Chapter 22 Margot
22
Margot
Yael’s words burn into Margot, a wildfire setting everything in its path alight. It’s the truth, laid out plainly and painfully clear. It’s so simple, it takes her breath away.
But it’s not enough. If Yael goes back to the cottage with her, that means she’s out of time, out of chances, and everyone in Bloomfield will be evicted. The cottage and greenhouses taken. All that Fern, Margot, and the people in the village have built and grown will be gone.
Margot wants to weep, but instead, she closes her eyes against all the wanting, the knowing, the lies she’s told, and the truths she knows. For just a moment, she pushes it all down and lets herself look at Yael.
A warm breeze rustles the flowering vines on the trellis behind her, perfuming the air with the soft scent of jasmine. The hum of voices and the music from the string quintet on the terrace below their balcony floats upward, but in front of her it’s only Yael, outlined in the hyacinth twilight, magnificent in their suit and ram’s horn mask. A half smile quirks their gold-painted lips as their hair ruffles in the night air.
They are so lovely, so bold, so different than she ever expected them to be. Margot aches to tell them this and so much more.
“Yael,” she whispers, her voice catching in her throat. “I…” She swallows hard as desire wars with despair.
She wants Yael. That’s it. That’s all. But how can they ever be together? Life in Ashaway would be a misery for Yael—and likely for herself as well. Yet if they leave the city, they doom the village; there will be no second extension from the Claunecks, no further grace as she struggles to figure out the impossible Natural Caster Potion she isn’t close to finishing, despite all her promises, in the next few months. Margot doubts that Menorath and Baremon will even wait out the summer remaining on their deal if she disappoints them. But if she convinces Yael to stay, they doom themselves to a future under the thumb of the Claunecks all the same. She cannot ask that of Yael, and she cannot trick them into it. Not when she…
But that’s too much to consider at this moment as the twilight shimmers off the golden paint on Yael’s slightly parted lips.
Gods help her, she wants Yael Clauneck right here on this balcony.
Forcing herself to take a slow breath, Margot runs a hand over the Claunecks’ letter she’s carried with her for three or so years, currently tucked inside a hidden pocket in her skirt to keep it safe and to keep herself from forgetting why she came here. Across from her, Yael leans against the balustrade, clearly aiming for casual, but tension is written in the line of their shoulders. In how they cross and uncross their feet at the ankle. In the way their gaze darts away from Margot’s as she tries to meet it.
She exhales sharply. “Yael, I want…”
To say yes to you, and to have a life together.
But admitting that means destroying the lives of so many people she cares about.
The better part of me would be happier in a cottage in the woods with you for as long as you’ll have me there.
It can never happen, but in this one moment, she will let herself pretend they can have a happily ever after together. After all, how much time can they have left? She should make every minute count.
Margot lifts a hand to Yael’s face, reaching up to tenderly cup their jaw beneath the mask. She tries again. “I…” She hesitates, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
But she allows the silence to stretch a beat too long. Yael turns away, their shoulders slumping. They shrug and slip their hands into their pockets. “Don’t answer now, Daisy. Please. Truly. It’s just that I wanted you to know—”
“Yael?” She grips their elbow, turning them back toward her.
“Yes?” The word is so tentative, so hopeful. It breaks Margot’s heart as it hangs in the air between them. She takes Yael’s hand and bends so her lips are right beside Yael’s golden ones.
“I would have you there,” she says, putting all her hopes into the words, even if they are foolish. Even if it cannot happen, Yael should at least know her heart. “In my cottage, always. But—”
“Daisy,” Yael interrupts. Their eyes are dark pools within the ram’s head mask.
“Yes?”
“Have I told you how very lovely you look in this dress?” Yael’s hands lightly grip her waist, pressing her against their body, tracing the lines of her bodice as they kiss her again.
A whip of desire, hot, hungry, and demanding, licks through Margot’s bloodstream. Letting her fingers trail along Yael’s shoulders, she releases her worries, her impending heartbreak, the crushing weight of her responsibilities, and allows herself to sink fully into the moment. “Tell me again…”
“You—” A golden kiss lands on Margot’s collarbone. “Are—” Another kiss at the hollow of her throat. “Magnificent—” Another kiss where her jaw meets her neck. “In—” One more kiss on the edge of her mouth. “This—”
Before Yael can kiss her again, one of their horns knocks against Margot’s cheekbone. A small, surprised exclamation slips past her lips.
“Oh gods.” Yael pulls away. “This damn mask. I’m sorry.” They fumble for the ribbons holding it together behind their head.
“Wait. You didn’t do any damage.”
