TWO
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.
THREE
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 could 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
