“Is that what it’s called these days? Looking for the ring?” But Penelope only laughed and then pretended to appear innocent. “And that’s a wonderful excuse for Rockingham to remain rather than depart with Mr. Kirkley tomorrow morning, if I say so myself. He is staying, isn’t he? I think you would look far less like the cat that got the canary if he was leaving.”
Margaret exhaled loudly and slipped her arms into her dressing gown. “It is a good idea, isn’t it? But you cannot tell my brother! So help me, Penelope, if you do, I will never speak to you again. Hugh is already beside himself with mistrust of Sebastian’s family—"
“Sebastian, now, is it?”
“I’m not joking. It would be a disaster. Do you want Hugh to challenge Rockingham to a duel?” Because although the practice was outlawed, her brother could be just that stubborn sometimes.
At last, she seemed to have Penelope’s serious attention. “Actually, I would not,” she admitted. “Very well.” She reached over to take something off of the nearby vanity and handed it to Margaret. The bottle of perfume she’d brought to her before. “Don’t forget to put some between your breasts.” She backed toward the doorway. “And good luck with, ah, what did you call it? Oh, yes… finding the ring.”
“Penelope?” Margaret stopped her.
Penelope merely tilted her head in question.
“Which room… er… did Lord Rockingham end up in?” She would not, under no circumstances, whatsoever, mistakenly enter the wrong chamber.
Penelope laughed. “The north southerly-facing Spanish room.”
“You are certain?”
“One hundred percent.” And with a rather large grin, Penelope stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind her.
Well then. One less thing for Margaret to worry over.
22
The Proper Chamber
“You came.” Sebastian pulled Margaret into the room and into his arms at the same time he closed the door behind her. As his lips slammed against hers, she found herself melting but at the same time coming to life all over again. This was why she was here.
This man.
“Damn, woman, you took long enough,” he muttered against her lips as he dragged her to the large bed in the center of the room.
“I had to have a bath.” She tilted her head back. “Penelope visited my chamber.”
His lips traveled down her throat. “Hush. I’m still imagining you in the bath, all warm and wet and naked.”
Speaking of naked… Margaret slid her hands inside of his dressing gown. She’d touched his skin like this that first night but not since. She pushed the silk banyan off his shoulders at the same time he maneuvered her gown over her head. Skin against skin.
Better than the most luxurious silk bedding.
She’d had ideas, and he’d even told her that he would make love to her in all manner of position and method, but she had not been certain until he’d touched her again.
Laying together on the mattress now, he slowed their kiss and pulled back. “What do you want, Margaret? Tell me what you want.”
The question surprised her. She had already, hadn’t she? “You.”
She stared up at his face, admiring his features in the glow of the candlelight, and he grinned, looking youthful but beautiful and oh, so sensual.
“Yes.” His hand trailed along the line of her hip. “But tell me more specifically.”
He wanted her to tell him? “You mean?” She could hardly allow herself to imagine some scenarios in her head, let alone have them cross her lips.
“I mean, yes.” He leaned closer. “I want to hear the words on your lips.”
Oh. Could she? It wasn’t proper…
“I want to put you in my mouth.” She was done with being proper!
