Page 42 of The Rake
“He probably panicked,” Margot said.
“You must mean a great deal to him, or at least he must trust you, given he has always feared the scandal of me.” Caton pulled up a stool to sit close to her, and Margot sensed he was weighing and judging her, trying to figure out what was beneath the surface of her that might have captured the interest of Langley.
“I am sure it is simply convenience. I have no powerful allies, given the duke is dead. He felt he is not at risk. Or you. I hasten to add that I would never tell a soul.”
Caton nodded and then smiled, the judgement leaving his face. “Your parents live in the north of England?”
“Yes,” Margot said. “And I have two younger siblings. No one of importance. Aside from to me.”
“Save for a dead duke for a godfather.”
“With his death ends a great deal of the estate’s obligations…” Margot trailed off. She did not know if her cousin, the new duke… Another worry whirled through Margot’s mind, where was the blasted heir and what had he done with Elsie?
Before Caton could reply, there was a knock at the door, and then it swung open and in stepped Langley, for a moment surprise showed on his face, and then he smiled, and Margot felt her stomach tighten with awareness.
“You’re awake,” Langley said. He hurried to her side, discarding the basket and cloak he carried, lifting her from the armchair, and spinning her round rather like she was a child.
The movement and his excitement made Margot laugh as she clung to his shoulders, the skirts of her demure dress catching and flying outwards. He made her feel breathless, but when he slowed Margot felt a moment of regret that the giddiness was ending. She stared up into his eyes and smiled with unfettered joy—the fears, the doubts, the rest of the world she knew would come, were blessedly far away in that moment.
Only when she heard the click of the door did Margot realise that Caton had slipped out, leaving them alone.
“I for one have been worried sick,” Langley started as his eyes raked her face, studying it for any sign of distress or weakness.
Unable to help herself, Margot leant forward, lifting her hands from his shoulders to his face, holding it in place. She envisioned doing so whilst tossing and turning in the bed, fantasying, and imaging this moment—thinking it more likely it would stay there forever, as a dream and nothing more. So, she kissed him, sealing her lips to his and tasting him. Darting her tongue into his mouth until she heard him groan and felt his strong arms coming around her. He smelt of fresh spring air, the rich aroma of coffee, and a scent that was uniquely Silvester: a masculine fragrance that set her blood alight.
Margot had always assumed that by giving in to Silvester, giving in to her temptations, she would be lost. But as their kissing intensified, she was realising something entirely different—this discovery, this releasing and embracing of sensation and sensuality was not a loss, but a momentous gain.She was becoming her true self, and it was glorious. For those reasons, she could never regret this. She would never regret him.
Silvester’s right arm had encircled her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, giving her little room to breathe until she had to pull back gasping, her body bright and alive for him. All the memories of the last time they’d made love were playing through her skin and senses, and she knew she wanted him again. That waiting for a respectable moment was beyond the pair of them. It would have to be here, and now, and nothing else would do.
“Tell me how much you want me.” Silvester’s growl was silk in her ear, rough and keen as he leant close. Margot nodded, not entirely trusting her own voice not to wobble. “I need to hear you say it.” He pulled back slightly as he looked her up and down. “This gown won’t do…” It was more of a murmur. “Far too cumbersome to try and remove it completely.”
Finding the ribbon at the back of the dress, Silvester loosened it, but his hands did not leave her rear, choosing to drift his fingers down and cup her rump between his two hands, pressing her against his erection. His clever fingers gripped and then trailed up her back as Margot attacked the material at his throat, eager to see his body again. The last time it had been dark, and the enormity of the event had overwhelmed her, however now she could luxuriate in it. “Lud, I won’t have any shirts left by the time you’re done.” There was a laugh to his voice, a familiar teasing note that warmed Margot and made her bolder.
