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 moved from 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.

"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 deep desire. 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 to the 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… to care 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.

"It caught me by surprise. But it is no more a reflection on you than it is on Pip. It took me too long to realise this about my brother, but I will not make the same mistake with you."

Her frown vanished and she moved forward softly, cautiously, until she had reached his side of the bed. "Are you certain?"

He nodded, watching her, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he felt relieved.

"I wanted to tell you sooner," she said. "Truly I did, but it was not entirely my secret to tell… And then…"

Soothingly, Silvester's hands moved up and down her back as he held her tightly, waiting for her uneven breathing to relax and return to normal. Waiting until she seemed calm. This embrace was not a heightened sexual or even sensual act, nor one laden with any innuendo, but there was a reassurance to the embrace, one of ease, something that Silvester had not expected to feel, but there it was. She was still Margot, his Amazon, and something as insignificant as her parentage when compared to everything else was unimportant. This idea brought a soft smile to his lips and suddenly he had to get out of this chamber and on to a bigger distraction, because if they stayed for too long like this, he'd go mad.

"Let's get you back to Bolton Street. Mrs. Bowley has been worried, and I am certain she will want to hear that I have not kidnapped you, see you safely restored, etcetera, etcetera."

This abrupt movement and speech uttered after such closeness made Margot look a little startled, but she nodded in agreement. So, she turned away and set about righting her dress and dishevelled hair, which had been entirely rumpled.

Silvester followed suit, trying to make his movements and remarks familiar to match his previous experience. But there was a difference, he knew this instinctively, and that fact made him uncomfortable.

"Are you ready?"

She certainly appeared to be. All her earlier wanton abandon had vanished now she was neatened.

Offering her his arm with as much stately grandeur as he could, Silvester escorted her down through his brother's house and outside to the waiting carriage. It was still early, and the area of Bloomsbury not as fashionable as she was used to, so the risk to her reputation was minimal. Once she was inside the vehicle, Silvester turned back to his waiting brother who stood on the steps watching.

"Any bill to send to me?" Silvester stepped closer. He did not want to make a scene, to drag this out in any way, and yet he wanted Pip to know how grateful he was for the care that had been given to Margot.

"There is no charge for family," Pip said, his expression clouded but unreadable. Silvester realised in the cold light of day that he did not wish to know what his younger brother was thinking. Some emotions were too great, too overwhelming to piece together in public, and in private they would be all-consuming. "But you are both welcome to call round. No emergencies are needed for that call."

Unable to acknowledge the idea of making a social call in the future, Silvester just nodded briskly and hurried off to the carriage. It rattled away, and he was grateful for the companionable silence in which Margot and he sat for the short journey across Town to Bolton Street. With instructions given to the driver, they were taken around to the rear of the properties and disembarked at the stable entryway.

"I will see you inside, if only to see Mrs. Bowley's face, and reassure her." Silvester made his comment lightly, but the truth was he was loath to let her go. He took hold of Margot's arm and ushered her through the stables, and then onwards through Ashmore's gardens. The idea of her murdered father and the horror of witnessing that reared its head again, and Silvester marvelled at the strength she had shown in charging after the attacker and confronting him.

They reached the edge of the steps, and Margot was about to start her ascent upwards, when she gasped and pointed out towards a small outcropping of shadowy trees. There was a man sprawled there, bloody and beaten. Silvester dropped her arm and rushed towards the injured man. As he drew nearer and dropped to his knees beside the body, the familiar garb of the man reared its head once more. Silvester knew as he turned the man over into the sunlight that this was the intruder, the murderer, returned it seemed to the scene of his first crime.

"Oh, my lord." Margot had come to stand close behind him, her voice weak as she gazed down over his shoulder at the sprawled attacker. She reached out and touched Silvester tentatively. "Can you tell if he is dead?"

For a moment, Silvester hoped the man might be. That, he thought brutally, would at least resolve the matter once and for all.