Page 16 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

But this isn’t Rose and Thorne. She’s not one of the practiced women putting on an act meant to arouse. Her unease sours the air, driving away the delicious scent of her arousal. All around me, the horses grow restless, the soft nickering drowning out the beating of her heart.

“Seems you cannot keep those beautiful lips shut, can you Miss Cynthia?”

She shies away from me, her hand trembling as she lays it over her heart. “I haven’t breathed a word to anyone. J- Just a horse. A horse that cannot repeat a single thing I say.”

“Yes,” I breathe, slowly, inexorably filling the gap between us. “But you never know who may lurk in the shadows, waiting to take your bit of gossip and run with it. Why, if I were one of the grooms, what would you have done then?”

She stills, as realization seems to dawn on her. “I- I. You must forgive me, Your Grace.”

“I’ve already forgiven you once tonight, Miss Cynthia, and I have still yet to receive recompense. Suppose I help you quell your wayward tongue with a taste of my leather?” I pause as the words tumble from my lips.

Am I mad? Surely only a daft man would make such a proposition when his grasp on civility is so tenuous. Where are we to go from here? Can I truly stop at disciplining her and not go all the way?

“You vex me, Miss Cynthia,” I murmur, reaching out to grab her arm. “You are a maddening distraction, a vice I cannot seem to quit.”

“Then don’t,” she whimpers back, her eyes shining. “I’ll do what you wish. I’ll obey your every command. Just please.” At my silence, she blinks up at me before looking around helplessly. “I’ll practice some more. I’ll teach myself how to give you what that maid did.”

Her words click about in my mind. “Practice what, exactly.”

For a moment, it seems as if she won't answer me. Her cheeks flush a bright pink as she looks down. “I- I touched myself. Just like she did. I hoped to someday surprise you to-”

“Show me,” I growl, unable to formulate a full sentence.

“Your Grace?”

“There is no way you understand what you’re saying. I demand for you to show me what you think it is that I want from you.”

Soft whimpers spill from her lips as she pulls herself out of my grasp. “Here, Your Grace?”

I glance about, tipping my nose in the air. This is dangerous. At any point, either of us can get caught in this game, and yet, the rational part of me is slowly slipping, driven away by the maddening scent between her thighs.

“No one will dare approach. Now, I will not ask you again. Either show me, or suffer the consequences of disobedience.”

Chapter 11

Cynthia

Do I dare? If our foray in the library didn’t ruin me, surely this will. How many times can we tempt fate? Unsure of what to do, I glance back over at the stable entrance, my brain desperately trying to come up with a solution.

“Fine,” he grinds out, the gravelly sound of his voice washing over me until I start to throb once more.

I thought satisfying myself in the tub would be enough, but I’m wrong. So very very wrong. With just the sound of his displeasure, my body aches and burns, desperate for more illicit touches.

Before I can say anything or even protest, he grabs my arm once more and drags me into an empty stall. I open my mouth to cry out, but his lips are there, crushing into mine, silencing everything until all I can do is whimper under the onslaught.

“What spell do you weave around me,” he rasps against my neck, his teeth grazing the delicate column. “Are you a witch in disguise, set to lay me low with your innocent seduction?”

His words are meaningless as I writhe under his rough touch. I want more. So much more. If only I knew what it was my body craved. But I don’t. I can’t. To do so would mean that I’m ruined.

Sorrow lances through me as he pulls back, staring down at me as his hand reaches to the side of the stall. “You owe me a punishment, do you not?”

My mind freezes for a moment, taking an eternity to go back to where I once begged him to discipline me, that way things can be well between us. Is this the same thing he’s offering? Or is there something else hidden behind his demand?

“If that is what you wish -”

“I don’t give a horse’s bollocks what I wish,” he growls out, his words hard steel wrapped in the softest velvet. “What is it you wish, little flower? What do you crave, you maddening vixen who smells of peony and desire? What do you wish of me?”

“Please,” I whimper out. “Please punish me. Make all of this stop. I cannot bear it any longer.”