Protege(80)

“Sir?”

“Yes, peach.”

“I should greet you this way naked?”

“Yes, unless I instruct you otherwise. There will be times I bring company home with me. Depending on who I’m with, I may prefer to have you clothed.”

She nodded. Even clothed, this could seem odd to some, but she hadn’t met anyone at the chateau who wasn’t a member of Fernweh yet, so she supposed they would understand.

“When you rise”—he held out his hand, assisting her up in a smooth glide—“you will rise and kiss me.” He pulled her arms around his shoulders and rested his palms on her bare bottom, mouth curving as he grinned. “Kiss me, peach.”

Smiling, she went to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips to his. His mouth tilted over hers, taking full control and leaving her dizzy and a bit needy.

“Good girl.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Let’s have lunch.”

As they ate, Jude watched her, his eyes hardly blinking as he chewed. Her mouth tightened as the deep warmth his attention created spread into what she was sure to be a rosy blush which then teased a smile on her lips.

“You’re quite breathtaking when you blush, Collette.”

The tight smirk bloomed into a full smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

“No need to thank me. I only speak the truth. Your curls mesmerize me. How on earth do you twist them up into that little bun of yours? I find myself waiting and making bets for the delinquent ones to spring free of their bonds. Makes me want to give them a tug.”

Self-consciously she brushed a hand over her hair. Sure enough, several curls had escaped her chignon. “They’re a nightmare.”

“On the contrary. I dream of them often.”

Her breath slowly escaped as her stomach went weak. He dreamed of her? Well, of her hair. Still . . .

He continued to study her, his attention unnerving. But in a way that made her want to hide and also made her worry he might stop.

Finishing her soup, she placed the spoon aside and wiped her mouth. He’d finished his lunch and picked at a fresh roll, his elbows carelessly on the table as he tore away a morsel and fed it through his full lips. He had beautiful lips, thick and sensual, not something men often had.

She swallowed. “Can I get you anything else?”

His eyes creased and her heart raced. “Yes.” Swallowing the last bit of bread, he brushed the crumbs off his hands and stood. “I’d like you to go to the library, take one of the pillows off the sofa, and place it next to my chair. You have fifteen minutes to do this. I have an errand to run and when I return I have a few calls to make. I want you by my side while I work.”

“Oui, mon Monsieur.” It seemed whenever he set a demand to her, she switched to French. She wasn’t sure what provoked this volleying between languages, she only knew it felt natural and he seemed to like it.

She stood and cleared the table, making quick work of the dishes. After freshening up, she went to the library and waited on the pillow as he asked. Brow tightening, she suddenly felt unsure. Should she be here or at the door like he’d shown her earlier?

Surely this was where he wanted her to be. He’d expressly instructed her to be here when he returned in fifteen minutes, which was more like two minutes now.

The soft hum of his car pulled into the driveway and her breath came out in a rush. What if she wasn’t where he wanted? It wasn’t a fear of punishment that worried her, but a deep desire to please him. She was not afraid of disappointing him. She knew he’d never treat her harshly, but on her own scale she wanted to please him—her motives completely driven by the desire for his praise, not fear of criticism.

Her ears zeroed in on the sound of his footsteps, the echo of each stride growing louder the closer he came. Her heart raced and she’d worked herself into such a panic she wasn’t even paying attention to her posture. She sat sloppily like a cross-legged toddler on a pillow.

The door opened and he stilled, a frown immediately marring his beautiful face. Shit. He must have wanted her by the front door. “What’s the matter?” he asked before she could apologize.

Her face dropped to her hands, despising how muddled she’d made something so simple. “I screwed up.”

“What are you talking about?” He slowly stepped into the room and shut the door, a dark green envelope landing on the chair as he entered.

Fixing her position, she switched to her knees and placed her palms open and up on her thighs. “I wasn’t sure if this was where you wanted me?”

He continued to frown. “Was I unclear?”

She glanced at the floor.

He sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes. You are exactly where I want you to be. Your posture could’ve been improved, but you’ve done that. Where was the confusion?”

She swallowed. “The door, you said I should greet you at the door.”

“Ah.” He grinned and came around the desk to his chair, his hand tugging on an escaped curl. “I didn’t mean to confuse you. When I give a specific command, I expect it to override protocol and etiquette. You did as I asked.”

Relief should have elevated the stress of her confusion, but it lingered. She wanted to do more than please him. She wanted to awe him. She’d had the opportunity and screwed it up.

“Collette, what’s the matter?”