She reached out with both hands and gripped the material of his shirt. Her fingers scraped against his fabric-covered skin. She wanted to feel him, feel her skin against his, the friction of damp flesh against damp flesh. She wanted him inside her, bringing her release, coupling with her in a dance of pleasure and passion.
If she were playing the harlot, she should excel at her role. She stepped back, took his hand, and led the way to her bed. She stripped off the nightgown, extinguished the lamp, and slid beneath the covers, reaching for him.
In seconds, Montgomery was naked and joining her.
She trembled when he touched her, reached out a hand and closed it over his hard length and guided it to her wetness. If it were possible to need too much, then she did. She wanted the connection, ached for the pleasure.
He drove into her. Her body, pierced by pleasure, arched in response. Her fingers clenched on his shoulders before reaching down to grip his hips.
Her skin was slick, her heart pounding. She wanted to experience it all, the feel of Montgomery, the wildness of his passion, the strength of his body, the sound he made when his head arched back, and his face tightened.
They were separate people, each strangers to the other. They came together in passion, though, didn’t they? If that was the only way they could communicate, then so be it.
It would do for the moment.
Chapter 19
Montgomery may have answered some of her questions, but two remained uppermost in Veronica’s mind. Who was Caroline and did Montgomery still grieve for her?
Nor had his response about leaving Scotland appeased her.I don’t know.Hardly a satisfactory answer.
She hadn’t lied to him; she didn’t want to go to America.
She could close her eyes and hear the timbre of the speech of the maids and know herself home, feeling a closeness to her parents she hadn’t felt in London. The sheer beauty of the mountains surrounding Doncaster Hall and the undulating flocks of sheep declared her in the Highlands, and this was where she wanted to stay.
A borrowed Scot, that’s what Mr. Kerr had called Montgomery. Did the solicitor know something she didn’t? Had Montgomery been more candid with him? He’d professed to know nothing in London, but had something changed once Montgomery reached Doncaster Hall?
“Lady Fairfax.”
She nearly jumped at the sound of the solicitor’s voice.
“Mr. Kerr,” she said, placing her hand flat against her chest. “You frightened me.” Especially since she’d just been thinking of the man.
“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, it was not my intent.”
The solicitor stood at the base of the stairs, looking up at her.
Slowly, she descended the steps, halting when she was two steps above him.
“You met His Lordship at the Society of the Mercaii, did you not?”
She nodded. Montgomery’s solicitor must know of the circumstances of their meeting. Did he know the entire story?
“Doncaster Hall is experiencing many temporal disturbances, Lady Fairfax. It’s my intention to attempt to contact the spirits and calm them.”
She descended the next step, coming so close to Mr. Kerr that she could reach out and touch him.
“I didn’t know you had an interest in the occult, Mr. Kerr.”
“I assume, Your Ladyship, by your attendance at the Society, you share my interest.”
She didn’t answer, merely waited for him to continue.
“Would you care to assist me in a gathering?” he asked.
“You’re going to talk to the dead, Mr. Kerr?”
He nodded.
