Page 6 of In Service to the Duke

ROBERT

Madness. It sizzles through my brain, lighting it on fire. Before me, the young governess blinks up, the innocence shining in her eyes like that of a foal. It should drive me away, and yet, I find I am transfixed. This is the woman I vowed to displace upon my arrival, and yet, I cannot find it within myself to quit her just yet.

She glues me to the spot as her hands hover around her mound, so unsure of what ails her. But I know. I can smell the arousal dripping from her body as my harsh words pepper the air.

With each verbal blow, she flinches, but her body responds in a way that’s tantalizing, decadent, and wholly forbidden. I should leave this room. I should cast her out onto the streets and let the devil have her. Unfortunately, I’m the devil who craves the delectable scent wafting from her body.

I cannot understand my reactions. Just her memory made me rage with the need to get her away from me and my family. As she stands here, it’s as if I cannot find it in me to do more than drink her in. What spell does this temptress weave around me to make me cast propriety to the side as if it has no meaning?

If I have an issue with her, I should allow the butler to handle it, but the very idea of him punishing her has my body clenching in anger. I’m the one who almost caused her death. I should be the one who makes her understand the consequences of not paying attention.

My mouth waters as I lean in close, picking up on the delicate notes of peach, black currant, and just a hint of the laundry hanging outside to dry. She would make the most delightful dessert, bursting on my tongue as I lap up her cream, as silky and smooth as anything Cook can conjure up. Closing my eyes, I drink her in, allowing my brain to run away with me.

Just for a moment.

When I open them again, Miss Gillet stands there, caught betwixt the desire to flee and stay where she is. I can see it in the rigid lines of her body, the way her eyes dart toward the door, and the way that hint of unease drifts from her like languid smoke curling up from dying embers. It’s that unease that calls to me far more than the arousal.

Motes of dust drift about, enveloping us in this sensual cocoon. But only for a moment. Soon, her face distorts before me, conjuring up another I’d rather forget. Delilah, one of the maids who used to work here before, swims into view, replacing soft brown eyes with dark black ones, cold and calculating as she slides her fingers along my swollen shaft.

How many stolen moments did we spend here, engaging in debauchery under the guise of punishment? She was such an imp, an agent of chaos, as she flitted about the manor, looking for ways to entice me. Shaking my head, I do my best to dispel the image, but it holds on, digging into my soul with talons which feel forever embedded.

I never claimed her. Thankfully, my eyes were open to her devious ways before that happened. But I still feel her emblazoned upon my heart, a wraith which haunts me at every turn in this damnable estate.

While in London, I can shove her out of my mind. Unfortunately, the moment I return, I’m forced to confront the betrayal. Thankfully, the governess before me seems to be a viable target for my ire, a distraction most needed.

Blinking down at Miss Gillet, her delicate features swim into view. She’s nothing like Delilah, a far cry from the viper slithering through my grass. It doesn’t mean she’s innocent, though. No one can truly be that naïve unless they’re of higher breeding such as my sisters and those of the peerage.

As a common lady, though moral enough to get a position as finishing governess, she should at least know what it is between her legs which ails her. She may pretend to be coy, to want me to ‘teach her’ the ways of her body, but I am not in the occupation of being her tutor. Still though… Just one glance, one heady whiff cannot be all that bad.

If I can contain myself, I can enjoy this game she puts forth without being singed like last time. Shoring up my defenses, I rise, bringing forth to mind the danger in which she put herself. Farce or no, she was reckless, careless, and no one on my estate will behave as such.

Gripping my crop in my hand, I motion for her to turn around, my cock pulsing at the uncertainty in her gaze. Again, that doe-eyed expression as she blinks at me stirs my blood and drives me to defile her right there on my desk. She hesitates, but I remain undeterred.

“Your Grace,” she hedges, her eyes once more flicking up toward the door. “I don’t understand-”

“Allow me to clarify. You put yourself in harm’s way. My horse could have crushed you if I hadn’t paid as close attention as I normally do. Carelessness is not tolerated in my household. This is merely one tool in my arsenal to ensure compliance. Now turn before I decide to strip you bare and lay my stripes upon your bottom with nary a thing in between to soften the blow.”

I study her reaction to my words, noting a hint of curiosity dancing in the depths of her eyes. The way she trembles in contrast, however, sends more blood surging into my cock, engorging it in the most painful manner. Though I long to remove it from the confines of my buckskin breeches and have her tend to it, that way lies further madness.

“Is that what you want?” I inquire, stepping even closer. This time, she doesn’t flinch. “You want me to strip you naked beneath my gaze? To look upon your bare flesh?”

The scent of her arousal dances around my head, lacing every breath with the intoxicating aroma. Moments of silence beat between us as we stand there, locked together in this stalemate. After another second or so, she dips her head down.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. It was not my intention to cause you distress by my actions. I understand that I am to be punished. But please, do not take it upon yourself to do such a menial task. I will go inquire after the butler and take his punishment with the grace belonging to someone of my station.”

As she turns to ease around me, leaving me alone with my lusts, I snake out my hand and grab her arm, jerking her back to me. “I am the one who decides how you will be punished. I do not consider this task menial. In fact, I will enjoy teaching you the error of your ways.”

What in the blazes am I doing? I chide myself as I lead her back over to the desk. She gave me a perfectly reasonable way to let her leave me. I’m playing with fire, and soon, both of us will get burned.

Unfortunately, I cannot resist the siren call of her delectable backside. How I wish I could mar her bare flesh with my crop… But to give in would be to allow myself to descend to the depth of madness.

Nothing good happens there. I’ve been burned by my ardor before, and now this waif of an omega threatens to do it again. I will punish her, see to her supposed wounds, and then cast her from my sight. It’s the only way to rid myself of these errant thoughts concerning her anatomy.

That’s all. It’s a mere curiosity. I wish to see her reactions, to see if I can scare her enough to keep her far from me. It’s a damned lie, but I tell it to myself all the same. There’s a pull here a draw between us I cannot understand.

Reaching out, I flip up her skirts, revealing the thin, cotton shift beneath. I stifle a groan as I study the curve of her backside as it drapes over her, letting my mind reel and my imagination run wild. My cock surges forward as she quivers in front of me.

At first, Miss Gillet struggles, jerking forward as if to get away. When that doesn’t work, she reaches back, a cry of embarrassment on her lips. It would be adorable if the situation was not so dire.