“Pity,” he said. “I would much prefer a harlot in my bedroom. Or the old distillery,” he amended.
He covered her hands with his, a tender touch, and something he’d never done. Nor had he ever lifted her hand and kissed her palm, sending a spear of heat to her core.
The maid placed Montgomery’s meal on the table beside the door and spoke to Ralston for a moment. Tom made a comment, Ralston answered him, all commonplace sounds, and all of them an intrusion on the moment.
She wanted, almost desperately, to be alone with her husband. From the glint in his eye, Montgomery felt the same.
“Ralston,” he said suddenly, turning to the older man, “I’ve an errand for you.” He left her, went to his worktable, and took a piece of paper from it. “Take this list to Mr. Kerr. It’s supplies I need to replenish.” He glanced over at Tom. “Take Tom with you.”
The older man, bless his instinct for tact, didn’t ask one question. All he did was incline his head, nod slightly, then gesture toward Tom. In moments, the two men were gone.
He turned toward Veronica once more.
She brushed her hands against her apron, smiling quizzically at him as he approached.
“Where did you send my helper?” she asked.
“To perdition for the moment,” he said, reaching her. Slowly, he untied the leather apron, allowing it to fall to the dirt floor.
She tilted her head, a look appearing in her eyes that fascinated him: curiosity, delight, excitement, and perhaps a little doubt.
“I’m hungry,” he said softly.
“Are you?”
She looked toward the door, which Ralston, bless the man’s intuitive heart, had had the sense to close.
“Mrs. Brody has sent a tray,” she said faintly.
“What Mrs. Brody sent is not what I’m hungry for,” he said, his lips curving in a smile.
“Oh?”
Veronica took one cautionary step away from him, but he remedied that by simply gripping her wrist and gently pulling her toward him.
She cleared her throat. “In the distillery, Montgomery?”
“I’ve been thinking of possible places,” he said. “Not on the ground. There’s the pile of shavings, of course. I doubt we’d be able to return to the house in any sort of order if we used them as a mattress. You might get splinters on your delectable bottom from the worktable. Unless, of course, I fuck you fully clothed.”
She looked away, her face delightfully flushed.
He began unfastening her bodice. “I like this dress,” he said, his gaze fixed on the row of buttons. The fabric was royal blue, but the white piping on the cuffs and collar rendered it pretty rather than plain. “Is this one of your new dresses?”
She nodded, looking down at his hands.
“Do you have any new shifts?”
She nodded again, catching her bottom lip with her teeth.
“A few dozen, I hope,” he said, spreading the bodice open. A delicate pink bow held her shift closed. A gentle tug, and it was open.
He rubbed his knuckles over her fully erect nipples, pleased at the sight of her breasts plumped up by the corset. He bent hishead, trailed his tongue across one nipple, smiling at the sound of her gasp.
She was always so damn responsive.
With one hand, he grabbed the hem of her skirt, raised it, and slid a hand through the froth of her petticoat.
“Thank God you didn’t wear a hoop,” he said, his lips against her heated cheek.
