She was trembling, her body a furnace gripping him possessively. He was in deeper than he’d ever been. A dozen thrusts, and she was rocking back against him, milking him of his seed, moaning with each movement. A dozen more, and she cried out. He joined her seconds later, feeling himself explode into her.
For long moments, neither said a word. He didn’t move. No doubt he had a stupid smile on his face. Beneath the satisfaction was another emotion, one that troubled him.
He couldn’t keep his damn hands off his wife.
Not only that, but he was beginning to want her in his bed. To roll over and be able to touch her, to feel her warmth. To smell roses when he dreamed, to know the scent meant Veronica was near.
She rose a little, looking away, then back at him, her expression a little difficult to decipher. She was satiated; he knew that much from the pulse beats still pounding against his deflated cock. She was a little embarrassed; not all the flush on her face was due to arousal. Yet she was also a little proud if he wasn’t mistaken, as if she’d done something for which she deserved acclaim.
She’d fucked him stupid, and he, for one, was damn glad of it despite the warning bells clanging in his brain.
He moved back.
What the hell did he say now? Stay with me? Or help me, I don’t know what the hell is happening?
He helped her from the workbench, occupied himself with putting himself to order, then helping her dress, his trembling fingers fastening each button much more slowly than he’d unbuttoned her.
Lust had made him gallop for the end of the race. Caution slowed him now. Did he apologize for his haste? Attempt to explain he couldn’t control himself around her? He was damned if he knew how to handle it.
“Go and be a good hostess for us, Veronica. I’ll make it back for dinner,” he said, bending his head to kiss her. He held her for a few more minutes, longer than was wise because she cuddled against him. Even her soft sigh was enough to make him want her again.
He walked with her to the door and kissed her again after opening it.
He hadn’t wanted to be married and had made little secret of that fact. He hadn’t wanted to rescue anyone, but he’d been compelled to rescue Veronica from the Society of the Mercaii. For that, he’d been rewarded with a marriage to the most confusing, fascinating, desirable woman he’d ever known.
She’d never spoken of her parents, and yesterday, he’d discovered that she had her own deep well of grief. Today, she’d been a cheerful helpmate, even charming Tom. She’d worked tirelessly for hours, then effortlessly been a siren he couldn’t ignore.
As he leaned against the brick doorway and watched Veronica walk back to Doncaster Hall, he suspected he wasn’t the same man he’d been before coming to Scotland.
Why was he suddenly so damn happy?
As she crossed the arched bridge, Veronica pressed her hands against her skirts, feeling a flush when she remembered Montgomery had done the same. She could almost feel him still inside her, stretching her, claiming her, a memory that brought another rush of heat. He touched her, and she melted. He looked at her in a certain way, and her body grew moist. She heard hisvoice, and she recalled all the deliciously decadent things they did together.
Passionwas a word she’d never used before her marriage.Pleasurewas a word limited to innocuous pursuits and inane occupations. She felt pleasure when she finished a difficult cross-stitch. She wiggled her toes in pleasure when her shoes didn’t hurt.
Montgomery had changed those words. He’d changedher.
Right at the moment, she was feeling so wonderful she didn’t want to see her relatives. Yet it was her duty to ensure that their needs were met, so she continued to her room, needing to wash and change before the confrontation. Her aunt and cousins would find fault with the state of her dress, and she was determined to give them no further reason to criticize her.
During the noon meal, she’d find some way to ascertain exactly how long her relatives intended to remain. She’d also take time to speak with Mrs. Brody and insist no changes be made to Doncaster Hall because of her aunt’s dictates.
Hopefully, the housekeeper was still speaking to her.
Elspeth was in her chamber, arranging her new dresses in the armoire. Her expression was mutinous, however, and even before she spoke, Veronica knew Elspeth’s mood had something to do with her cousins.
“There you are, Your Ladyship,” Elspeth said, forcing a pained smile to her face.
“What is it, Elspeth?”
“I am your lady’s maid, am I not, Your Ladyship?”
She nodded.
“I am to care for your belongings, bring cut flowers into the room, and straighten up if necessary. Although, I must say, Your Ladyship, you don’t leave your things lying about.”
Elspeth twisted her hands together, evidently made some sort of decision, and began to speak rapidly.
“It was a great advancement for me, Your Ladyship, and I’m very proud to serve you. Millicent is still angry about it and gives me cold looks. But I must know when you send someone to order me about. Otherwise, I don’t know if they have your best wishes at heart. How am I to know you’ve directed them to do something, and if I argue with someone, Your Ladyship, you’ll become angry at me, and I’m not wanting to lose my position.”
