Hannah Howell (10 page)

“In a way, Mama,” Clover replied.

“But the price was bloody high, wasnae it?” Ballard snapped, clenching his hands into tight fists as he was swamped with an urge to go next door and bounce Thomas around some more.

“I fear I do not understand,” Agnes said.

“Old Thomas didnae want to marry Clover, but he didnae want to let her go either, if ye catch my meaning, ma’am,” Ballard answered, his fury at Thomas roughening his voice. “He was planning to make Clover the little plaything the wife doesnae ken about.”

Agnes frowned, then blushed a deep red. “Oh dear. Thomas planned such a thing? Are you certain?”

Clover nodded. “Quite certain, Mama. And he was enraged near to madness that I would have the temerity to refuse him.” She touched the ripped sleeve of her gown.

It was easy to see in her mother’s face how abruptly the woman’s faith in Thomas had crumbled. There were no explanations Agnes could dredge up to excuse such an insult. Thomas had become finally, irrevocably tarnished in Agnes’s eyes. This sordid offer was a far worse crime than the act of jilting her. Clover felt a little sorry for her mother, for she knew the woman had already suffered too many disappointments in people.

When no one had any more to say, Clover quietly suggested that they retire to the dining room to enjoy the hearty meal Molly had prepared. Clover began to feel tense the moment she took her seat next to Ballard at the linen-draped table. As she ate
the smoked ham, hot buttered vegetables, and plump rolls, she drank a lot more wine than she ever had before. She knew it was not particularly wise, but she could not seem to maintain any control over her actions. The thought of the wedding night to come made her increasingly nervous, which made her mouth dry, which made her drink more. By the time they all returned to the parlor she was feeling decidedly light-headed. She wondered if her mother had guessed at her inebriated state, for Agnes quickly bustled her out of the room for bed, before she had a chance to get settled in her seat.

“Mama?” she asked in what she hoped was a whisper. “Is it not a little early yet?”

“I begin to fear that it may be too late,” Agnes muttered as she urged her slightly unsteady daughter up the stairs to the room she would be sharing with Ballard.

“Too late for what?” Clover asked as she stumbled into the bedroom.

“Too late to keep you awake for your wedding night.”

As her mother started to help her undress, Clover said, “No, not too late for that. I will not fall into a drunken stupor.”

“Are you sure?” Agnes put Clover’s gown away in the big oak wardrobe. “I wish we had not lost your fine wedding dress because we could not pay the dress shop bill.”

“This blue gown was pretty enough, Mama. Now, do not worry. I am not so tipsy that I will fall asleep any earlier than usual. I but sought to calm my sudden attack of nerves.”

“Well, be sure to splash a lot of cold water on your
face. That man is expecting a wedding night and you have promised him one. Now, here is something frilly and romantic for you to wear.” Agnes tugged a new nightdress out of the wardrobe.

Clover breathed a sigh of appreciation as she smoothed her hand over the white silk and lace nightgown her mother held out to her. “‘Tis lovely, Mama. So rich and delicate. Where did you get it?”

“I bought it for your wedding day before our fortunes soured. The groom may have changed but ‘tis still a wedding.” Agnes helped Clover slip into the thin nightgown. “Truth to tell, I think it may be important for you to wear something that will make you feel pretty and well …” Agnes blushed. “Perhaps even a bit naughty.”

The wine Clover had consumed had succeeded in easing her fears and she giggled. “I believe that Mr. Ballard MacGregor is one of those men who
would
like his wife to be naughty in the bedchamber.”

Agnes laughed. “Yes, I suspect so.” She grew serious and gently grasped Clover by the shoulders. “There is no fault in liking the intimate side of marriage. ‘Tis an important thing to a man. The passion is, I mean. Even a husband who loves his wife might stray if their bed is cold or holds naught but duty and tolerance. Feel no shame, m’dear, if you like lying with the man, for there is where the foundation of a firm marriage will be built. Are you ready now?”

“Yes, Mama. Send the groom up to me.”

A little of Clover’s bravado faded as soon as her mother left the room. She was about to do something very intimate with a man she barely knew. It was a frightening thought, and no amount of wine could
fully banish that fear. She began to feel nervous again and hoped that Ballard would understand.

