can help you secure more traditional employment.”

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