Of Love and Lust (Regency Erotica)

by Catherine Gayle

  Of Love and Lust

  Catherine Gayle

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Of Love and Lust

  Copyright © 2011 by Catherine Gayle

  Cover Design by Adrienne Thorne

  Published by Night Shift Publishing at Smashwords

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  For more information: catherinegayle.author@gmail.com

  Envy had never been high on Judith Lipscombe’s list of priorities. It was a rather ugly sensation, all things considered. Yet as she watched Lord and Lady Quinton from across the parlor at Quinton Abby, this blasted envy was yet again making its presence very much known in her heart—much as it did every time she was in their presence.

  Her husband of four years, Piers, Viscount Lipscombe, had never looked at her the way Lord Quinton looked at Aurora on a regular basis—he even looked on her that way now, while Aurora was near to bursting with child. Piers had never looked at her like he was hungry for her, like a man dying of a thirst which only she could quench.

  On the contrary, her husband most frequently looked at her as one might look at a still life painting of a fruit bowl, as something that was simply present in his life. Bored and indifferent.

  Even now, Lord Quinton’s blue eyes held a devilishly randy twinkle as he talked to his wife, leading her ever-so-deviously away from their guests.

  Piers, on the other hand, was far too busy at the whist table with the elderly Lord Rotheby to take notice that Judith was even in the room. She could stand up before the entire gathered crowd and dance a Scottish reel clad in only her drawers and shift, and he’d likely do nothing more than lift a brow and return to his cards.

  Judith had been watching the Quintons for more than a year now, and Aurora still glowed like a blushing bride every day. She wondered what their secret was—how they kept the spark in their marriage. Granted, she and Piers had never had a spark to begin with, so perhaps there was no secret she could learn to use.

  When Lady Coulter bustled over and took the seat next to her on the sofa, Judith forced a smile and nodded. It wouldn’t do to let anyone notice her mood. She took a sip from her after-dinner sherry to avoid having to fabricate something to say to Lord Quinton’s mother.

  “I tend to watch them rather frequently, myself,” Lady Coulter said. She inclined her head in the direction of the Quintons and winked at Judith. “They are so delightfully in love, aren’t they? And they still have a healthy dose of lust, as well, I should say. Which is only fitting. Any marriage needs a fair share of lust. Why, Quin looks ready to bend Aurora over a table and tup her at the first opportunity that presents itself.”

  Judith choked on her sherry.

  “Oh, dear,” Lady Coulter said, patting Judith on the back. “Put your arms up. It’ll help.”

  It took a few moments to get her coughing fit under control. “I’m so sorry,” Judith said once she could breathe again. Her eyes still stung with tears brought on by her surprise.

  “Not at all.” Lady Coulter leaned her head closer, dropping her voice. “I should apologize to you. I fear I shocked you with my candor. I just assumed it was obvious, so why bother beating about the bush?”

  “Indeed,” Judith murmured, trying to keep her eyes in her head where they belonged.

  Lady Coulter winked at her. “I’m sure you and Lord Lipscombe know plenty about all of that though, don’t you? The younger generations all have such vigor. It’s lovely to see.”

  She kept talking for several minutes, never pausing even long enough for Judith to agree with any of her observations. Thank goodness. What should she say, after all? Heavens, I wouldn’t know the first thing about any of that, since my husband rarely comes to my bed more than once or twice a month, fulfills his responsibility, and then leaves without a backward glance. Or if not that, then perhaps she could just lie.

  Then again, Judith had never been very good at fibbing.

  It wasn’t that she and Piers didn’t love each other—far from it, actually. Judith had been in love with her husband since she’d first met him, it seemed, and he said he loved her as well. She believed him, too. He wouldn’t tell her an untruth. Piers would never lie to a living soul for any reason. He was far too good and honorable a man for that.

  There just had never been anything more than love. She had thought it normal, at least until last summer. Then she had first seen the thrilling connection between Aurora and Lord Quinton, and she had realized something was very definitely missing in her own life.

  After quite some time of rambling, Lady Coulter reached over and took Judith’s hand in her own. “I’m boring you to tears, aren’t I? Augustus is always telling me I ought to go out and talk to the trees, because they’d care more what I have to say than most people would. I imagine he’s right.”

  “Not at all,” Judith stammered. “I’m just a bit preoccupied, it seems.” Preoccupied with wallowing in self pity and being envious of the woman’s son’s wife. Not something she was overly inclined to admit to at the moment.

  Piers extricated himself from the whist table and made his way over to her, his stunning form outlined in the flickering glow of candlelight. “I believe I’m going to turn in for the night, dear.” The deep velvet of his voice rolled over her and settled in her core.

  He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, just as he did every night. The faintest hint of stubble grazed her skin and she shivered. His rich, brown eyes held no trace of the need so transparent in Lord Quinton’s gaze. Her heart dropped just a bit further than it already had, and she chastised herself for hoping for something that did not exist.

  He smiled—his usual warm smile, nothing heated or seductive or even remotely extravagant. “Good night, my love.”