“I’m grateful I didn’t spear your eye out or something.”
Margot scoffs at that. “I am unscathed, except for the kisses you’ve marked me with.”
Yael swears again, starting to rub at the gleaming trail painted above her breasts.
But Margot grabs their wrist. “Leave them. I’ll wear them with pride. Now turn around.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, please.”
Yael shoots her a smirk over their shoulder and turns. “As you insist.”
“Thank you.” Margot takes a step backward, her hand at Yael’s waist, pulling them into her body. As they fit together, Yael’s back to Margot’s curves, they take another step backward. And one more. When Margot’s firmly pressed against the jasmine-covered stone wall of the manor, she slips a finger under Yael’s mask strings, untying the knot. The ram’s disguise tumbles to the ground, joining Margot’s discarded mask on the balcony floor.
“Are you undressing me in my parents’ house, Daisy?” Yael’s voice is husky, a touch playful, with an edge of need woven through it. The words send a shiver down Margot’s spine. She would like nothing more than to undress them right here and have them on this balcony.
“Perhaps.” Margot rests a hand on Yael’s waist, pulling them closer to her chest. The silk of their jacket brushes against her bare skin, and she melts with longing. She isn’t thinking about the party below or Yael’s fine words. Or the life they will never make for themselves in Bloomfield. All she’s thinking about is the desperate need racing through her veins.
“You wicked thing,” Yael murmurs as Margot whispers a kiss above the collar of Yael’s shirt. They taste like the night, with a hint of their own scent that makes Margot feel drunk. She drags her lips up the nape of their neck.
She feels so very wicked, and so very hungry. “I can’t help it. You’re delicious…” She pulls Yael even closer, nibbling lightly on their earlobe.
Yael lets out a low moan, full of wanting. That noise undoes Margot, and she’s suddenly desperate to touch Yael. To feel them under her hands. To taste them…
“Daisy…” Yael gasps as Margot’s hand snakes around to the front of Yael’s jacket. “As much as I love this, I thought we agreed to not ruin your dress until after the party.”
“My dress will survive us.” She unbuttons their pants, slipping a hand past the waistline and letting her fingers drift below Yael’s silken underwear. Yael’s skin is warm, their stomach muscles taut under her touch.
Margot runs her fingers along the arch of their hip bone, inching closer, ever deliciously closer, to the heat between Yael’s thighs.
Yael inhales sharply as Margot’s fingers slide another inch lower. “What about the people below? They might hear us.” Yael’s words are ragged with wanting.
Margot isn’t worried about the party. “No one will hear us,” she assures Yael, leaning closer so her lips brush Yael’s ear. “Because you are going to be very, very quiet.”
“Daisy…”
“Shhhhhh.”
She moves her hand a bit lower, her thumb hovering so close to Yael’s center, she can feel them tremble. She kisses the corner of their jaw. The side of their mouth. Slowly, oh, so very slowly, she lets her hand slip between their legs. Yael arches to meet her touch.
“Margot—oh gods…”
“Hush,” she reminds them, murmuring in their ear.
Yael nods, leaning into Margot, their need hot and insistent against her hand. Her fingers are strong from years of work in the garden and greenhouses, and she knows how Yael likes to be touched.
She slips one finger, and then two, inside them, using her thumb to carefully, deliberately stroke the small center of their pleasure. Again. Harder now, and more demanding, until Yael is nearly gasping as they push against Margot’s fingers. Yael bites their lip fighting a moan, and heat flashes through Margot. Suddenly, there’s nothing more important than Yael’s pleasure. Nothing more urgent than Margot telling them with her hands and her body how vital they are to her.
She works another finger inside them, deeper this time, pushing hard with the heel of her hand. Yael trembles.
“Daisy, I’m begging you…”
She increases the pressure of her hand, using the other to pull Yael even closer, so their backside grinds right against her own need.
“What are you begging me for?” Another stroke.
Yael makes a strangled noise, squirming under Margot’s touch. “I need you to…oh gods, yes, Daisy, exactly like that…”
She keeps going. “What are you begging me for?” she asks again.
“To let me kiss you…”
“I thought we agreed you were going to be very quiet while I finish you?”
With a whimper, Yael presses themself into Margot’s hand, seeking more pressure, and she works them harder. Their head drops back on Margot’s shoulder as they keep grinding into her fingers. “But, darling,” they manage on the edge of a gasp, “it’s so much more fun when we do this together.”
Margot can’t argue with that. She gives Yael the briefest of reprieves as they turn around so their body is flush against Margot’s. With desperate intention, Yael kisses the valley between Margot’s breasts, sending an ache through her entire being. As Yael slips a hand under her breast, lifting and freeing it from its corset, Margot’s fingers get back to work.
