Read Lust for Free Online

it.
    â€œYour Grace,” his duchess murmured as she swished through the opened library door. “The bills have arrived for the girls’ trousseaux.”
    Leaning forward, Lennox waved his duchess into the room, still awed by her dazzling beauty after all these years of marriage. “And what has their trousseaux set me back?”
    â€œAn enormous amount,” she said with a smile as he captured her hand in his and brushed his lips along her fingers. She blushed. As pretty still as the day he had first laid eyes on her. He had wanted her so much. Still did. Nothing would have stopped him from possessing her. In fact, nothing had. There had been one particular hurdle to jump, but nothing too serious.
    â€œThe modiste has done an extraordinary job of dressing them,” his wife said. “Wait till you see them in their new gowns. Mrs. Hartwell has such a way with color and draping. And the lace,” his wife continued, obviously over the moon with pride, “the lace on their cuffs is at least three inches thick, and so finely spun. I can hardly credit how she is able to design such gowns.”
    He did not want this private moment with his wife spoiled by talk of the village modiste. “Why you did not send for a modiste from London for a proper trousseau, I will never understand,” he grumbled, thinking of the woman who ran the only clothing shop in Glastonbury. “You know how I adore my girls, nothing is too good for them. I want them to have the best.”
    â€œI like our modest little modiste,” his wife replied. “And their gowns look as though they were designed andmade in Paris, not Glastonbury. Besides, our modiste is rather gifted.”
    His brows arched. “In what way?”
    â€œThe villagers say she’s been blessed by faeries. They say,” his wife murmured, leaning into him, “that the reason her gowns are so magnificent and her stitches so delicate, and her lace so beautiful, is that the faeries visit her nightly and fill her orders.”
    A harrowing thought, indeed.
    â€œThey say,” his wife continued, whispering in his ear, “that our little village modiste is happy to repay them in their favored currency.”
    â€œCarnalities?”
    â€œHoneyed milk.”
    Patting her rump, Lennox sent his wife a lusty smile. “How little you know of the fey, my dear, for they would much prefer humping to honey.”
    She blushed at his vulgarity. “What are you working on?” she asked, flipping through the papers that littered his desk.
    â€œNothing to concern yourself with, my dear,” he cajoled. Gathering up the papers, he stacked them away from her reach. His investments were listed there, and some of them were dubious to say the least. He had no wish for his wife to discover how he made his coin. Her Grace might be beyond accepting if she were to learn that the jewels around her throat were paid for by his investment in a notorious bawdy house that catered to humans and fey alike.
    â€œYour Grace…” His butler coughed discreetly from the door. “You have a caller.”
    â€œWho is it, Salisbury?” he grumbled, not wanting to be disturbed. His wife was feeling much too fine in his lap, and the thought of the Nymph and the Satyr, the bawdy house and all the erotic, decadent delights to be found there, had him aroused. Suddenly he found himself wondering what it would be like to have his wife and a little fey concubine addressing his needs. He had heard that the fey, particularly the Dark Fey, could fuck like the devil. Perhaps he would make a trip into the city and watch a female fey with her lover from behind the privacy of a peephole. He could put the theory to a test to see if indeed the fey were sexually insatiable. And maybe he’d even have one, too, a little pixie on his cock.
    What a delightfully debauched diversion. Perversity was a healthy thing to maintain a man’s vigor as he