Page 43 of The Rake
“I hope you trust me.”
Margot nodded, and with as much skill as he could muster, Silvester eased her forward until she was on the very edge of the desk, before spinning her around so she faced away from him. Lifting up her skirts to expose the gaping underclothes, he moved his hand between her parted thighs, cupping and stroking her in this new position until he could glide his fingers into her willing warmth. Shaking, Margot arched against the physical intrusion, her body eager for more as she encouraged him to move thoroughly inside her. Bending over her, Silvester urged her to lean further over the desk, her toes straining to keep contact with the floor.
With his desire gone past endurance, Silvester moved backwards, pleased with the view of Margot there. He lifted the remaining part of Margot’s skirts, piling them at her waist to give him an unrestricted access to her hips, arse, and drawers. With far less skill than he would have liked, he yanked down the remaining undergarments, leaving them pooled on the ground. Then he stepped once more between her parted legs. A shaky intake of breath came from Margot as she realised what he intended, a blend of heightened emotion and, he hoped, a deepdesire. She pressed herself backwards, enthusiastic for him to continue. Holding on to the rounded cheeks of her bottom, he slid inside her. The feeling was immense, and Silvester closed his eyes with a sigh of contentment. It was gratifying to hear Margot gasp loudly at the immediate intrusion. He felt her body shake, a jerk to her shoulders, almost like she was pinching herself because of the feeling, and Silvester thought she might have found a slight release. Her tight, wet sheath held him, caressing and flexing at the new sensation. With a smirk that was entirely for himself, and he thought that initial reaction of hers was not going to be the last of the day. Her cries increased as Silvester started to move, rocking backwards and forwards as he thrust into her with increasing ferocity.
“You look glorious,” he said admiringly, holding on to her flesh as he measured out his movements, timing them until Margot was begging for more. He noted with satisfaction the flex in her back and the gripping of her knuckles as she held on to the table, clearly in the midst of her own sensual and sexual battle.
Sensations rushed in. Intense pleasure, but Silvester knew smugly that he was used to such things. No, there was something else at play, and every time Silvester tried to push it away, a new emotion welled up in him, desperate for attention.
Keen to suppress such thoughts, he stroked one hand over her perfect peach of an arse, before dipping into the small space between the peak of her sex and the desk, stroking against the intimate point that would give Margot yet another release. Pressing down over her, unable to resist the gap that suddenly appeared between her neck and gown, Silvester kissed the exposed skin there.
Margot lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, keeping him in place close to her. He expected her to say something, but when she giggled, he felt all his carefully held cynicism crumble under the humour and excitement she felt. A wave of joy unrelated tothe position Silvester found himself in, and instead connected to the immense feelings Margot inspired in him washed to the surface. She was his Amazon. A fellow investigator. The bravest, most amusing and luminous brunette who had…
His body jerked as he found the right angle, marvelling in the sensation before his famed control vanished and his body spasmed, finding his own release whilst still buried inside her body.
As wondrous as his finish was, a small spasm of guilt shot through him. It was the second time he had unthinkingly found his completion inside her, with no barrier in place. Hastily, he drew back and scooped Margot off the desk and up into his arms, carrying her across to the bed and laying the pair of them down amongst the sheets.
Women liked to be held after a coupling, and Silvester always honoured this, but if he were completely honest that was not why he wrapped his arms around Margot, holding her head to his shoulder.
After a moment, to his surprise, he heard a muffled sniff that sounded almost like it might be the start of his Margot on the edge of tears.
“Not this darn bed again. I have spent an inordinate amount of time here,” she said grumpily against his shoulder, and Silvester laughed, partly out of relief. He smoothed her loosened hair from her face, and rolled over to properly consider her. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling despite them.
“What is wrong?” Silvester said.
“I need to tell you the truth. The whole of it.” She was watching him closely. “And I am scared that when I do, you won’t look at me the same way again.”
Suspicion raised its ugly head, and Silvester braced himself for the destruction of this woman’s image he had grown to… tocare for so deeply. “You can tell me,” he said. “If I can help, I will do so.”
“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. It is unalterable. A mere statement of fact that nothing will ever change.”
Had she lied? Were the keys they had been collecting all nonsense and a silly game? Was she married? Widowed? Was she…
“I am a bastard,” she said, the crudity ill-suited to her perfect lips, as Silvester watched uncomprehendingly. Her face crumpled, emotions flitting across it but not settling for too long: shame, sadness, and regret. He did not understand. Again and again, she had referred to her lovely family home miles away, idyllic in a vicarage close to Scotland. He had pictured the place, with its view of the sea, a piano, and hearty stone walls. It had been possible to imagine those home-cooked biscuits for tea, Margot’s mother made. He could almost taste those divine sweet treats crumbling on the tip of his tongue, sweetened with vanilla honey, alongside the whisky her father preferred, whilst her mother’s voice sang through the cottage.
Sitting up so he could view her more clearly, he nodded. “I understand.” Although in truth he did not. Why had she lied? Why had she thought so little of him as to not trust him with the truth?
“After everything… perhaps I should not. I know how…” Margot leant closer, still seeking reassurance from him. Silvester took her hand, held it, but he knew he was only partly listening, mainly dwelling on what she had said, or rather what she had lied about. Did that mean everything else she’d told him had been untrue too? “My father was Duke Ashmore.”
“And the new duke you’re waiting for is your cousin?”
“The heir won’t know that; he won’t have any loyalty to me.”
“Some men might…”
“Your father did not have any for your brother.” Her statement twisted through his gut, bringing up all those memories, everything his father had endured, and everything his mother had done. It had destroyed his family. The distaste must have shown on his face, as Margot’s eyes widened.
“This is what I feared, I would tell you this secret and it would all come back to your mother’s affair and to poor Doctor Caton.”
Before he could think of a response, Margot was moving to the other side of the bed, climbing out and away from him. “I trusted you with everything.”
“I will not say a word to anyone on this.”
“But you are judging me.”
“No.” Silvester sat up, all his happy whirling emotions from when they’d made love were still coursing through his body, and it was making him slower than he’d like. “Please listen.”
Margot stopped and watched him, a frown between her brows, looking as if she would like nothing more than to run away.