  “Oh, but I’m sure Lady Lipscombe would like you to escort her up to bed as well,” Lady Coulter said, smiling suggestively at Judith. “You young couples have better things to do than to sit with me.”

  A furious blush raced to Judith’s cheeks when Piers raised an amused brow. That only seemed to encourage Lady Coulter more. The older woman nudged her with an elbow, and Judith shot to her feet like a cannon had gone off in the next room.

  Piers gave her a quizzical look—one filled with something else she couldn’t quite place. Intrigue? No, perhaps it was more fascination. “I didn’t realize you would wish to retire so early. You so often keep later hours than I do.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Good evening to you then, Lady Coulter.”

  Judith fought to stop blushing as Piers led her through the parlor and into the grand hall. Every eye followed them. None of the other guests had retired for the evening yet. Their departure was entirely too conspicuous. Surely everyone must be thinking…must be thinking what?

  That a husband and wife were off to do what husbands and wives do. That was all.

  Except Judith and Piers weren’t. He would never dream of coming to her bed when they were away from their home. It just wouldn’t be proper, and Piers Lipscombe was nothing if not proper.

  When they reached the grand stairwell leading up to the cloisters where their suite of rooms was located, Piers leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Lady Coulter believes I’m rushing you off to make love to you.”

  The heat of his breath on her cheek left her staggering for air. Judith’s heart tripped into a new, wild beat. “Yes,” she said. She didn’t tr
ust herself to say more.

  His arm moved behind her until his hand rested on the small of her back. He slowed and then stopped at the top of the stairs. Judith turned to him, an unasked question hanging in the air between them.

  His light brown hair glimmered in the light of sconces lining the walls. Piers pulled her closer to him, his large hand drawing her in to his heat. The light sandalwood scent that forever followed him wafted over her and left her reeling. “Is that what you want?” he asked. With his other hand, he lifted one of her mahogany curls from her shoulder and tucked it behind her ear. The gentle touch scorched her.

  Her pulse quickened at the expression in his eyes. It was penetrating and visceral, and so very different from how he’d ever looked at her before. So very like Lord Quinton always looked at Aurora. So very like Judith had dreamed of but never thought she’d experience.

  Again, she said, “Yes,” so softly she feared he couldn’t have heard it.

  Piers didn’t trust his ears to have told him the truth, but his eyes confirmed it. She’d said yes. Hallelujah, there is a god. But wait—did Judith really want what he did, or did she want their normal, five-minute, impersonal bedding?

  He’d been a damned brute on their wedding night, impatient to the point of hurting her far more than was necessary, and she hadn’t been able to look at him afterward. It had been nearly a week before she’d met his eyes again. Since then, Piers had taken great pains to cause her no more pain than necessary with his lustful urges, bedding her only often enough to ensure an heir, despite the long nights spent alone with only his own hand to sate his needs.

  Judith was too far too precious for him to willfully harm her again.

  But her fractured breathing right now, her heavy lids and open lips—if they were signs of desire and not shock, he might expire on the spot from amazement. Her tiny, pink tongue darted out to wet her lips and it was all Piers could do to remain on his feet.

  Everything about her was so small, so delicate, so perfectly delectable it was utter torture for him to touch her and not take all that he wanted.

  Perhaps tonight he would not have to stop himself. Even if it could only be for a moment, he reveled in the thought of sinking into her perfect, tight body again and again, of enjoying her until he was spent, of hearing her cries of ecstasy and not of pain or mortification. Would she allow him?

  He needed to act. Her expression was quickly changing from one of desire to one of discomfiture before his eyes, probably because he’d not yet responded to her whispered confirmation. Judith pulled away from him and started to hurry toward their suite again.

  Blast, he was a bumbling idiot. “Wait,” he called after her.

  She stopped a few paces away from him, staring at her feet. Piers moved in front of her and lifted her chin, resting his hand against the rapid pounding on the side of her neck. Still, she looked away.

  “Judith?”

  Once more, her tongue shot out over her smooth lower lip, and he was lost. His once bothersome erection was now raging to life, fighting against the flap of his pants for freedom. Piers gave in and buried both hands in the loose knot of her hair, pulling that luscious, heart-shaped mouth up to his.

  Her clear, blue eyes shot up to him, filled with both anxiety and desire, when their lips touched. Christ, it was going to be difficult to restrain himself, but he couldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt her.

  Not again.

  Piers tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Cautiously, he traced the joining of her lips with his tongue, delving ever closer. The sweet hint of her sherry was enough to leave him intoxicated and desperate for her. Finally, Judith parted her lips on a sigh, her body falling closer to him until her stomach was pressed against his pulsing length. He needed no further encouragement.

  He moved his hands down, sliding over the intricate fastenings on the back of her gown until he reached her firm bottom. Judith inhaled sharply when he molded his hands against her curves, pressing against her and lifting her high enough they could be joined, if not for their clothing.

  When he kissed down the length of her neck, heading for her breasts, she let out an almost inaudible moan and ground her hips into his, wrapping her arms around his neck to help hold her weight. Good God. Why had he thought her indifferent to his advances before? She was warm and willing now.

