Disciplined by the Duke Read online

  So he’d been watching her, too.

  Brooks ran back out, his face flushed.

  “Well?” Montague demanded.

  “There’s a stack of grain bags up there. You know we store the feed on the second level.” He waited for the duke’s nod before continuing. “They must have been leaning against the urn. Sent it toppling.”

  Montague’s body was rigid. The tension rolling off of him palpable. “Check the rest of the bags. See that this doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Tugging on a forelock, Brooks directed the grooms to check all the grain bags.

  Her head cleared, and Liz noticed that Mr. Pike was not among the assembled grooms. Her scalp prickled.

  Rolling to a squat, Montague placed a hand at Liz’s elbow. “Can you stand?”

  She nodded. Molly came to her other side, and Liz slowly rose to shaky feet. Next to the urn, a large divot was taken out of the lawn. An uncontrolled shudder coursed through her body. “That would have taken off my head.”

  Her eyes were glued to the dent in the earth. She had been inches away from death. The thought terrified and fascinated her in equal measure. But who would care for Amanda if she died?

  Montague turned her until she could no longer see the urn. Turned her so she faced the grandeur of Hartsworth. “Can you walk to your room, or shall I carry you?”

  Molly squeezed her arm. Her chamber-mate would be only too eager for a ride in a handsome man’s arms.

  Liz straightened her back. “I can walk.” Molly snorted with disgust, but Liz ignored her. Remembering the similar statement she’d made the night before, but under much different circumstances, Liz battled against the heat creeping up her chest and neck.

  Flustered, Liz continued. “We were cleaning the windows, and Molly and I should return to our duties. I’m really quite all right.”

  “You will go to your room and rest for the remainder of the day.” Montague slid his palm from her elbow to her biceps, a touch so light it almost tickled. “If the doctor tells me you’re unharmed you may continue working tomorrow.” He stepped back, still within arms’ reach, but far enough where she was no longer warmed from his body’s heat. “Now, show me how well you walk.”

  He paced her and Molly to the house, seemingly satisfied she wouldn’t topple over. With a curt nod and well wishes on her health, Montague turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her and Molly to navigate the stairs to their room.

  Free from her employer’s presence, Molly started chattering like a dam had burst. “Cor, when we all raced out and saw the duke lying on top of you, we didn’t know what had happened. It was so shocking, so improper looking. Mind you, once we saw that that great pot had fallen, the tittering stopped right quick. Why, you could have been killed!”

  “I know,” Liz murmured. Had that been the point? Had Pike tried to follow through on his threat, or had it been an accident? Reaching the top of the staircase, she swayed. It was such an odd feeling to think that someone might wish her harm. Might actually put action to what she’d thought had only been nasty words. Her stomach churned.

  “Whoa, steady there,” Molly said. With a firmer grip, she led Liz to their room. “The doctor will be here soon and you’ll be right as rain. No more getting out of window-cleaning duty for you.”

  Liz gave her a wan smile. “Thanks, Molly.” As Liz eased onto the bed, only the smallest twinge in her ribs pained her. Unfortunately, she would be ready to clean windows tomorrow. And able to make yet another search for the letter. She’d looked in every room Montague could possibly keep correspondence, even managing to sneak into his bedchambers after the maids who cleaned it had left. Nothing. She could only think that it hadn’t yet arrived in the post.

  Molly left and Liz rested until she heard a knock on her door. Mr. Todd entered, a tall, gaunt man behind him. She gave the man the barest of glances, her attention all on the wriggling bundle of fur under Mr. Todd’s arm.

  “Reggie!”

  The puppy yipped, and Mr. Todd thrust him at Liz before he lost his grip entirely. “His Grace said you were fond of this animal and that you might enjoy an afternoon of its company. Molly can bring it down later for its supper.”

  Liz cuddled the pup close. His racing heartbeat fluttered against her chest, the staccato a soothing beat. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Todd twisted his lips. “I can assure you it wasn’t my idea. I don’t hold with animals in living quarters. They belong outside. But my opinion wasn’t taken into account on this matter.”

