Page 75 of In Service to the Duke

Under any normal circumstance, I’d enjoy showing her my room along with the hidden treats for those of a more deviant mind such as mine. But the clock is ticking, and we must make haste.

I sink down into the tub first, groaning as the heat washes over my sore limbs. Holding out my hand, I wait for her to step in, but she refrains. A deep frown tilts down my lips.

“We are running on borrowed time,” I bite out. “Now get into the tub or I’ll pull you in. Your choice.”

“But, Your Grace…” she trails off, a plaintive sob in her tone.

“I have seen every inch of you. I have touched and tasted every bit of your body. There is no need to be shy now. Come.”

At that one word, she shivers, as if the core of her remembers everything we did, even if her mind does not. Though I don’t mean it in the way she takes it, it makes my balls clench to see the light pink flushing across her face. Taking a tentative step forward, she slides her hand in mine and allows me to help her into the tub.

CHAPTER 33

EMMA

The water feels scalding against my skin as I sink into the welcoming heat. Everything still feels like a dream. Closing my eyes, I try to piece together everything that’s occurred, but the images are fragments, a haze of a memory.

Try as I might, I can’t seem to put all the disjointed images together to make a whole. But my body remembers. It burns far hotter than the steaming water caressing my skin.

All I want to do is turn into Blackport’s arms and bury my head into his chest as he holds me close. Unfortunately, he feels very closed off. There’s a wall there, a barrier I didn’t expect.

After everything we must have done, how can he treat me so indifferently? Even as he pulls me toward him, so my back lies against his chest, it’s as if I’m lying against a statue. Unbidden, Apollo and Daphne spring to mind, making my body ache and throb.

Did he manage to capture me? With tentative touches, I graze my body, seeking out any sign that he claimed me, but find none. It makes sense, though. Not many walk around with claiming marks visible to the outside world. It’s such an intimate thing.

Still though, I somehow expected to feel differently after my heat. To hear Mother talk about it, it’s a disgusting occurrence to be born with as much grace and dignity as one can muster. Granted, from what little I can recall, there was nothing refined or dignified about what we did.

A flush creeps up my cheeks as my thighs twinge in remembrance. Straddling him, riding him with wild abandon… These are not the actions of a proper governess. Perhaps that’s why Mother was always ashamed when mentioning it.

The only positive she was able to find in the whole ordeal was knowing the union might result in a pregnancy. Dropping my hands to my stomach, I slide them over the flat expanse. Could I even now be with child?

The idea both frightens and warms me from the inside out. I’m not ready for a child. And with me being unmarried, it would make things even worse. Perhaps this is part of the shame she’s referring to.

I despise myself for being so weak. I loathe the fact that I so easily succumbed to his scent and body, allowing him to do such depraved things to me. But most of all, I abhor just how much I want him to do it all over again.

Arching my back, I look up at Blackport, desperate to get his thoughts on the subject, but his eyes are closed as if he’s sleeping again. Only, there’s nothing relaxed about him. His muscles are rigid, as if he’s holding himself back.

But from what? Does he wish to ravage me again? My insistent bundle of nerves pulses at that thought. But still, he never moves. Though I’m not sure how, even being this close to him, I feel so very much alone.

With a heavy sigh, I sink into him, taking what little comfort I can. Pulling my lower lip into my mouth, I mull over everything, trying to figure out the ramifications. If no one else knows what transpired between us, then does that mean all is well?

The last thing I wanted to do was to trap him, and now, it seems as if there is little say in the matter. If I am indeed pregnant… I force myself to stop thinking along those lines. I have to hope and pray nothing comes of this.

I’m not ready to be a mother, especially when I’m so at odds with my own. Though I’d like to think the dowager duchess would welcome a grandchild, she would surely keep the infant and cast me out once she learns of all that’s transpired. How could everything go so wrong?

“Your thoughts seem turbulent, Miss Gillet.”

Miss Gillet… I suppose I only imagined him calling me Emma. Even if it was only just the one time. He sounds so stiff, so formal, and so very unlike the memories eating away at my brain.

“I would like to know what happens next.”

“Next, I wash you down and deliver you to your bedchamber. Once I alert my mother that all is well, a maid will come in and see to your morning routine.”

The way he says it sounds so ordinary, so matter of fact, as if we’re not discussing the ramifications of our actions.

“And after?”

With a heavy sigh, he sits up higher in the tub and pushes me off of him. At first, he doesn’t answer. He grabs a rag and a cake of soap and rubs it over my limbs and into my hair.