Page 27 of In Service to the Duke

They’re heavy and unwilling to cooperate. Again, darkness swamps me, lulling me to sink beneath the waves. I float on some strange cloud, drifting about as if being carried. Yet another novel sensation.

Beneath the fog of sleep, an odd vibration ripples over my skin. It calls to me, demanding my body become limp and boneless under the onslaught. As if I care enough to fight the pull.

“Good girl,” the whispers cajole into my ear as heat gives way to blessed coolness.

CHAPTER 12

ROBERT

Breakfast comes far too early, and I find myself sandwiched between my sisters as they talk back and forth of things so inconsequential, I pay it little mind. Instead, I’m transfixed by the governess sitting in front of me, a permanent blush etched on her cheeks. She squirms about every few moments, but that could easily be discomfort from the punishment I gave her yesterday.

So far, she’s given no hint that she has any memories of what I did to her last night as she slept, the drug keeping her under as I tasted her delicious quim. Although, the way she looks away every time our gazes meet makes me wonder. But there’s no way she knows anything.

I am intimately aware of the effects of laudanum. Anything she might think she knows or remembers will be nothing more than a dream in the light of day. I watched her eyes as they fluttered open and closed. There was no hint of awareness in those brown depths of hers.

And yet… the way she looks at me, those coquettish blushes, and that soft grin makes me wonder what goes on inside that head of hers. Does she relive her ‘dream’ in her mind as she casts me in the lead role? Is it some other gentleman who might have courted her while she was in London?

Jealousy rears its ugly head as I lean back in my chair, studying her face as yet another swath of pink engulfs it. It better not be some other cad she thinks about as arousal slickens her thighs. But then, it’s not as if she’s allowed to think of me in that way either. With a heavy sigh, I go back to my breakfast, determined to put all thoughts of her delectable body out of my mind.

But all too soon, she drags her fingers across her wrists, drawing my attention to her delicate limbs. Even now, the rope marks are long faded, but they’re burned into my mind and seared into my soul. Did she see them as she awakened? Or were they already gone by the time the sun peeked over the trees? If only I were there the moment her eyes opened. Then, I’d know exactly what thoughts lay shuttered behind her gaze.

Smearing a dollop of peach jam over my bread, I bring it to my nose and inhale. Not quite her scent, but close enough that my mouth waters in anticipation.

With her eyes firmly fixed on her plate so she doesn’t see the illicit things I do to this bit of sugary goodness, I slide my tongue over the delicious glaze, nearly moaning in delight. Before her, peaches never tasted so good. And I half expect to remain wanting even after devouring it all.

If only our stations were different. If only she weren’t a governess set to assist my sisters in achieving womanhood in a proper fashion. If only she weren’t of the working class with nowhere to go but up the ranks until they find a suitable husband.

It’s not fair of me to put her in the same light as Delilah, and yet, the arousal I feel for Miss Gillet is far stronger, enough to give me pause. As much as I craved the former’s soft sighs and pretend coquettishness, I find myself nearly ravenous when around the latter. I crave her in a way that’s frightening, all-encompassing, and nearly enough to make me forget the one promise I made to myself—I will never be laid low by a working maid ever again.

But with Miss Gillet, I nearly forget that, putting myself in harm's way. Even now, I plan on how I’ll get her back into my dungeon with no one being any wiser to the deviant acts I force upon her unconscious body. It’s a sickness with only one cure. I must have her again.

My cock aches and throbs as I contemplate my options. I’ve never purposefully drugged someone before and have no way of knowing how to go about it. But I do know one thing with absolute clarity. If I have to kidnap her and keep her down in my dungeon until I know what to do with myself, then that’s what I’ll do.

“Kidnapping is not an acceptable conversation to have at the breakfast table,” Miss Gillet chides, her lips in a stern slash as she brings her drink up to her mouth. “Honestly, it’s not really acceptable anywhere.”

My heart stops in my chest as I watch her, wondering how in the devil she heard my thoughts. There was no way I said them out loud for the world to hear. Did I?

And that’s when Margaret sighs beside me, her body drifting down as she cradles her head in her hand. Her eyes have a far-off look, as if she’s daydreaming about the notion. “But wouldn’t it be so romantic?”

“No,” Miss Gillet and I cry out at the same time.

Unfortunately, it’s for two vastly different reasons. Groaning, I too slide my head into my hands, but not with the same besotted ennui my sister seems to possess. “How is this notion even in that skull of yours?”

She narrows her eyes at me before brandishing the knife to smear her jam with. “Were you not paying a bit of attention, Brother?”

“Now, now,” Miss Gillet murmurs. “One does not antagonize their siblings at the table, either. Especially when he is the duke.”

“I can fight my own battles,” I growl, rolling my shoulders back.

I don’t need this slip of an omega swooping in as if she’s saving the day. Especially not when she cannot even seem to control my sister at the onset.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” she retorts, her words speaking of respect, though her tone leaves much to be desired. “I was under the impression it is my occupation to educate your sisters. Am I to believe this job has now passed to you? Shall you be both duke and governess?”

The moment the words are out of her mouth, she bites down on her bottom lips as if regretting them. But it’s far too late for that now. Setting my cutlery down, I lean forward, steepling my fingers. She has the good sense to look uneasy under the onslaught of my glare.

“Your duty also includes showing me respect. How are my sisters to learn if you constantly run your mouth in a way which teaches them differently?”

As if to make my point for me, Margaret snorts. “Honestly, Robert, I would speak to you this way regardless of governesses.”