Can
she succumb to the hot sting of his hand and the gentleness of his kisses
without revealing her true identity and darkest secrets?
Disciplined by the Duke
Lords of Discipline #1
Alyson Chase
Releasing Aug 15, 2017
Swerve
The day her
sister murdered their abusive father, Elizabeth Wilcox stopped being a
gentleman’s daughter. Willing to do anything to save her sister from the
hangman’s noose, now she is a spy... A servant. A liar. A thief. A submissive.
Masquerading
as a parlor maid and entrenched in the Duke of Montague’s estate, Liz is
willing to risk all to uncover the secrets that would save her sister. But
submitting to the duke’s peculiar brand of discipline surprises her with a
heady mixture of pleasure and pain. Eager to relinquish control of her messy
life, Liz soon craves the rough hands of Montague and his powerful, passionate
attentions. Can she succumb to the hot sting of his hand and the gentleness of
his kisses without revealing her true identity and darkest secrets? And what
punishment will she face when he realizes her betrayal?
“Look at me.” His voice was quiet. Kind. But no less commanding than when he gave orders to his steward. Or his dogs.
Her gaze rose over
hard thighs, the fall of his trousers, the flat expanse of his stomach, and the
wider expanse of his chest. She looked up until his eyes captured hers and held
on. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes weren’t the gray of unyielding
stone anymore, but rather the shifting silvers and subdued greens of an ocean
tossing in a storm.
“I don’t make a
habit out of breaking anyone’s, anything’s, spirit.” Dropping to a squat,
Montague ran his fingers under Reggie’s jaw.
The heat from his
body, his sudden nearness, curled around Liz. She took a deep breath to calm
her racing heart. But she was swamped with his scent, and her pulse ratcheted
up even higher.
“Sometimes animals
need to be molded so they can become their best selves. Guidance, a firm hand,
training.” His breath bloomed across her cheek with every word. “My horse,
Darkwing, has as much spirit as he did as a foal. I merely redirected it to
productive channels. Now, he and I have a partnership. We each trust the
other.” His lips quirked. “More so than I do most men.”
Digging his
fingers into the soft fur at the back of Reggie’s neck, Montague gently lifted
the pup. “Now if this fellow doesn’t wish to be molded that is his prerogative.
He might not make the grade for a work dog at my estate, but he will make
someone a lovely pet.”
Reggie yipped, and
the duke lowered him to the ground. The puppy coiled around himself like a
snake, obviously exhausted from his day. Montague kept his hand on the dog, his
palm almost large enough to span Reggie’s entire back. He ran his long, tapered
fingers slowly through the puppy’s coat, and Reggie gave one more sleepy yip
before tucking his nose under his tail.
“You seem to have
an affinity for the scamp.” Montague gently rubbed the tip of Reggie’s ear
between his thumb and forefinger. Liz’s own earlobe tingled. “Perhaps you’d
want him as a pet.”
Her heart twisted.
She’d love to spoil a dog. But it wasn’t to be. And the duke should have known
that.
“Where would I
keep him?” She hated to do it. It would ruin the moment, these amazing few
minutes when the duke spoke to her like she was a real person, an equal, not
the hired help. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be able to sit without
fear of violence or discovery. To not have every moment revolve around a job
for Westmore, scraping together enough money for food for her and Amanda,
finding enough coal to keep her warm at night.
This was like an
afternoon of days past, when gentlemen treated her with respect and she wanted
for nothing. She felt like her old self, if only for a moment. The decadence of
it almost made her dizzy.
But being the old
Miss Elizabeth Wilcox was a luxury she could no longer afford.
So she twisted the
blade, just a little. Just enough to sting. “Mr. Todd doesn’t allow servants to
have pets. And if Reggie followed me around on my duties I think he’d probably
make more of a jumble than I could clean in a day.” Taking a deep breath, she
clenched her stomach. “It doesn’t make sense for a chambermaid to have a
puppy.”
And there it was.
That small flicker. The stormy sea hardening back into granite. Montague had
forgotten himself. Or, more accurately, forgotten her. Forgotten how low she
was in relation to him.
Her lungs burned
with the effort to keep her breathing steady. The reminder stung more than
she’d expected. The duke would probably forget his momentary lapse in the time it
took him to return to his house.
It would take her
longer.
And she couldn’t
keep forgetting who she was, why she was here. It hurt too much when reality
crashed back in. So she dug the knife a little deeper into her side.
Picking up the
sleeping puppy from her lap, she laid him next to Reggie. Standing, she brushed
at her skirts, plucking an errant strand of fur from her apron. “Now if you
will excuse me, Your Grace, I have some chamber pots I need to empty.”
Without looking to
see whether she had shocked him, Liz turned on her heel and made her way back
to the side door of Hartsworth. The servants’ entrance.
It
wasn’t until she’d refilled Molly’s bucket and lugged it halfway up the stairs
that she realized she’d forgotten to curtsy before leaving the duke. She could
only hope her disgraceful chamber pot reference had distracted the man too much
for him to notice.
Alyson
Chase writes historical romances that are just a
bit…naughty. She is a former attorney, and thought that her flair for dramatic
and sexy writing was seriously undervalued in her legal career. She also writes
under the name Allyson Charles.
She
lives in Northern California where the incredible weather and natural beauty so
far outweigh the overcrowding and congested freeways. Also, the food in the Bay
Area rocks.
If you
want to know when the next book is coming out, visit her at website and sign up for her newsletter.
Thanks for hosting!
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