Yael lets another low moan escape them, ragged and even hungrier. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up, Daisy.” Their mouth finds Margot’s nipple, and their tongue traces the edges, nipping at it lightly.
Neither will Margot if Yael continues to attend to her breasts like they’re doing. Yael hasn’t even touched her between her legs yet, and still, she’s drenched with desire. “I know exactly what you mean.” She pulls Yael even closer.
Yael’s lips find hers, and they kiss her urgently, deeply. Margot takes their hand, directing it to where she needs them.
They tug on her bottom lip with their teeth. “How shall I ever get this damn skirt of yours up?”
Margot should’ve insisted upon fewer underskirts or forgone undergarments. Then again, they never should’ve come to the ball in the first place. Why aren’t they back in their room at the Glowing Coin, where such problems are easily solved?
Margot pauses in her work just long enough to lift her skirts. She leans back against the jasmine-covered wall as Yael’s hand snakes beneath her clothing and into the heart of her desire.
Together, they find a rhythm, each of them teasing, pushing, pressing. Margot wraps one silken-stocking covered leg around Yael’s waist, and they gasp.
“Daisy,” Yael moans, arching up to her. “I can’t wait—”
And then they break, their pleasure shattering across Margot’s hand. They shiver as they finish, then their mouth dips to Margot’s breast once more. Their hands move under her skirt, insisting she follows them.
She comes a moment later, riding waves of delight. Her head falls back on the trellis, sending jasmine blossoms raining down around her, and she grips Yael’s hair tightly with both her hands.
“Oh, darling,” Yael murmurs moments later, kissing a path back up her neck. Their lips hover directly above hers as they whisper against her mouth, “I fear neither of us was quiet.”
Margot laughs, giddy with sated desire and the closeness of Yael. “I don’t believe anyone heard us, but if they did, I don’t think I care.”
“I feel the same way entirely.” Their lips sink into Margot’s, drawing her to them again.
When they finally break apart, Margot lets go of her bunched skirts—gods, her dress is wrinkled beyond repair, but she can’t bring herself to give it more than a passing thought. Crushed and fallen jasmine flowers litter the balcony floor. Yael plucks one from her hair, and Margot brushes one from their lapel, pouring tenderness into the gesture.
She loves Yael Clauneck. That’s the other truth she knows, and it is utterly terrible.
“Yael?” she murmurs.
“Yes, Daisy?”
“Let’s get out of here, please? Just for the night? Let’s go back to the Glowing Coin?”
“Why not pack our things and leave the city altogether? I’ve about had my fill of Ashaway, don’t you agree?”
Margot wanted one more night, or at least a few more hours to pretend. But she can’t have that.
It’s time to tell Yael the entire truth.
Straightening herself, she brushes another flower from her sleeve. Reaching into her pocket, Margot hands them the letter.
“What is this?” Yael asks, their eyes running over the Clauneck letterhead. Skimming the words Margot knows so well. “Margot, what is this?” they repeat. They read aloud: “ We are impressed by your generous estimations of your daughter’s talents and intrigued by the Natural Caster Restoration Potion you claim she is close to perfecting. In remembrance of Fern—whose legacy looms large over Harrow and its economy still—we have seen fit to offer an extension on said debts. For a period of four years until that summer’s end, we will delay the seizure of Bloomfield… ”
“It’s from your parents.”
“Obviously. What do they mean? What is this Natural Caster Potion?”
Taking a deep breath for courage, Margot finally tells Yael the full truth. She shares the little she knows about the recipe and why Menorath wants it, and about the Claunecks actually owning her cottage, greenhouses, and the village of Bloomfield. She confesses to her failed attempts to make the impossible Natural Caster Potion, and the four mere months that are left. On the edge of a sob, she also tells Yael about Menorath’s secret message attached to the masquerade invitation, how she persuaded Yael to come back to Ashaway when they didn’t want to, and Menorath’s offer for a permanent pause on the repossession of the greenhouses, cottage, and town if she convinces Yael to remain in Ashaway and rejoin their family.
“And if I refuse?” Yael says tersely.
Margot feels tears fill her eyes. “Then they take Bloomfield. For good.”
When it’s all done, all of it finally out of her and in the open, Margot looks up at Yael as a tear slips down her cheek and says, in a small, broken voice, “I’m so sorry about it all. Not that it really matters, but I’ve been torn and scared and wretched about this for so long. And then you strolled into my life and made everything softer. And lighter, and I loved that so much. And now, even though you know it all, can you possibly forgive me?”