  Reggie nudged Mr. Todd’s leg with his nose, and the man reached out a tentative finger, touched the pup’s silky ear, before snatching his hand back.

  He sniffed. “Miss Smith, this is Doctor Wharton. I’ll leave him to it.”

  The doctor smiled, the effect rather ghastly with his hollowed cheeks and disappearing lips. But the man was all amiability. He spoke with her for a while, prodded her ribs and examined her eyes before declaring her unbroken. “Enjoy your afternoon of rest. If you develop any pains send for me again, but you should mend quite well.”

  The door clicked shut behind him. The afternoon light slanted through the small window, and the day’s heat had settled in her small room. Drowsy, she lay back, curling her body around Reggie. Tired of chewing on her cuff, Reggie flopped down for a nap, as well.

  Her body was exhausted, but her mind didn’t want to settle. It jumped like a hare from one thought to the next. Just when sleep would coil around her head, her thoughts would focus on her near miss. On the safety she’d felt wrapped up in the duke’s arms. On the way he’d made her explode the night before.

  On her sister alone in a dark cell.

  As she drifted off, her mind lingered on Mr. Pike. Where had he been if he wasn’t in the stable?

  And did he hate her enough to try to kill her?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Liz hurried through the kitchen, ignoring the other maids eating their nuncheon, and pushed out the back door, into the sunlight. Her stomach growled a protest, but she’d seen Montague heading for the west gardens and he was more of an inducement than food. She’d been feeling restless for days. Brittle. As though she might shatter if she didn’t get to touch the duke one more time. Her noonday break was one of her few moments of leisure time during the day, and she wasn’t going to waste it in eating.

  She’d searched every likely room for that damned letter. She had to face facts. She might never find it. Either way, she would be leaving Hartsworth soon, never to see the duke again. Ever since the night in his study, she’d been unable to keep her mind off the man. And after yesterday’s events, the feel of his body covering hers, pressing her into the soft grass, she’d been twitching with need.

  There was something about almost losing one’s head to make a woman yearn for fulfillment.

  She thought again of his hands.

  Those devilish hands that had touched her so intimately. She’d seen enough in her time living alone in London to know the basics of human mating. Had even overheard some women who proclaimed to enjoy their husbands’ attentions.

  But knowing that a man could bring pleasure to a woman and actually feeling pleasure from a man were two feathers from altogether different birds. Her body hadn’t stopped humming since her encounter with the duke. And she wanted more.

  Needed more.

  While she could never term what she and Montague had done innocent, there could be no consequences from merely laying hands on each other. No child could come of it. No ruination.

  And as far as society was concerned, that ship had already sailed. No amount of purity on her part would ever redeem her family’s disgrace.

  So why not take pleasure where she could?

  Her boots crunched on the gravel path, and she turned around a hedge, and stopped dead. Montague wasn’t alone. Lord Spencer and Lady Arabelle had joined him for a stroll around the garden. She stood rooted to the spot, knowing she should turn around before his guests saw her but longi
ng to keep him in view.

  She edged closer. Her heart fluttered so rapidly she was surprised it didn’t fly out her throat.

  He stood inches taller than the other man. The set of his shoulders was stiff, as though even having a conversation with friends in the garden required determination. Turning his head to speak to Lady Arabelle, Montague showed Liz his profile. The plane of his nose was straight, and the ends of his golden hair brushed his collar.

  Liz rested a palm over her stomach, and bit back a sigh. He was one fine specimen of man.

  He cocked his head, his jaw jutting towards her slightly, and Liz knew he’d seen her. She took a slow step back. She couldn’t outright confront him; she wasn’t that bold. But she hoped her appearance would tell him what she couldn’t say.

  That she wanted a repeat of that night.

  Turning on her heel, she strolled away. If her hips swayed a bit more than was proper for a chambermaid the duke only had himself to blame.

  He followed.