“I think your wee bride was a wee bit tipsy, Ballard,” Shelton murmured, grinning.

“Aye, a wee bit.” Ballard could not keep his amusement from his voice.

“A bit eager, are you, cousin?” Lambert teased, nodding at the way Ballard was seated on the very edge of his chair.

“Now, lads, I am powerful sorry to be depriving ye of the right to tease me without mercy, but let us have no rough talking in front of the children.” Ballard sent a pointed glance toward the twins who sat nearby, watching him, Lambert, and Shelton with wide eyes and attentive faces.

“Are you our brother now, sir?” Clayton asked Ballard in a quiet, shy voice.

“Aye,” Ballard replied. “I am now your kin by marriage, so ye may call me Ballard.”

“Ballard?” Damien asked. “Are you gonna share Clover’s bed like Mama shared Papa’s?”

Ballard was taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “Ah, weel, aye. That is how it should be when folks are wedded.”

“Oh. So that means we cannot be putting things in Clover’s bed anymore,” Clayton said.

“Ye put things in her bed? What things?”

“Damien put a frog in her bed once. And a lizard. I like putting snakes in. Not poisonous ones, just plain old snakes.”

“Ah, and then Clover screams and hollers, does she?”

“We-ell, she screeches our names, then curses as she chases us. Then Mama starts chasing Clover and telling her she ought not to be cursing,” Clayton revealed just as his mother entered the parlor.

“Clayton, I think it is time for you to go to bed, young man,” Agnes said in a stern voice as she faced her son.

“But, Mama, Shelton and Lambert said they would play draughts with us.”

“Aye, we did that ma’am,” Shelton agreed as he fought an urge to laugh.

“Oh.” Agnes sighed. “All right then, Clayton, you and Damien can play for a while, but there will be no more telling tales.” After they nodded with obvious reluctance, Agnes looked at Ballard. “Your room is ready,” she mumbled, and blushed slightly.

Ballard smiled gently and headed out of the room, trying not to reveal his eagerness too blatantly. He was just about to climb the stairs when he felt someone lightly grasp his arm. He looked down at an obviously nervous Agnes. It occurred to him that she might try to get him to wait before asserting his husbandly rights. He hurriedly tried to think of a gentle, polite way to tell her that there was no chance of that.

“Sir, I just wished to, well, to remind you that my daughter is very innocent,” Agnes said.

“I had noticed that, ma’am. It wasnae hard to see.”

Agnes bit her lip and pressed on. “Are you certain you cannot give her more time?”

“Oh, aye, verra certain, and it isnae just because I am feeling a need to have me a woman. I think it is best if Clover and I start as we mean to go on. If we wait, that could bring on its own problems. I mean, who will decide when she is ready? There is also the
fact that when I am busy at my work, and she at hers, this time at night, this sharing of a bed, will be about the only time we will have together in private.”

“Of course. And if you have little private time, then you cannot grow to really know each other. I do understand. Just please remember that she has not even been properly kissed. Well, leastwise not until you arrived.”

“Dinnae ye fret, ma’am. If nothing else, I am bound to be careful tonight for it could determine how all the other nights of my married life are spent.”

Agnes nodded, then murmured, “I shall see you in the morning then. Good night, Ballard.”

“Good night, ma’am.”

Clover heard the steady tread of Ballard’s booted feet and scrambled into the big four-poster bed. She tried very hard not to look as nervous and afraid as she was beginning to feel. Unfortunately, the only thought pounding in her head was that an awful lot of man was about to climb into her bed.

When Ballard stepped into the room, she could not manage even a tiny welcoming smile.

Ballard snuffed out all the candles in the room except the one on a table by the bed. Clover struggled to calm herself, but it was futile. He began to undress, being very careful to put his courting clothes away properly. Each piece of clothing he removed made her heart pound harder. He hesitated a moment before shedding his drawers, then shrugged. For one brief moment Clover had the urge to bolt as he took off his drawers, strode to the bed, and climbed in beside her.

She had never seen a naked man. Ballard was so tall, lean, and taut with muscles. He was dark all over, with a neat vee of black curls on his broad chest which tapered into a thin line, blossomed around his loins, and lightly coated his long, well-formed legs. As he turned on his side next to her and propped himself up on one elbow, Clover tried not to cringe away from him.

