A Perfect Pearl (Regency Erotica) Read online

  A Perfect Pearl

  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.

  A Perfect Pearl

  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: [email protected]

  “Tell us something delicious,” Judith, Lady Lipscombe said to Elaine. “Something wicked and scandalous about Raynesford.” She leaned over the table between them, dropping her voice to hardly above a whisper.

  Elaine’s heart stopped. Something wicked or delicious or scandalous about Owen? There wasn’t such a thing to tell. With Owen Shelton, Viscount Raynesford, what one saw was precisely what he was. From what his sister told her, he’d always been that way.

  “Oh, yes, you simply must, Elaine,” Vivian added. “After all, we’ve told you all about Tucker and Lipscombe—or at least about how they’ve been this last week while we’ve been at Quinton Abbey.”

  Indeed, Judith and Vivi had told her all sorts of mischievous tales of their nighttime adventures of late. More than enough to leave her wondering if she’d ever experience anything of the sort. Elaine thought for a moment, searching her mind for something she could tell them—anything at all—other than the truth.

  Nothing came to mind, however.

  “There’s really nothing to tell. I’m sorry.”

  Judith’s jaw dropped open. “You mean to tell us that Raynesford is exactly like that in your bed?” She pointed over to where Owen sat in a plush armchair by the hearth, an open book about horse breeding before him, oblivious to all the hooting and hollering from the card tables around him, to the silly, unmarried girls twittering in the corner near him, and even to the raucous game of charades taking place near the south wall.

  For just a moment, he glanced up at Elaine and caught her eye. He half-smiled, then returned his attention to his book.

  She let out a sigh. “Yes, you could say that.”

  “He doesn’t bring a book of instructions to bed with you, I hope,” Vivi whispered. “I’d be tempted to strike him over the head with it, if he did.”

  Elaine chuckled at the image, but shook her head. “He’s never done anything remotely like that.”

  “What does he do, then?” Vivi asked.

  A gaggle of the house party’s unmarried ladies passed by their table. Elaine waited until they were well out of earshot, then took a quick glance around to be sure no unwelcome ears were listening in before she answered. “Well, it’s nothing like what you two have told me about.” She stopped herself and thought hard before continuing. Elaine would never want to say anything bad about her husband. Owen was the sweetest man, once you were able to delve past his gruff exterior, at least.

  “Does he avoid your bed?” Judith asked. “Piers rarely used to come to me, you know. It all changed here.”

  “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that,” Elaine rushed on. “We…er, well…” A deep blush heated her cheeks and she lowered her voice even more. “We make love frequently. Almost every night, still, and we’ve been married for years.”

  “Is it rather tedious, though?” Vivi put in. “Same position every night?”

  Tedious wouldn’t be quite right. Vigorous, certainly. Owen always made certain she found her pleasure, too. He was a very considerate lover in that regard. But it was always in precisely the same position each night—him above, her below, fast and feverish, and then it was done. There was never any variety.

  Judith frowned when Elaine didn’t answer. “Perhaps he ought to bring a book of instructions with him, then.”

  “One with diagrams,” Vivi said with a devious gleam in her eye. “I could paint some watercolors for you, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, heavens, no.” Owen would be furious she’d discussed their private affairs with anyone else if he ever found out. And surely, if she came to him with paintings, he’d know.

  “No,” Judith murmured, her eyes narrowed in thought. “But clearly, Raynesford won’t change his ways without a bit of prodding. You’ll simply have to introduce him to some new bedroom activities, Elaine.”

  “I couldn’t do that.” Could she? Could she be bold and daring enough to suggest something as wanton as that?

  “You can, and you will,” Vivi pronounced emphatically. “Come with me.” She stood up and took Elaine by the hand, gesturing for Judith to follow along with them as well. Without giving Elaine a chance to decline, Vivi tugged her out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

  Owen glanced up from his book to watch his wife being led away by the wives of Lipscombe and Lord Tucker Flynn. She looked a little panicked. He smiled inside. It would be good for her, whatever they were planning to do.

  Ever since they’d married and she’d left her sisters, she’d been sorely lacking in female companionship. To be sure, there were plenty of women in his family. But Tabitha, Bethanne, and Jo tended to move as a flock, never really allowing anyone else into their ranks. The other women were either significantly older and married or rather younger and unmarried.

  Elaine simply didn’t have all that much in common with the females in his family, which meant she was stuck, more often than not, with Owen to keep her entertained.

  He did a damned poor job of it, too, he feared.

  Owen still hadn’t discovered just how or why he’d been fortunate enough to win Elaine’s favor—why she loved him—but he said a prayer of thanks for her every day, and tried to show her his love every night.

  He had half a mind to follow her and show her right now, but held back. She needed some time for feminine companionship. That, more than anything else, was the reason he’d accepted the Quintons’ invitation this summer.