When she raised her eyes to Langley’s face, she whispered, “I want you in every way known to man. I dream about it. I want to remember it when we’re apart, and know that you are thinking of it too. I want?—”
Whatever she had been about to say was cut off when, with a ferocity that Margot adored, Silvester grabbed her, hismouth descending mercilessly, both tender and all-consuming. Stumbling and interlocked, the two of them staggered over to the nearest available flat surface, which happened to be a small desk, and Margot felt her bottom nudge against the ridge as she was lifted up and onto the smooth top. Silvester’s hands rummaged beneath her heavy skirts, parting her trembling limbs, running his fingers up her legs until he stroked a deft finger against her sex. The probing touch caused Margot to cry out. It would not be enough—she wanted him inside her.
Silvester seemed to sense this, because he loosened the folds of his breeches, and his manhood sprang free. Immediately he leant closer, the feel of his desire against the damp curls at the apex of her thighs.
“I should be writing you poetry, God, reciting you something?—”
“Don’t you dare,” Margot said, grabbing hold of his face to pull him once more into a passionate kiss. As their mouths met, Silvester plunged inside her.
CHAPTER 20
With the ease of someone far too familiar with the sexual act, someone well versed in every aspect of it, Silvester had always assumed there was nothing new, nothing remarkably different between his various lovers over the years. As he watched Margot’s eyes widen, her eyelashes flutter closed, the movement of her throat as she swallowed, the wings of her eyebrow deepen briefly in a frown before she smiled at him, he knew he had been entirely wrong. This experience—this lovemaking—was as different as night and day, and to compare Margot to anything that had come along previously was a downright lie.
One of his hands settled on the jut of her hip, his fingers lightly pinching into the rounded curve of her bottom, loving the noise Margot made at the contact. The movement angled her slightly so he could push further inside her. Her warm, tight inner muscles clung to him in a manner that caused tears to gather in the corner of his eyes, and Silvester had to blink to clear his vision. Hastily, he reached down eager to ensure that Margot felt as overwhelmed with sensuality as he did. If he touched her in the right way, he would hear those mewing sounds of her joy again. So, with his other hand, Silvester movedfrom where it had been gripping her dress in place, to press at the peak of Margot’s sex. She was wet, damp with desire, and when he found the right spot she wriggled, her body tightening already. Caressing and stroking her as Silvester moved deeply inside her, Margot’s head dropped back, and she moaned. The sheath of her muscles tightened around him with delicious squeezing sensations, and held Silvester’s cock so seductively that he immediately thought he was going to lose himself and finish inside her. Then and there. In his haste he drew out of her, hearing her groan in disappointment at the emptiness. Margot’s hands moved from holding on to the desk and part of her skirts, to clinging to him in an attempt to pull Silvester back inside her quivering body.
“Hush, love.” Silvester was too close. He was deeply unnerved by the effect Margot was having on him. His hand smoothed down her cheek as he held himself in check, reminding himself of his reputation, telling himself that an untutored virgin should not be able to render him into such a state. He urgently needed to get a grip of himself.
Silvester’s eyes met hers, and he forced any worries from his mind and grinned at Margot in what he hoped was a wickedly appealing manner. Whilst he was now getting the better of his baser, desperate urges, he still wanted to be back inside her, driving her wild once more. Or perhaps he would find that with further exploration of Margot’s delicious body, he would find himself cured. Either way, he could never stop now. “We’ve only just started,” he said, leaning closer to her, his mouth next to her ear.
Margot bit her lip, a look of confusion darting over her features at what he might have in mind. “What more do you want?” Her eyes travelled down his partly clothed body, the obviously still aroused cock catching her attention.
There was something in her expression that further inflamed Silvester, and he thought of what she had said earlier, of wanting him in every conceivable way, and he needed that too. He might push her back down onto the desk, hike up her skirts and thrust once more into her welcoming depths. Or he could encourage her off the desk and down onto the carpet, to take his more than willing cock between her beguiling lips. But the latter request he feared would be too intimate and might push him further into the emotional spiral that was already consuming him, drowning him in feelings he could not control.
It was time, he hoped, to put a tiny amount of space between the two of them, and yet still entice and bind her senses.
