Page 9 of In Service to the Duke

Besides, I don’t want her to leave here thinking she really is injured. Spreading her thighs, I gaze down at her sodden pussy. The light brown curls guarding her quim sparkle in the sunlight as it illuminates her arousal.

The scent is even more potent, reminding me of juicy, crisp peaches, just ripe for the plucking on a hot summer day. I want to devour her just as thoroughly as I ate that delectable fruit, allowing her juices to dribble down my chin.

Her gasp is music to my ears as I lean in to scent her, dragging her unique notes in my lungs. I graze my fingers against the delicate skin, groaning at the silken feel of her. Miss Gillet jerks back, her movements confirming that she is indeed more than likely a virgin.

My heart pounds in my chest as my cock pulses, hot and thick behind my breeches. I want to impale her, to take her maidenhead for my own. But it’s insanity. To do that would be to defile her in a way that’s beyond repair.

“Please, Your Grace. Is it very dire?” There’s a tremor of fear in her voice, one that cannot be faked.

Seems Miss Gillet really is that naïve, after all. With a smirk, I run my thumbs along her lower lips, spreading her out so I can gaze upon her clit. I don’t dare touch it. I don’t dare show her pleasure only a husband is supposed to provide.

“Does this hurt?” My voice is deep and husky as I slide my fingers up and down, easing so close to that sensitive part of her, but not giving her the satisfaction.

“Yes? No? I cannot tell, Your Grace. The sensations are intense, akin to pain, but without the agony? Tell me, please.” She rises onto her elbows, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Am I soon to leave this world?”

With a soft chuckle, I force myself away from her and ease down her skirts. “Everything is as it should be. I would not be alarmed. I suggest you start your day before some other mischief befalls you.”

Her cheeks pinken as she gives me a frantic nod and bow. With hurried steps, she flees from my study, giving me the chance to breathe for the first time since I’ve been home. Sinking down into a nearby chair, I groan as her maddening scent envelops me.

So close to losing my resolve and burying myself in her. That’s how it happens. That’s how women of her station entrap men. But not me. Never me. I cannot allow this to happen.

Snarling, I grab the handkerchief from off of my desk and wipe away the arousal glistening on my fingers. The desperation in which I want to taste them, to see if she’s as delicious as she smells, tells me I’m already in trouble. I toss the scrap of fabric down and storm out, ignoring the shuffling of servants as they flee from my path.

Breakfast will be soon, but Mother will not be there. Not unless some miracle happened, and she became well in the course of a fortnight. Turning down the hall, I make my way to her door, rapping softly before easing it open.

The sight of her small and slight in the massive bed tears at my heart. She’s so frail, so helpless, nothing like the strong, formidable woman who raised me. Making my way to her side, I choke back angry sobs as she gives me a weak smile.

“My son,” she cries out, reaching for me. “You have returned! You must tell me everything. Is William happy? How is Catherine?”

For the next little bit, I regale her of everything, keeping my tone as light as I can manage. However, once there are no more questions, I slide into a far more important topic of conversation.

“Mother, your finishing governess must go.”

She pauses, bringing down her cup containing warm chocolate. “Is there something wrong with her?”

My mind flashes back to the vision of her quim, the utter perfection of her arousal. Physically, no. But for my mental sanity, everything is wrong.

“Miss Gillet is not a good fit for this household.”

Keeping her tone light and neutral, she takes another sip. “Has the butler come to you with some massive failing?”

Irritation rolls down my spine. I did not intend to battle with my ailing mother today. “Not that he has revealed. But she’s too flighty, too in her own head. Why, I almost ran her down with Hunter as I approached the stables.”

“The poor thing,” she gasps, setting the cup in her lap. “Is she all right?”

“As best as I can ascertain. I do not believe she needs a doctor.”

With a sigh, she rests her hand over her heart. “That is a relief. She’s been such a dear girl. I would hate to have harm befall her.”

I grit my teeth. “Mother,” I try again. “Dear girl or not, she must quit this house.”

“And whom do you suggest take her place? We are in the country, dear boy. Unless you’d rather pick from the girls in town.” The suggestion makes me bristle. “Besides,” she continues, reaching over to pat my arm. “The girls like her. And that is important.”

“More important than a proper education?” I snipe back, barely holding my thinly leashed emotions in check.

If she notices, she says nothing. “She was highly recommended. Come, you’ve barely been home, not nearly long enough for an impression to be made.”

“First impressions are always the hardest to overcome.”