  When Holbrook plopped down in the seat across from him, Owen returned his attention to his book. The earl was far from the sort of company he preferred to keep. If he wanted to occupy himself with drinking, gambling, whoring, and the like, Owen need look no further than his own brother, Toby, back at Ainsworth Court. Unlike Holbrook, however, Toby could at least be excused the continued sowing of his wild oats if one took into consideration his youthful age and opportune lack of wife. Someday, he would become a respectable gentleman—or so Owen hoped. He held out no such expectation for the lecherous Holbrook.

  “Ah, horse breeding again,” Holbrook said, leaning over closer to him. “Haven’t you learned enough about that yet, Raynesford? You’ve hardly done anything this last sennight save read similar books.”

  Owen spared the earl a scowl and turned the page.

  The Bornholm clock next to the hearth ticked loud in the silence between them.

  Holbrook shifted in his chair, adjusting his long legs so they stretched out before him and crossing one ankle before the other. “Pity you haven’t been paying more attention to the lovely Lady Raynesford. I know I have been.”

  At that, Owen’s eyes flashed up to meet the lascivious gleam in Holbrook’s cold, black gaze. “Perhaps it would behoove you to pay such attention to Lady Holbrook instead of my wife.”

  He slammed his book closed and tossed it to the table before him, then stalked from the suddenly repressive drawing room. Though it was dark out, he headed out through the gardens and made for the mews. A ride would do him good, and Quinton had been adamant that he should feel free
to make use of any of his mounts should he see fit.

  Only when he was halfway there did he see the folly in his decision. He should have gone straight up to Elaine. He should be making certain that Holbrook didn’t follow through with his implied threats. Turning around mid-stride, Owen took the back stairs two at a time, heading up to the abbey’s old dormitories where he and Elaine shared interconnecting rooms.

  Without bothering to knock, he pushed open the door and came to an immediate stand-still. Elaine turned around, wide-eyed, halfway dressed in some gauzy, almost sheer nightrail and stockings. She wore a long string of pearls, wrapped three times around her neck, and her blonde hair was still pulled into its knot above her shoulders—but his wife had nothing else on. She was still pulling the garment into place with the assistance of the two ladies she’d left with.

  He caught the briefest glimpse of one lovely, pink nipple before it was swallowed up by the fabric. His heart tripped into his throat at the thought of swallowing such a divine little bud. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, ladies,” Owen choked out. He took a step backward, then forced himself to turn away from the intoxicating sight.

  “No need to leave, Lord Raynesford,” one of her friends called out after him. “Lady Lipscombe and I were just on our way out.” The two dark-haired women scurried past him, the smaller of them turning and winking at him just before closing the door.

  For several moments, Owen stood rooted to the floor in just that position. What on earth was going on? Why had they been with Elaine, helping her put on something so delectable and immodest, something so very different from anything she’d worn in his presence before? He fought to slow his pulse, lest he turn around and ravish her more thoroughly than he’d ever done before, though it seemed a lost cause to even attempt such a thing.

  “Owen?” she said timidly from behind him.

  The delicate tips of her fingers landed almost imperceptibly on the bend of his elbow, yet he was so alert to her every bewitching movement it felt like a horse had just thrown him. With faint steps, she moved deliberately to stand before him, robbing him of the ability to breathe. The top of her nightrail hung loose, giving him a painfully clear view of her bosom, the pert nipples straining beneath his gaze.

  Stretching up on her tiptoes, Elaine pulled him down to meet her lips in a searing kiss. He growled deep in his throat and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pulling her against the erection already straining at his breeches, but she pushed against him, resuming the previous distance between them.

  “Not so fast,” she murmured, drawing her tongue against the line of his jaw and stretching it beneath his chin. “I thought we’d do things a little differently tonight.”

  Elaine wasn’t sure if that was a groan or a growl coming from her husband. Either way, she rushed on before she lost the little bit of courage she’d built up. She said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t regret listening to Vivi and Judith.

  “Tonight,” she said, “it’s going to be my way.” Reaching up with her hands, she undid the knot of his cravat and then pulled him by it over to the bergère chair next to her canopied bed. Thankfully, he followed. She wasn’t certain what she would have done if he didn’t cooperate.

  His hands came about her waist again, and she minced out of his reach, then turned him around and pushed him down into the chair.

  “You’re to sit there.”

  Owen’s blue-grey eyes were clouded with lust in the flickering glow of candlelight, but that was nothing new or unexpected. He’d always had a healthy amount of lust for her. Elaine just wanted him to exercise it in a different manner.

  Backing up a few steps, she pulled the pins from her hair and shook her head, letting the mass of blonde hair fall free about her. It came nearly to her waist. Owen had once begged her never to cut it again, because he loved it so much. On more than just the rare occasion, she would awake at night with him drawing his fingers through the length. Even now, his breathing turned rough.

