Chapter 34 Margot
34
Margot
“You love me?” Margot stammers. She grips Gloom Stalker’s neck, her fingers digging into the metal brackets along its pseudo-mane. Her heart is surely pounding louder than the mechanical steed’s hoofbeats had been a few seconds ago.
“Yes,” Yael says quickly. Their eyes dart to Margot’s and then away. “I’m sorry.”
She dares to hope they’re not sorry for loving her. Or for being there when the town needed them. Or for coming back to her. Or—most important—for saying the words she’s been too afraid to let herself think out loud. “You’re sorry? Why?”
Yael runs a hand through their hair, sending dust into a cloud around them. “Well, I’m sorry for dropping it on you like this, of course. While we’re astride our steeds, and while I’m once again covered in road dust. I should’ve cleaned up a bit, at least.” They shrug—a helplessly adorable gesture that makes Margot’s heart kick in her chest.
“I don’t have a tub, so that’s hardly your fault.”
“Even so, I’d imagined telling you somewhere more romantic. Say that was the case…What would your reply have been?”
Margot bites her lip, torn for the tiniest of seconds between wanting to keep Yael waiting and wanting to put them out of their misery. At the hopeful, desperate look on their face, she relents. With a thumb on the steering switch, she brings Gloom Stalker closer to Sweet Wind so her leg presses against Yael’s.
“I would say…” Margot leans over, taking Yael’s sleeve in her hand. She runs her fingers over the rough fabric, feeling the bones of their wrist beneath her hand. Suddenly shy, she looks up at them through her eyelashes. Some part of her is absolutely terrified to tell Yael how she feels, though another part knows that trusting Yael with her feelings will be the bravest, most wonderful, most freeing thing she’s ever done. But how to say it best?
Should she tell them the seeds of her affection were sown on that first night in Clementine’s Tavern, but now, like a plant that’s been watered and nurtured, her fondness for them has grown strong until it towers over her, a wild, living, thriving thing? Suddenly, a mere declaration of love feels smaller than whatever has bloomed between them. She’s wanted to say the words for weeks now. And if she doesn’t say them, this plant will not thrive the way she knows it can.
She circles their wrist with her fingers to gather her courage. “I love you too.”
Yael’s breath hitches. “You do?”
“Fiercely and entirely.”
Yael slumps forward in the saddle in relief. “Oh, that is such good news.”
If she weren’t in the saddle of a mechanical steed, she’d lean over and kiss them. But doing so would likely land her in a heap on the ground. “Now that we’ve agreed, can we please get off these damn horses?”
Yael sits up at once, a wicked, hungry smile on their lips. “My thoughts exactly. Shall we go back to the cottage?”
Margot’s pulse races at the look on their face. “I have a better spot in mind.”
“Better than your mattress?”
“Yes. Follow me.”
They ride down the road and into the woods beyond Margot’s cottage. The trail snakes back and forth for a bit, and at a towering pine tree, Margot stops her mechanical steed.
“You’ve brought me to some…trees?” Yael surmises.
“So much more. Please, follow me.”
“Anywhere,” Yael agrees.
Margot slides from her steed and steps off the path, and Yael follows, asking no questions as she leads them through tangled underbrush that tears at Margot’s skirts. They don’t even complain when Margot accidentally releases a sapling’s branch too soon, and it whips backward into their face.
“We’re almost there,” she promises as the woods begin to thin. The sound of water running over rills fills the air.
She’s never brought anyone here before. It’s her most secret spot.
She peels back a curtain of moss.
“It’s incredible,” Yael whispers.
It really is. With satisfaction, Margot surveys the scene in front of her. A waterfall tumbles down a towering boulder, casting a lacy spray over the pool below. All around the pool, tall willows bend their long, waving branches. Oaks hung with moss stand a bit off from the banks, and at the feet of the trees, a dozen varieties of mushrooms cover the ground. There’s a thicket of pink and yellow roses on one side of the stream, mingling with a dense raspberry bush. Flowers of all shades—purple wisterias, pink hyacinths, blue and black tulips, yellow dahlias, and white and yellow daisies—grow along the stream.
“Are these strawberries?” Yael asks, bending over to pick the small fruit at their feet.
“Yes,” Margot says proudly.
“But how do they grow here with so much shade?”
“Magic.” Margot smiles. “I’ve been working on this spot since I was a little girl. Granny Fern gave it to me to cultivate, and for many years I’ve been bringing plants from the greenhouses and putting them in the earth, seeing if they would take to it. Nurturing them with spellwork and good care. I couldn’t bring myself to suggest that we hold Rastanaya’s show here or to tell anyone about it.”
“It’s wonderful.” Yael plucks a tiny red berry and holds it out to Margot.
Her lips encircle the berry as she takes it from Yael’s fingertips. She chews and swallows as Yael picks another for themself. It’s a quick thing after that to cup Yael’s cheek. To lean in closer, pressing the softest of kisses to Yael’s berry-stained lips. To take their bottom lip in her teeth and pull on it gently. To deepen their kiss.
