With a furious gleam in her eye, Margot slapped the front of the clock back in place, abandoning their discovery to stalk nearer to him, stopping so that only a handful of inches separated them. “I can find joy, love, and affection. I simply do not have to cave into any baser instincts on my part. It is you who refuses to let anything ever be worthwhile—it is not me…” She sucked in a breath, her attempts to control the emotions failing as she looked at him. “Every blessing and advantage are yours, and yet you are afraid to feel. At least I can comfort myself with the knowledge I am not as much of a coward.”
The moment of triumph on her face vanished when Langley bent nearer, so that his mouth was a hairsbreadth from hers. The narrowed air between them fizzed and tightened with a desire that Langley doubted even Margot could ignore. Without even touching her he was rock hard. It would be so easy to seal their lips together, to taste the fullness of her mouth, and drown in the luxury of knowing her. His voice was low, and he did not move back when he said, “You can be just as afraid as me, love,in denying what is here between us. That’s a form of cowardice. I for one, do not feel like a coward now. Your inability to treasure true pleasure is a cross you alone must bear. Because I know what you felt at Madam Sandrine’s. You cannot lie to me on that score.”
“Please,” Margot said, and he was not entirely sure what she was asking of him—to leave her here alone, or to press even closer and claim her. But after everything he knew it, she had to make the first move.
“Do you want me to demand that wager you promised me all those weeks ago?” Langley asked, hoping against hope that Margot would not waver and change her mind from the temptation she so clearly wished to succumb to. Seconds dragged by, feeling agonisingly slow.
“You mean when I said I would kiss you?” Desire was clouding her eyes as she looked up at him, her pointed chin angled as she stared at his face.
“That was what we agreed.”
“Hmm.” Her hands came up and held his face. Her touch against his skin was humbling and he knew as much as he wanted her to say yes, the prospect that she might was equally thrilling and overwhelming. The sheer need for Margot blocked out the memory of the other women he had bedded, banishing them from his thoughts, maybe forever. Perhaps that should have worried him, but Langley told himself it was merely a phase. As soon as Margot and he had found their satisfaction, these feelings would pass. “You would tempt a saint, and I never said I was there. Silvester, you are too good at these games of seduction.”
Heaven though it was to hear his name on her lips, he didn’t want her to think this was merely because of the bet, or because of his game playing. Besides, he had hardly even started tryingto seduce her. Margot was too good at seeing through such acts. Anytime he’d tried she’d simply laughed.
He shifted one of her curls behind her ear, tucking it away so he could look into her clear face, examine her handsome features at such a close distance. “It is not a game with you, love.”
She closed the distance between them, wrapping her hands tightly around the back of his neck and kissing him hungrily, as if she were a starving woman. Her mouth was firm and sweet, and when Langley ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she parted them willingly, and he tasted her completely. If a man could be undone by a kiss, one that had started off so willingly but chastely, it suddenly seemed as if it might be him.
Unable to hold back anymore, Langley let his hands fall upon the back of her dress, moulding her form to his, pressing Margot to him as if he needed above all to memorise the shape and feel of her. By the time he was done she would be imprinted on his frame, his mind, God, even his soul—then he would tuck her away within him as easily as he moved that stray strand of her hair. It might not be making love to her, but this might be as close as he could get.
They moved together unevenly, with none of his practised elegance, as if they were youths, scrambling and eager for one another, pulling and loosening each other’s clothes, his suit jacket discarded, and he heard his own shirt rip under the franticness of her hands. When he bent and scooped her up in his arms, he took them both towards the massive guest bed.
CHAPTER 17
Margot had fought against this impulse since the first time she had seen Langley, she knew this as she curved her body closer to his, enjoying the heat that radiated out of his torso through his bared chest and forearms. She had seen his muscled legs previously, but when she had caught sight of his chest, her breath had lodged in her throat at the sight. He put the godly images of the ancient mythical creatures to shame. The shape of him, from his strong, broad shoulders to the muscles of his hands, then to the light dusting of hair that was scattered over his chest, all of him made her want more than ever to lean down and kiss, lick, and taste every inch of him.
