Page 37 of His Dark Pact
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THE SILENCE AT THEtable was deafening. She’d taken her seat immediately after his say-so, horrified at both the fact she’d needed to ask permission and the way her body had responded to the call to submit. Heat had grown between her thighs, making it impossible for her to sit still, and her nipples grazed the thin back lace covering them, as though the buds longed for his attention.
No. She pressed her palms against the table, trying to distract herself.I don’t.
I can’t...
It was one thing to lust after the man bailing her out of the deep pit she’d fallen into, but quite another to dress as his maid, serve him dinner, and still yearn for him.
He’d said he liked how easily her complexion blushed, but as she nibbled at a piece of pigeon, he made no comment of her obviously coloring cheeks.
“Very good.” He placed down his cutlery and pushed his empty plate away as if he expected her to leap up and clear the table. Hell, based on her current situation, perhaps he did. “You haven’t eaten much.”
“No, I’m...” She reached for her water, resentful that she hadn’t been offered any of the wine he seemed to be quaffing. “I’m not that hungry.” The recent dose of humiliation had stripped her of most of her appetite and honestly, she had found the game too rich for her tastes.
Kyle frowned. “I don’t like wasting food in this house, Amy.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Shame bubbled amidst her confused indignation. He was chastising her—again—and even though she was loath to admit it, the telling off commanded hot arousal to flood her pussy.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was inclined to agree with him. Used to eating whatever was available, her lack of money had ensured not being wasteful was a rule she still lived by. Remorse flickered in her as she spoke.
“I’m not used to eating pigeon.”
“There’s a lot of game in this house.” His tone was unapologetic. “If you stay, you’ll need to acquire an appetite for it.”
“Okay.” She glanced at her lap, unable to process the myriad of competing emotions assailing her.
Kyle had the power to intensify every situation. Whether it was the way he talked to her or the way she reacted to his approach, she’d felt constantly out of her depth in his presence.
“Clear the plates, please.” He blew out a breath as though the conversation was exhausting. “Chef should have the second course soon.”
“Should I leave them in the vestibule, sir?” She was on her feet, piling the plates for her to carry.
Even as she worked, she knew it was wrong for him to treat her that way. She merited more respect. Yet the consistent pleas to stay and endure—her financial hardship and the allure of her enigmatic boss—were strong. She knew Kyle would have to do something far graver to derail her from the fifty thousand, and she hadn’t yet given up hope of sticking around to earn more. He had the kind of money that blurred boundaries, especially for a woman who’d spent her life struggling with the currency.
“Take them to the kitchen.” He looked weary as he explained. “Cook can advise you.”
She took the plates away without waiting for further comment, though she noticed how her head hung a little lower than it had on her last journey. Shame compelled it south, perhaps, though whether it was the weight of her own moral compass or his apparent disappointment, she couldn’t say. Passing through the small hallway, she pushed open one of the huge double doors to the kitchen and carried the starter plates to the steel basin.
“Are ya going to clean those for me, lass?” Leonard glanced up from the dishes he was standing over.
“No,” she snapped, hoping beyond reason that he hadn’t just described the next role on her seeming neverending list. “I’m only clearing the table.”
“Right. You can take these through while you’re here.” He barely suppressed a chuckle as he collected the next course and carried the two plates out to the waiting table.
Scurrying after him, she concurred. Limiting the number of times that she and the cook had to interact was just fine by her.
“Duck l’orange.” He motioned curtly to the plates, his Scottish accent grating. “Get them in there while it’s still hot.”
Fuck you.
She glared at the idiot as he stalked away, painfully aware of her scantily-clad attire. She might have been foolish to dress up for Kyle, but she certainly hadn’t done so for Leonard. The rotund asshole was creepy, and as far as she was concerned, he could go to hell.
Waiting until he’d returned to the kitchen, she collected the plates of food and served them to Kyle. She had to admit, the duck looked good and as she placed down his dish, the tasty aroma of the food goaded her empty stomach.
This time, she didn’t wait for the degrading dressing down. Instead, once she’d placed her plate down, she shuffled into position and braced for what was to come.
“Sir, please, may I sit and eat at your table?”