“Oh, Daisy,” Yael murmurs as their hands twine in Margot’s hair.
“Yes, love,” she whispers back. It feels so good to finally have the word between them. She loves Yael Clauneck. Somehow, impossibly, entirely, and completely. She loves Yael Clauneck.
Yael doesn’t say anything else, just kisses her more fiercely. Their hands fumble for the lacings of Margot’s dress even as she slips her own hands under their shirt. Her fingers slide along the dip in their waist, moving lower. Yael’s hands grow more insistent, and Margot’s dress falls away from her shoulders. Yael’s shirt follows, and Margot slides her dress off her shoulders and down her hips, letting it fall to the ground at her feet so she’s fully naked.
“You are so lovely, Margot Greenwillow,” Yael says, stopping the process of removing their shoes for a moment. Admiration lights their eyes as they look her over.
She basks in their attention, feeling a bit like a plant goddess surrounded by her kingdom. Then a yellow leaf falls from one of the trees above her, breaking the spell.
Flashing a smile at Yael, she steps off the bank and into the pool. It’s still warm from the day’s heat, though there’s a coolness rising from the depths. Yael follows her a second later, plunging into the pool with a splash. They submerge under the water, and Margot’s heart soars as she feels hands wrap around her waist.
“Hello,” Yael says as they surface. Water droplets sparkle in their long, dark eyelashes. They pull Margot closer.
“This way,” she says, wriggling loose and swimming toward the waterfall. She slips behind it, pulling gently on Yael’s hand.
They emerge together behind the falls in a hidden pool. There’s a small rock seat, and the curtain of falling water makes a cocoon around them.
“This is magical,” Yael whispers, looking about.
Behind them, the waterfall catches the afternoon light, casting prisms of color across Yael’s skin.
“My favorite spot in my favorite place in the world,” Margot says, settling onto the stone seat. “I almost took you here when we were small. I wished you might kiss me,” she admits, “though we definitely weren’t naked in that daydream.”
“I’m glad we made it at last.” Yael sits next to Margot, their thighs flush against hers. “Especially as I don’t plan to be quiet this time.” Yael leans over to trace the line of Margot’s clavicle with one finger.
This time. For a moment, their stolen intimacy on the Clauneck balcony during the masquerade rises in Margot’s mind. The urgency of it, the heat of it, the bitter resolution of the moment as Yael walked away from her…
Then all of that’s gone as the present comes rushing in. The noise of the waterfall drowns everything out as Yael’s lips burn a line along Margot’s neck. She arches her head back, letting it rest against a moss-covered rock on the side of the pool. Yael shifts closer, each kiss teasing and devastatingly slow as they move from the swoop of her neck to feather kisses along her jaw. They bury their fingers in her hair, turning her face toward theirs as they kiss the side of her mouth.
Their eyes catch Margot’s, dangerous and molten, even as the waterfall’s spray haloes them.
“Yael,” Margot breathes.
The rest of her words are lost in Yael’s mouth as they capture her lower lip. For the first time since they met again in Clementine’s Tavern half a year ago, Margot feels truly free. She’s not hiding anything from Yael. It’s not her responsibility to save Bloomfield. All she has to do in this moment is let herself be loved by Yael Clauneck, and it is the most wonderful feeling in all the world.
She reaches over, pulling Yael into her lap. Their legs slip around her hips, Margot’s breasts pressed to Yael’s chest. Their kissing becomes more insistent, and Margot is all need, bone melting and desperate.
Yael’s hair frames their faces as their kiss deepens. Margot shifts on the rock so her fingers can move along their thighs.
“I can do that too,” Yael murmurs against her mouth, breaking the kiss.
“Show me.” Even as she says it, Margot slips her hand up their leg, letting one thumb graze Yael’s center.
They moan, the noise nearly undoing Margot.
“With pleasure,” Yael murmurs. They cup her breasts in their hands as they lean down to take one of her nipples into their mouth. Their tongue traces a circle around it, and heat floods through Margot’s whole body.
Then, as Margot’s fingers find their way into Yael, they match her move for move. Each touch bringing her closer. Each kiss pushing her toward the edge. Yael’s skilled fingers working her with intent and good care.
She falls without warning, and a cry of pleasure. Yael tumbles with her a moment later, their body pressed against her hand, gasping, her name on their lips.
“I love you,” Margot says as Yael collapses into her. She wants to say it again and again, to shout the words to the world. Instead, she kisses Yael’s earlobe, letting herself relax into the comforting shape of their body against hers.
“I love you, Daisy,” Yael manages, stealing another kiss. “And I love this.”
Margot looks at Yael as the waterfall pounds the stone all around them. “Shall we do it again, then?”
“Always and forever,” Yael says, their voice far more serious than the wicked gleam in their eyes.
When they leave the hidden grotto several climaxes apiece later, the sun is setting. They dress themselves and make their way back to their mechanical steeds, Margot twining her fingers through Yael’s. “Ready to go?”
“To your cottage?” Yael asks hopefully.
“To our cottage.”
“I’d like nothing better,” Yael says, kissing her again before they mount their steeds and ride toward home.