Page 8 of Disciplined by the Duke
Marcus frowned. That was a bad habit he should break her of. Broken skin as a maid could lead to too many illnesses to let pass.
If she were his to play with. Which she wasn’t. And that was a pity, for she fascinated him. Dangerous currents ran beneath her calm façade. Currents he’d love to explore.
Because he was also trained to peel away a woman’s control. To give her just enough pain and pleasure to make her drop her defenses. To crash through the walls a woman could build.
Miss Smith’s true self was buried beneath layers of training and societal expectations. It could take months of excruciating pleasure before he fully revealed the complete woman.
But she was his maid. He couldn’t take her as he wanted.
That didn’t stop him from fantasizing.
Of stripping her bare of her drab uniform. Using that white apron’s long strings to tie her hands behind her back. Bending her over the back of the settee in the library.
Making her beg. Making her scream.
Until she lost control. Only for him.
Marcus clenched his fingers on the statue. Unlike Hades, his fingers couldn’t dig into Persephone’s flesh. She was impervious to his will. Something beautiful to look upon, but not his to touch.
As good a reminder as any to ignore his little maid.
* * *
Every muscle in Liz’s body ached. Her knees so sore from kneeling that she didn’t know if she could stand. She and Molly had been cleaning since they broke their fast at six that morning, and if she never held another rag in her life it would be too soon. Needing to get off the floor and out of the house more than she needed her next breath, Liz crawled to Molly’s bucket. Using its rim as a base, she pushed herself up onto shaking legs, pulling the bucket up after her.
“I’ll go down and dump this muck. Get us some fresh water instead.” Of course she wouldn’t dream of taking the bucket out the front doors. As Mr. Todd had so vehemently pointed out earlier that morning, a great house like Hartsworth couldn’t possibly allow a mere servant to use the front entrance for something as tawdry as emptying a bucket. Even though Liz had been cleaning the floor of the front entrance, and finding a suitable side door had added several hundred feet to her trip. While lugging a full bucket of water.
Molly placed a hand on her lower back and rubbed. “Good idea. I think I’ll pause for a cuppa in the kitchen before we move on to the next room.”
Relief at the break swept through Liz. If she didn’t hang for theft, cleaning the floorboards of Hartsworth might do her in. She took the bucket out a side door and dumped the murky water into a hedge. Her body felt stiff all over, and Liz stretched and took a couple stumbling steps along the garden path. She needed a short walk. Delicious as a cup of hot tea sounded, if she sat down now she wouldn’t be getting back up.
A breeze caught a loose curl and brushed it against her cheek. Tilting her head up, she let the sun soak into her face before continuing on her way. The path led her to the edge of the east garden and the wide-open lawns beyond.
Enthusiastic yips broke the quiet of the day. To her left, Liz saw a figure squatting on the grass, three puppies gamboling around him. The duke shook his head once and stood. Raising his left hand, he extended his fingers and held his hand out, palm down. One of the pups sank back on his haunches; another lay down, rolling onto his back. The third pounced at the duke, his small jaw attempting, and failing, to encircle the toe of Montague’s boot, ferociously adorable growls coming from the pup’s tiny body.
Liz didn’t think she’d laughed, but she must have made some sound. The duke whipped his head around. His jaw hardened.
She dropped a hasty curtsy. “I apologize for intruding, Your Grace.” Turning, she took a step back towards the house.
“One moment, Miss Smith.”
Liz took a deep breath, and pivoted to face the duke. Loosely clasping her hands together in front of her, she inclined her head. “Yes, Your Grace?”
Montague stood in his shirtsleeves, his coat lying on a bench a couple feet away from him, folded neatly. The black of his trousers, boots, and waistcoat was relieved only by the snowy white shirt he wore. He was a study of black and white in front of a brilliant blue sky. No cravat encircled his neck. The collar of his shirt was loosely tied, a vee of bronzed skin and golden hair peeking out.
Liz forced her gaze up from his chest to his eyes.
“I’m training hunting dogs and require a second body,” he said. “You arrived at a most auspicious moment.”
The puppy chewing on the duke’s boot left his meal to tackle another dog. Her lips remained flat, even though she wanted to squeal with joy. Playing with puppies instead of scrubbing more floors? Yes, please.
And best of all, no one, not Molly or Mr. Todd, could complain of her inattention to her duties. The duke himself had requested her help.
“Of course, Your Grace.” She took a step forward. A year ago she would have dropped to her knees on the grass and joined in the puppies’ fun. “I don’t know anything about training dogs, but any assistance I can give is yours.”
“Your presence is all that is required.” He picked up two of the puppies and gave them to her, one in each arm. “I know enough about training for the both of us.”
The two dogs wriggled, and she shifted her grip. “Your Grace?”