He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, feeling her tremble, and asked in a soft voice, “Are ye afraid of me, wee Clover? Ye look a wee bit like a startled rabbit.”

“No,” she answered, but when he brushed soft kisses over her face, she whispered, “Yes.”

“Dinnae be, lass. I willnae hurt ye.”

He slowly stroked his hand down her side from her shoulder to her thigh, and she felt her fears begin to recede. “I am not afraid of—well—that,” she admitted with wine-induced honesty.

“Then what are ye afraid of, sweeting?”

“Of doing something I have never done before. I am afraid to be looked upon as no man has ever looked upon me, and touched as I have never been touched before. Even though I know it will hurt only the first time, I am a little afraid of being hurt, for no one likes to be, do they, and I cannot be certain that it will only be a little hurt. Lord, you are so big, and that frightens me some, for I feel so very small just now, and ‘tis not a particularly pleasant feeling. And—” Her nervous rambling ceased the moment she felt him begin to undo her nightgown.

“And what, little one?” He gently removed her nightgown and tossed it aside.

“And I am afraid that I will not like it,” she whispered in a tremulous voice. “Or that you will not.”

“Ye just give me a smattering of the warmth I have felt in ye each time we kissed and I am going to like it just fine.” He pulled her faintly trembling body close to his and echoed the tremor that went through her, although he suspected hers was prompted by a more confusing jumble of emotion. “I will admit that I am a wee bit afraid myself.”

It was almost impossible for Clover to talk, for she was caught up in a tangled morass of strong feeling. As he held her so close, she became more and more aware of the size and strength of him. She was also a little surprised at how good it felt to be skin to skin against him. The nudity required to consummate their marriage had been one of the things that had worried her. She was amazed that something that should shock her felt so enticing instead.

“What could
you
possibly be afraid of?” she finally managed to ask.

“That ye willnae like it. I have never bedded down with an innocent before. The sheltered daughters of the wealthy were ne’er within my reach.”

“I believe that when it comes to lovemaking, the sheltered daughters of the wealthy are no different than any other women.”

“True enough, lass, but ‘tis verra important that I do this well now. A lass’s first time can determine how she will feel about the business every time after that. I dinnae want to hurt ye, but for His own reasons, God decided that to make ye my wife I shall have to inflict some pain. I am a wee bit afeared that I willnae be able to lessen the hurt. Aye, and I also can feel how small ye are and worry about my size. But I will
never use my size and strength against ye, Clover. I swear to that.”

All the time he spoke, he stroked her slim body with his hands. Clover felt herself relaxing, her thoughts growing decidedly foggy. He touched every part of her face with feathery kisses, teased her ears with his warm breath and caressed her neck with his lips and tongue. She felt an unknown craving growing within her and realized with a start that it was a craving for a little less gentleness, a little less circumspection. When he touched his mouth to hers again, she twined her arms around his neck and held his lips against hers. With a soft growl, Ballard was quick to grant her silent request.

Clover quickly became drugged by his kisses, hardly aware of how much bolder his caresses grew. Then, suddenly, he cupped her breast with his big, lightly callused hand. She gave a start as the heat that raced through her was heightened by a shaft of fire as he began to toy with her aching nipple. With a soft cry, she arched into the curve of his hand. Just as she decided that nothing had ever felt so good, he flicked his tongue over the taut tip of her breast and produced an even more exquisite sensation.

She clung to him, tentatively stroking his broad, strong back with her hands. Beneath her hands she felt a fine tremor rippling through Ballard. She realized that he was controlling his own passion even as he tried to fire hers past control. He clearly felt far more than he was revealing to her. That knowledge added to the desire already swamping her. Clover became a little bolder with her caresses.

A shock went through her and she froze for a minute when Ballard slid his hand upward along her
inner thigh. She could not believe that he would touch her so intimately. Her shock eased as she realized that she did not find it distasteful. In fact, she began to arch to his touch, desiring the intense feelings that were flooding her body. For a moment she wondered about the rightness of accepting his touch so wantonly. Then she heard him release a soft groan. He kissed her with an almost fierce hunger, and she knew she was doing exactly what he wanted.