44. Margo

As Margo walked into the cabin, her heart felt as if it was beating too fast in her chest, and her hands felt clammy. If she hadnt known better, she would have feared a health problem, but shed had her annual checkup recently, and everything was great.

Her symptoms were the fault of a six-foot-three alien with blond, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes, and the soul of an angel.

Negal wouldnt agree with her on the last one, but she had seen enough of his beautiful soul to make that assertion. He was a very good person, and she wasnt saying that just because she was falling in love with him.

Good night, Margo. Frankie waved from Dagors arms.

See you in the morning, Dagor said as he carried Frankie into their bedroom.

Good night, Margo said with a smile.

As the door closed behind them, Margo sighed.

It was nice to see Frankie so happy. She and Dagor were so obviously in love, so effortlessly.

If only she could be a little bit like Frankie and not a nervous wreck whose hands shook as she thought about inviting the male she was falling in love with to her bed.

She wasnt a blushing virgin, for goodness’ sake. She was a grown woman.

Inside her bedroom, Margo slipped out of her evening gown and hung it carefully in the closet. The hours of dancing had left her feeling sticky and overheated, and she needed a shower, but what if Negal arrived before she was done?

Frankie and Dagor were probably already tearing each others clothes off so they wouldnt let him in.

She needed to let him know.

Pulling out her phone, she texted him. Im taking a quick shower, so if I dont answer the door, please wait for a few minutes and try again.

His return text arrived a moment later. I was just about to step into the shower as well, so take your time. I will be there in twenty minutes.

Margo sent Negal an emoji of a thumbs up and put the phone on the charger.

A smile ghosted across her lips as she imagined him taking a cold shower to cool down. It hadnt escaped her notice that hed been rock hard when hed massaged her feet, and shed tormented him with the sounds shed made.

Perhaps it hadnt been nice of her, but she needed him in the mood for what she was planning. Not that Negal needed much encouragement to get aroused. Hed even admitted on several occasions that he had trouble controlling his responses to her.

As she stepped into the shower and the warm water cascaded over her skin, Margo imagined it washing away her insecurities.

She was a confident and assertive woman in all ways but one, and it was time she conquered that last frontier and allowed herself to flourish sexually. But a lifetime of reserve and self-doubt was hard to shake off, even in the face of her overwhelming attraction to Negal.

Once she was done washing and scrubbing every inch of her skin, she stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and slipped into the new nightgown and robe hed bought for her.

The silky fabric felt so luxurious against her skin that it was almost decadent. If not for Negals insistence, she never would have splurged on something like that for herself, and even though hed insisted on paying for everything, she made a mental note to calculate just how much she owed him.

Margo was determined to pay him back once she got her first paycheck from her job at Perfect Match.

With a few minutes left to spare, she settled onto the couch and reached for the historical novel shed borrowed from Jasmine. She flipped through the pages, searching for the naughty bits, hoping to find some inspiration or courage from the fictional characters. But as she skimmed the flowery language and period-specific dialogue, Margo found herself more bemused than aroused. Without the context of the full story, the intimate scenes felt disconnected and overly dramatic.

The book painted Lord Alistair as a man of fierce passions and brooding intensity, a warrior whose mere presence could ignite a womans heart with untold desires.

Annabellas breath hitched as she beheld the sight of the rugged Scottish lord. With his broad shoulders straining against his tartan and his eyes as stormy as the Highland skies, Lord Alistair was a vision of masculinity.

Imagining the scene, Margo snorted softly at how ridiculous it sounded.

In the dimly lit stables, their eyes met across the straw-covered floor. Annabella felt a wild stirring within her, an untamed yearning that drew her closer to the brawny lord.

Margo couldnt stifle a laugh. Untamed yearning, really? What does that even mean?

Lord Alistair was overcome by the beauty of the wash girl disguising herself as a lady, and he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Annabella, he growled in a voice that was laden with desire, I ken not what magic ye possess to draw me so.

Margo rolled her eyes and read aloud in a deep voice and a Scottish twang. I ken not what magic ye possess?

As their lips met in a passionate embrace, Annabella melted against the strength of Lord Alistairs embrace, her doubts and fears dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

Shaking her head, Margo closed the book.

The flowery, over-the-top prose was ridiculous, and the two-dimensional characters were not relatable, but there was something endearing about the simplicity and predictability of the story.

Margo could understand Jasmines preference for period romances, but it wasnt her cup of tea. To truly lose herself in the narrative, Margo needed a story with more substance, and more relatable characters and situations, which was kind of funny since she loved reading about shifters and fae, and all sorts of otherworldly beings.

Glancing at the door, Margo thought about the real story unfolding between her and a god, which was much more fantastical than the story of a Scottish lord falling for the beautiful but lowly wash girl and also all the shifter romances she favored.