  She met his gaze and held it as she sat on the edge of the bed. Then, doing as Vivi had encouraged her to do, Elaine lifted one leg up onto the bed, almost allowing him a glimpse of her secret places but not quite, and slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. She watched her husband the entire time, amazed by how such a simple matter could so enthrall him. He was quite nearly drooling at the sight, yet he remained where she’d placed him. His body was tense and taut, like he might burst at any moment.

  When the first stocking was free, Elaine lowered it to the floor again and then repeated the procedure with the opposite leg and stocking. The tent in Owen’s trousers was quite a sight to behold, straining against his buttons in a manner she couldn’t recall ever witnessing before.

  As she methodically removed the stocking from her calf, Owen gripped the arms of the chair so tight his knuckles nearly turned white.

  Watching his reaction was all it took to make her breath falter. Elaine’s pulse raced through her veins and she trembled from the heat of his stare. Somehow, she kept her wits about her enough to smile at him.

  She inhaled and tried to calm herself enough to speak. “I thought it might be nice to slow down some.” Grazing tentative fingers over the insides of her thighs, she drew ever nearer to her sex, his eyes following her trail the entire way. The tips of her fingers disappeared beneath the hem of her nightrail for a moment. “Is this all right?”

  “This is torture,” Owen growled.

  Elaine laughed then, surprised at the husky quality of her own voice. She dropped both feet to the floor and glided across to him. Immediately, he reached out for her, but she batted his hands away. “No touching. Not yet.”

  He groaned and locked his hands even tighter to the chair arms.

  She knelt at his feet and pulled off his boots, tossing them to the side of the room so they’d be out of the way. Then she undid the buttons on his coat and waistcoat and lowered them over his shoulders. “Care to help me get these off?” she asked when she couldn’t get them past the death-grip he had on the chair.

  He leapt to his feet and almost ripped the garments in his haste to remove them.

  “Slow down, Owen.” Elaine put a hand on his stomach and his shaft twitched enough that it tugged against his clothing.

  He calmed his movements and somehow pulled the coat free without destroying it. As soon as he’d done that, she pushed him back down in his chair.

  Elaine moved around behind the chair and leaned down over him. She nibbled his earlobe while tugging his shirt free from his breeches. “Arms up,” she commanded. As soon as he was bare-chested, she ran both hands over his chiseled muscles, teased his hardened nipples with her fingers, tangled them in the trail of hair down his navel until his legs were twitching with the strain of holding himself back.

  She smoothed her hands lower still, until her fingers just slid beneath the top of his breeches, and he shot up from the chair, moving halfway across the room in a single movement.

  “This torment is madness.” His voice sounded carnal and animalistic, so much wilder than she’d ever heard him before. Owen stood, staring at her, his chest heaving an irregular pattern with the force of his tattered breathing.

  With an air of audaciousness she didn’t know she possessed, Elaine lifted a brow. “Sit down, Owen. I haven’t finished with you, yet.”

  Remarkably, he returned to the chair and sat, twining his arms through the wooden arms of the chair as though to force himself to remain still.

  She moved back in front of him and straddled his hips, blazing a trail down his chest with her tongue. He sucked in a breath, his muscles quivering everywhere she touched him. When she circled one of his nipples with her tongue and then pressed her lips over it, suckling it inside her mouth, he shouted into the night.

  Lifting herself up off of him, Elaine raised the hem of her nightrail and slowly, tantalizingly, pulled it free from her body and over her head.

  In their current position, Elaine’s soft breasts stood just across from his
eyes, the pink buds pebbled into hard peaks. Owen licked his lips, wanting desperately to lean forward and take one into his mouth as she’d done to his, but doing his damnedest to hold himself back.

  This was Elaine’s game. This was her experiment, and he’d be damned if he was going to ruin it for her.

  Then her hands were at the flap of his breeches, undoing his buttons with the same maddening deliberateness as she was undoing him. Her fingers slid along his aching erection through the fabric, and Owen was astonished he kept himself seated. His only thought was of tossing her to the floor on her back and rutting into her.

  Finally, she freed his member and they could get on with it. He started to remove his hands from the chair, but Elaine shook her head. “Stay put,” she whispered.

  Lowering herself to the floor, she kneeled between his legs, pushed his breeches down over his hips, and lowered her lips to him. Christ in heaven. At first, she placed chaste little kisses all up and down his length. He could handle that without spending himself all over her. Somehow.

  But then she trailed her pointed tongue along the top, wrapped it around to the bottom, and traced his length all the way back. Owen tightened his grip on the chair arms to the point he wondered he hadn’t broken them off.

  Warm, wet lips settled over the head and pushed down, taking him inside. The sensation was almost like being inside her sheath in some ways, but so very, very different at the same time. Elaine delved further, until half his length was inside the moist haven of her mouth. Owen sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth, unable to look away from the fiendishly lustful sight. She bobbed her head over him, taking him deeper each time he pressed back down again.

  His hips bucked up to meet her, almost of their own accord, at the same time as he shouted again. Good God, he’d never experienced such blazing need before.