So, she did so, placing her lips against the heat and feeling the beat of his heart. She luxuriated in the faint scent of him too—a warm, lemony infused bergamot.
When she raised her head, she saw that one of his dark blond curls hung forward to reach his eyebrow, the dishevelled disarray adding entirely to his masculine appeal. Perhaps almost all women might feel this way in his presence—a sensory pull, an undeniable allure of his because of his perfect beauty—but Margot knew it was not merely the physical that bound them together.
She kissed his lips again, enjoying the light scratch of his whiskers brushing against her skin. This was what she wanted, a truth she had denied for too long, told herself again and again that she would be able to walk away from Langley without… without knowing this desired thing. Now of course, Margot thought the experience would be richer than simply a skin-deep need for him. This moment, this shared occurrence would be a memory she could cling to when they were inevitably parted. She would be able to keep this tiny aspect of him.
Now she knew Langley, knew his ability to tease, his humour, his wit, and sharpness, but also what he tried to keep hidden since they did not aid his image. What had kept her waiting, hesitating was gone, because in this unknown, often dangerous world, with him Margot realised her own truth—he made her feel safe.
Langley paused, his gaze considering her, keen to know all, to know that she wanted him. He would stop, she knew, if she asked him to, and that made her more determined than ever to say yes. Besides it wasn’t giving in to him. No, it was more that she was giving in to her own desires.
With a nod, she pressed her forehead against his and kissed him again, a gentle, soft touch conveying everything she could not quite muster up. “Langley?—”
“Tonight, call me Silvester, as you just did. I like to hear it on your lips.”
Perhaps he requested that of all his lovers, but this request moved Margot despite everything, and she nodded. “Very well.”
He lowered her onto the bed. When his hands left her Margot let out a moan of dismay, which made Silvester smile.
His gaze was intense as he took in her loosened evening dress. There was a heated lust emanating from him that Margot basked in—feeling that level of being wanted, needed, and desired. She had become used to Silvester amusing himselfwith the tales of his seduction, but to be faced with it was a thrilling sensation, one Margot felt to her core. There was no going back to her former innocent after that interlude in Madam Sandrine’s, when she’d balanced on his shoulders, and he’d licked at her until she’d found her completion. This had taught Margot what to expect, so she felt she knew a little more of what would occur between the two of them. It thrilled her far more than it scared her.
The previous attempt of his to dislodge her gown had been more elegant than hers on his garments, and the frenzy she had committed in order to remove his clothes had been successful in comparison to his, since most of her dress still hung to Margot.
“Roll over,” he said.
Margot did as he suggested, turning on her stomach as he unbuttoned the back of her dress, each movement tantalising and soft, alighting on her body. She could hear his breathing as he worked, and there was a tremble to his fingers indicating his excitement.
“Lift your hips.” His voice was husky, almost rough, and the tone seemed designed to rub against her skin as if that too could seduce her as easily as his hands could. “There.” He eased the dress down and over her hips and Margot heard the material hit the floor. She was stilled clothed in her shift and drawers and when she rolled over it was to find Silvester lowering himself onto the coverlet next to her.
His gleaming eyes met hers, and unable to help herself, she smiled at him, the rest of the world vanishing when it was just the pair of them here together. Nothing else mattered tonight, just the two of them—the memory of it would crystallise in her heart over the following years, staying with her when he was long gone.
Leaning over her, Silvester idly caught her mouth with a slow, languid kiss that caused Margot to feel like she was driftingaway on a wave of sensation. Alive to the feelings he always inspired in her. Kisses that teased and enticed her wits, from the softness of brushes against her mouth to the teasing taste of his tongue—all awareness was focused on her face, but the waves of emotion were sweeping over the rest of her too. Whilst he kissed her, his hand danced down the front of her shift, lowering the material until it gaped and revealed her breasts.