  She felt him before she heard him. Age-old instincts brought an awareness to her skin. Raised the hair on the back of her neck. Her movements were being tracked. Smiling, she turned down a path that wound away from the house. It led to a heavily wooded glen, a rare secluded spot on the duke’s open expanse of land.

  The dogwood trees were in bloom, and thick pink blossoms littered the trail, a carpet that muffled footsteps. Stopping, she brought a low-hanging bough to her face, inhaled the sweet scent of the flower.

  His hot breath slid across the back of her neck. Tingles of anticipation feathered up and down her spine.

  “Does something amuse you, Miss Smith?” His deep baritone hit her low in the belly.

  She wiped the smile from her face. “No, Your Grace.”

  Reaching over her shoulder, he plucked the flower from the branch. “Perhaps you find it diverting that one look from you can send me to heel? Like a pup to its master?”

  At that image, she lost the battle with her lips. “If you were a pup I imagine you’d be more of the Reggie variety. You don’t seem to be one to follow orders.”

  His breath hitched. “Yet here I am.”

  She turned at the confusion in his voice, but his face showed nothing. It was only her wishful thinking that he would be as affected by her as she was by him.

  “How do you fare?” He examined her from head to toe, as though he could see through her clothes to the faint bruises below. “Have you recovered from your scare yesterday?”

  “As I said, I was uninjured.”

  He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “If you need more time off—”

  “No, I’m perfectly capable of resuming my duties.” Capable, but not eager. Not until she’d found the release she sought. Then she’d return to cleaning. And spying. “We aren’t out here to discuss yesterday’s accident.”

  He lifted one golden eyebrow. “And why am I here, Miss Smith? What was it you wanted?”

  Liz narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. But that shouldn’t surprise her. He wasn’t an easy man.

  “Why do you think I wanted anything?” Stepping away, she turned and meandered farther into the glen. “Your Grace is kind enough to allow his servants small breaks. I wanted to take a walk for mine.”

  His shoulder brushing hers, he said, “I hope you don’t try to convince yourself of that nonsense. Lying to others may be immoral, but lying to oneself is unforgivable.”

  She walked on, silent. The man didn’t appreciate coyness; that was apparent. Which suited her, since she had neither the skill nor inclination to act the coquette. But she also didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted.

  She clenched her fist. She didn’t know quite what she wanted. In his study, he had been two men. One hard, demanding. He’d taken control, taken her in hand, and her bottom tingled as she thought about that man. The other had been just as demanding. Demanding her pleasure, her release, but he’d been gentle, considerate.

  Well, at least as gentle as Montague was capable of being. Both the firm hand and the sweet caresses had delivered pleasure. One had sent her spiraling down, deep into herself, to a place that had been almost frightening in its intensity. The other had raised her up, made her so light her body could almost float away. That had been the safer pleasure. The safer man. That was what she should ask for.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. He wouldn’t respect indecision. Lifting her chin, she forced her voice steady. She couldn’t control the heat across her cheeks, however. “I wish for a repetition, a partial repetition, of what we did in your study. As I believe I already mentioned, it was very pleasant and I’d like more.”

  His eyes glittered, but he didn’t answer.

  “I also know that while you gave me pleasure, you were left unsatisfied. I was hoping . . .”

  Even her nerve shriveled under the force of his one raised eyebrow.

  “To return the favor?” The amusement in his voice was clear.

  He was laughing at her. Her heart twisted painfully, and she turned to make her escape. She didn’t make it far.

  Grabbing her elbow, he spun her around until she was pressed tight against him. “Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

  “My intent was clear.” She wanted to yank from his grasp, let him know the extent of her anger. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and rub against him like a wanton. She remained still. “It’s you who are hard to read. Does my proposition interest you, or will you laugh and send me on my way?”

  He skimmed his hand from her elbow up her arm and neck, cupping the back of her head with gentle fingers. “I will never laugh at you, Miss Smith. Know that.”

  Liz relaxed marginally. “But?”