  With each breath she took, her chest rose and fell before him, tempting him, teasing him. Piers moved a hand up to cup one of her full, round breasts. A taut nipple strained against his palm through the fine muslin of her gown.

  He’d dreamed of these breasts, of taking them into his mouth and suckling them until she writhed beneath him. For four long years, the thought of them had filled his nights with tortured dreams, as he’d never done more than look down on them, springing wildly beneath him as he rutted into her from above.

  He pushed her back against the closest wall for support. Then he pulled down on her cap sleeve and the top of her bodice until a flawless breast bounced free. Taking it into his mouth, he stroked over the darkened tip with his tongue and rolled it gently between his teeth.

  Judith pressed her hand to the crown of his head and arched her back against him, thrusting herself even deeper into his ministrations. She tossed her head back. It landed with a thud against the wall, but she kept wriggling against him passionately. “Oh, Piers. I never knew,” she murmured. Her smooth, silken voice had taken on a husky, lover’s tone. When he nibbled a path along the side of her breast, she sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Am I interrupting something?” a booming voice drawled out behind him.

  Damnation. Piers lowered his wife to her own feet and reluctantly pulled away from her as she frantically attempted to resituate her gown. Her eyes were panicked. When he turned, careful to block Judith from view, Holbrook stood at the top of the stairs, watching them intently with a lascivious gleam in his cold, black eyes.

  Judith wanted to melt into the floor. She was hot enough it was almost a surprise she hadn’t already done so.

  After a quick prayer of thanks that her husband was a very large man and completely blocked her from the earl’s prowling view, she went back to work, attempting to sort out the mess of her gown. Her tugging was proving useless, however. The fabric was bunched and rolled, and refused to re-cover her nakedness no matter how she yanked at it.

  “Can I help you with something?” Piers asked Lord Holbrook.

  The echo of the earl’s footfalls rang out in the cavernous hall as he moved closer to them.

  Desperate, Judith gave another firm tug at her bodice. The fabric ripped nearly as loudly as Holbrook’s steps. Her heart fell straight through to the parlor below them.

  But then Piers reached one hand behind him and took hers in it, squeezing as he backed up just a fraction of a step.

  “I assume you have the lovely Lady Lipscombe behind you and not a young lady whose virtue must be protected,” Lord Holbrook said mockingly. “I’m in no mood to play the gallant hero this evening—not that I could offer for the chit, anyway.”

  “You’re in luck, Holbrook. No one requires your services this evening.”

  “Well, if Lady Lipscombe is in need of some other services, I could certainly offer those…” His voice trailed off, leaving nothing in doubt as to what he meant, other than how Judith’s experience had limited her imagination.

  “That,” Piers said emphatically, “is most certainly not required. Perhaps you ought to make a similar offer to your own wife. Or have you forgotten you have one? The majority of the ton surely has by now. Good evening to you, sir.”

  “Very well.” A tinge of disappointment rang thick through Holbrook’s voice. “As you were.” His footsteps headed off away from them, and Judith peeked around her husband’s frame to watch him. Just before he reached the end of the long corridor, he glanced back over his shoulder and caught her eye. Lord Holbrook turned around and bowed to her with a flourish before disappearing around the corner.

  When they co
uld no longer hear his departure, Piers turned to her again. Judith held the ripped fabric up over her chest with one hand, breathing deeply.

  He stared down her, his gaze roving over her face to her chest and back again. It was a possessive look. Primitive. Needy. One so very similar to how Lord Quinton always looked at Aurora. Could it truly be?

  “I’d better get you behind closed doors before I rip the rest of your gown from your body and someone else comes upon us.”

  “Of course,” was all she could say in response. Rip her gown off? She hadn’t realized it was possible to get any hotter than she’d already been.

  Piers took her free hand and pulled her along behind him, forcing her almost into a run in order to keep up with his long legs. She trembled all the while with anticipation and the slightest amount of trepidation.

  At the end of the hall, he turned the opposite direction from Lord Holbrook. After a few more turns, he opened the door to their suite and drew her inside behind him, closing the door and pushing her up against it in a single movement.

  Then his hands were everywhere: on her breasts, in her hair, behind her and kneading her derrière, pulling her gown up to bunch at her waist, roving over her thighs. His length pressed into her stomach, hot and hard, and as thick as ever. If the door weren’t holding her up, Judith was certain she’d be a puddle on the floor. As it was, her legs had turned to jelly and shook harder with each new sensation.

  His mouth was on her again, suckling on her nipple in that glorious, wicked, sinful way he’d done before. She couldn’t stop herself from calling out and drawing closer to him, closer to his heat and strength.

  He backed away for a moment and Judith nearly fell forward in her need to stay connected to him. True to his word, Piers snatched her gown from her body. The fine muslin split along the path she’d started, falling from her body in a heap of tattered remains. And he didn’t stop there, either, tearing her chemise and stays free, then making short work of her drawers. In moments, she stood before him in nothing more than her slippers and a ruby necklace.