The idea of going in search of him had been so reasonable, standing in her bedroom. Now, it felt idiotic.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said.
“Thank me?”
His voice was icy, devoid of emotion. How did he do that? How did he bury himself so completely behind his restraint?
“I realized I hadn’t. Thanked you, that is. For believing me.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for marrying me. You saved me from being a poor relation in my uncle’s household. For that, I will be forever grateful.”
He didn’t respond. Perhaps she should kiss him, instead. They’d had no difficulties communicating when they loved each other. Earlier, in that very building, they’d shared an elemental passion.
“You’ve been very kind,” she said, finally, feeling inept and more than a little foolish.
“I haven’t been kind,” he said. “For God’s sake, Veronica, don’t label me with that.”
“Montgomery,” she said, taking a chance, “if you’d share your grief, perhaps the burden of it might be lightened. I know I felt better for telling you about my parents. Grief shared is sometimes more bearable.”
She took a step toward him, then another. “People aren’t meant to feel such pain as you feel, Montgomery.”
“Perhaps pain is payment, Veronica,” he said softly.
“What have you to pay for? What could you have done that is so terrible?”
His hand reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her jaw. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know, Veronica.”
She half expected him to leave her, to stalk away in the darkness, silent, arrogant, immovable. Instead, he took a step toward her, his hands resting on her shoulders. With a gentle tug, he pulled her toward him. She stepped into his embrace, resting her cheek against his chest.
She wrapped her arms around him and curved them to lie flat against his shoulder blades. She was so close she could feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing. If it were possible to do so, she would have inhaled his sorrow, rid him of it, and given it another home in which to live. Anywhere but in Montgomery’s heart.
For long moments, they remained locked together in the darkness, holding one another.
Perhaps she’d been right to seek him out after all.
“You should go,” he said finally, stepping back and releasing her.
“Will you come with me?”
“I have to go over some last-minute preparations. I’m taking the airship up tomorrow.”
“May I go with you?”
“No,” he said. “I’m testing the navigation baffle.”
“Is it dangerous?”
He didn’t answer, only reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Go back to Doncaster Hall,” he said. “It’s chilly, and you’re not dressed for walking at night. I’ll be there when I can.”
She turned and reluctantly left him. The journey back to Doncaster Hall was made easier by the thought Montgomery was within the sound of her voice.
Later, she awakened to the touch of his hands sliding over her skin, long, fluid strokes measuring the curve of her waist, herbreasts. Without a word spoken, he seduced her, bent his head to capture a nipple between his lips, drawing softly.
Her heart opened. Her blood raced. Her body heated. She placed her hands on his hips, raised her head for his kiss, and urged him into her. As dawn lightened the room, they moved together, each seeking comfort, each receiving it.
Her hands slid from his back to fall lax on the mattress. Inside, her body thrummed, a beat fast and sure, echoing pleasure even as it faded. Her heart slowed, and her breath eased, the drawstring around her lungs relaxed.
She cherished the weight of his body against hers.