  “But you are my maid. I am your employer. What happened was a mistake.”

  “Perhaps.” Because he was there, because she couldn’t help herself, she ran her hand under his cravat, across the hard planes of his chest, rested it over his beating heart. “I’ve made many and will likely make many more. But it is not one that I regret. We may have crossed one of society’s lines, but we didn’t cross one of mine.”

  He smiled at that, and Liz’s breath clogged in her throat. The edges of his eyes crinkled, and for a moment the duke looked unburdened. Carefree.

  Happy.

  “I’m also not a stickler for society’s rules.” Bringing the blossom up to her face, he stroked it down her nose, across her chin. “But I live by my own set of rules. And those include not abusing my authority with those under it. A man in my position should not dally with his maid. You are not in a position to refuse me.”

  “You give me too little credit.” Taking the flower from his hand, she rubbed the velvety petals between her fingers before tossing it away. “You have made it clear I will not lose my position regardless. And besides, we are only speaking of touches. Not . . .”

  “Fucking? You think so long as I don’t tup the maid my behavior is proper?”

  He meant to shock her with his language. Intended for her to turn tail and run. And she should. She knew she should. With all the other games she was playing, this one seemed the most dangerous. And the most delicious.

  She stepped into him, her skirts brushing the tops of his boots. Slowly, giving him time to stop her if he wanted, she placed her hands on his chest. It rippled beneath her palms.

  “Proper no longer has a place in my life,” she said, tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes. She ran her hands up under his cravat, her fingers tangling with the knot. “It’s pleasure I seek.” The kind of pleasure that let her forget. And forgetting, even if for but a few stolen moments, had become something precious.

  He waited until she’d untied the silk at his throat, waited until she’d slid one end of the cravat around his neck. The silk whispered against the finely knit wool of his coat. Watching the tail end of the white silk trail over his shoulder, she didn’t see his hands moving until hers were firmly manacled within his grasp.
r />   Transferring her wrists so he held both of them in one of his large hands, he spun her around and pulled her back against him. His breath was hot on the back of her neck. “Pleasure is the one thing I can give you.” He wound the length of silk around her wrists, tied the ends together so her hands were bound together in front of her.

  He stepped back, keeping her tight to him. He leaned against a boulder that jutted out from the hillside. “Is this what you came for, Miss Smith? To put yourself in my hands? To cede responsibility of your actions while I take what I want, what we both want?”

  “Yes.” Liz heard the surprise in her voice, and her cheeks flooded with heat. She didn’t want to be responsible anymore, not for her sister’s life, not for her own actions. She was tired and constantly sick with worry.

  She was letting her sister down. And the shame of that, of her desire to forget her responsibilities, curdled her stomach. She almost stepped away from him. Almost withdrew back to her life of constant fear and heavy duties. But his hands were on the move, sculpting her body as though trying to memorize her curves with his fingers.

  His palms skimmed over her breasts, not nearly enough pressure to bring her relief. Montague rested them on her shoulders a moment, before sweeping down her arms and grabbing her bound wrists. Dragging them up, he laced her wrists behind his neck, exposing her torso fully to his exploring hands.

  Liz sank into his body. Leaning her head back on his shoulder, she allowed him free rein. A sigh escaped her lips as he cupped her breasts, rubbed his thumbs over the tips. Her nipples hardened to stiff peaks. Her breasts became heavy, achy. She moaned a protest when he lowered his hands to slide along her belly.

  “Shh.” His mouth was at her ear, his voice low. “You might be able to come just from breast play, but we don’t have the time to experiment.” His fingers scratched at the tops of her thighs, and it took her a moment to realize he was gathering her skirts, exposing her drawers to the world.

  She glanced around. The path was still secluded. The rustle of the breeze through the trees the only sound she heard. Marcus untied the little knot and pushed his fingers under the waistband of her drawers. The tips of his fingers grazed the slick skin at the junction of her thighs. She started, the sensation of someone’s touch on her intimate flesh still too new.