How to Marry a Marble Marquis(35)

His recovery was swift, but his spine was stiff as he offered his arm. “Yes, of course, my dear. Where are my manners? Let me escort you back to your room.”

When she was snug beneath the plush feather-stuffed bedclothes, she allowed herself, at last, to take a breath. That had gone exactly as she’d hoped. She’d kept control, reminded him that his lessons would end soon and that she’d be applying her newfound knowledge on another lord who was not him, perhaps had even picked up a new skill. Silas Stride was merely an accompaniment on the road to getting what she needed, and it was good to remind him of that.

So then, why did she feel so hollow? Eleanor closed her eyes, pushing the thought away, determined to go to sleep. It was far earlier than she normally retired for the night, but she hadn’t lied. She was exhausted, and the mere thought of the week before her and this continued manipulation made her head heavy. He’s the one who decided the way this would work. All you’re doing is following his lead. A fair point, a true point . . . but as she drifted towards an uneasy sleep, the thought of his furrowed brow twisted her stomach as she sunk into oblivion.





Silas





The second evening, when he woke at dusk at the top of the moon chapel, he was surprised to find her there. She was sitting a short distance away, within his line of sight, perched on the back of a nearly unrecognizable gargoyle, between him and the edge of the moon chapel. Silas thought her placement seemed deliberate.

“Miss Eastwick. Fancy meeting you here. Again.” Her cheeks flushed, the same adorable little blush he had been bringing to her face since the very first night they’d met, but that evening it was hard to take pleasure in the sight.

She had pleasured him with her hands the night before, stroking his cock and squeezing his knot until he had come all over her dainty hands. She had tasted his seed, and the thought of her on her knees before him — her beautiful tits on display, her rosebud lips wrapped around his shaft, suckling his cock tip while her tongue worked over his ridges — nearly made him dizzy. It should have been an enjoyable time spent. After all, he had achieved completion, and she had learned a new skill. But throughout, she kept mentioning the other noblemen upon whose prodigious members she might lavish the same attention, and something had begun to twist in his chest. You’re in danger of apoplexy. You have been all month. You ought to see a physician and find out if there’s something wrong with you. By the time he had retreated to his study after depositing her at her door, pouring himself several fingers of brandy as he began to pace, he felt sick.

When he was agitated, he paced. It was a habit he shared with his brother, both of them learning it from their father. When they were children, Maris said she could always tell when he had done something wrong because he would pace in panic afterward, waiting to see if he would get caught. The length of his study was insufficiently satisfying, but he’d been loath to venture anywhere else in his current state of mind and decided the best course of action for his entire household was to contain his black mood. He hadn’t stopped pacing until it was time to retake his perch at dawn, and now, the following night, she was here again, and he didn’t feel any better about the situation.

“It’s so peaceful up here. I can understand why you have chosen this place to rest, my lord.”

Silas shrugged. It was easy to slip back into his icy, disaffected mask. Everyone wore a mask in the peerage, and it did not matter if one was a human or a member of the bête monde. Armor was a necessity. Armor around his true self, around those he held dear, armor around his heart. He didn’t especially like having to don it in his own home, especially in the privacy of his perch, but he felt oddly trapped. “The moon chapel was built expressly for this purpose. It has unfettered access to the sun, what little sun we get up here, and it is secluded enough that I can rest without disturbance. Normally.”

She had the grace to flush again, that delectable little lip trapping between her teeth. “My apologies, my lord. I-I didn’t realize I was intruding —“

“It’s all right, Miss Eastwick.” His voice softened nearly without his approval, and her eyes flickered up to his. The previous evening had left him feeling discomfited, but he was willing to put it behind them both if they could get back to that place of softness they had previously enjoyed. “A gargoyle guards the privacy and safety of his perch jealously, but I don’t mind you being here. Although, that is my great great uncle Aloysius you’re sitting on.”

Silas bit back a laugh as she leapt off the lump of stone with a yelp.

“I - I brought your clothes,” she choked out once she’d recovered. I noticed last night you only wore a Banyan and . . . I didn’t realize that you slept bare, my lord. I apologize for impugning your privacy.”

She was red from the top of her ears to the tip of her adorably kissable nose, and he decided to play with her a bit further. Raising his arms over his head, Silas arched his back, holding onto the top of his stone throne to stretch, wings unfurling. He had a leg over one of the throne’s arms, a juvenile way to sleep, perhaps, but it was what he found comfortable. At the moment, it also came with the benefit of putting his cock on display for her eyes.

“It’s quite alright, my dear. And yes, unfortunately, the act of hardening the stone is not the best for delicate fabrics. Which, again, is why most gargoyles will guard the privacy of their sleeping perch quite viciously.” She was approaching him slowly, on tiptoes, until she was near enough for him to extend an arm, hooking it around her waist and pulling her to his lap. She acquiesced without protest, and he wondered if the previous night was merely a blip for them both.