Something was wrong. It had been over a fortnight since her rescue from Thomas, and Ballard had been acting strangely every one of those sixteen days.

At times he was almost desperately attentive. The first night they had been well enough to make love, and every night since then, there had been a ferocity to his lovemaking. Although it thrilled her, its cause worried her. At other times he seemed to be drawing away from her, trying to put some distance between them. His words had a rough edge; his behavior was sometimes surly. He had never been a moody man before and she was at a loss to explain what was ailing him now.

In addition, he seemed to be encouraging her to spend time alone with Theodore Potsdam. The young man had called on them a couple of times right after the rescue, to see how they were mending. Clover appreciated his concern and enjoyed his company, but she was baffled by her husband’s refusal to stay and socialize. Instead, he always left them alone together on one pretext or another, and even urged Theodore to stay longer and return again soon. Ballard had never been a particularly possessive man, but he seemed to be encouraging a relationship that might once have aroused his jealousy. It was almost as if he wanted Clover to develop an emotional attachment to Theodore!

Now, as she stood on the front veranda and waved good-bye to her family, who were all headed off in various directions, she decided to confront Ballard.

Molly was with Jonathan. Agnes and the twins would be spending the day with the Doogans. Shelton, Lambert, and Willie were on the way to Cyril’s to deliver the yearling the man had bought. Even Adam was gone, off to court the blacksmith’s widow. For once she and Ballard were completely alone.

For a while she busied herself in the kitchen, hoping Ballard would seek her out. He had always done so before when they had been blessed with a rare moment of privacy. But when there was no sign of him after an hour, Clover knew she would have to take the first step.

She was just putting her apron away, intending to go and look for him, when Theodore Potsdam knocked on the open door and strolled into the house. “Hello, Theodore,” she greeted him. “Where is Ballard? Did you see him outside?”

“He told me to come on in and keep you company. He has a lot of work to do.”

“Does he.”

Clover absently waved him toward a seat at the kitchen table and put the kettle on the fire. She leaned against the sink and studied Theodore. He was a handsome young man with thick fair hair and a pleasing face. Again it struck her as odd that her husband was allowing such a man to run free in his home.

“Have I grown a wart?” asked Theodore.

She smiled and shook her head. “No. I was just thinking that something very odd is going on with Ballard. Do you feel that something is—well—not quite right with him?” She set the teapot on the table, spooned tea leaves into it, and filled it with boiling water.

“Odd? How so?” Theodore’s eyes twinkled with amusement and understanding. “I thought every husband allowed his wife to spend hours alone with another man.”

She set his teacup in front of him with a clink and gave him a mildly reproving look. “How droll. I think I may have a real problem here, Theo.”

“Pour us the tea and sit yourself down. I began to think you would never mention it or, worse, would play the martyr and bear all of Ballard’s recent slights in tortured silence. ‘Tis one reason I have been visiting with such annoying regularity. I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

She poured the tea and sat opposite him. “I have plenty of people to talk to.”

“True, but they have not noticed anything odd, have they? And I suspect you do not wish to intrude on Molly’s or your mother’s happiness just now. So that leaves me—your newest and dearest friend.”

“You can be very irritating when you try.”

He grinned. “And often when I make no effort at all.” He grew serious and reached across the table to pat her hand. “We may not have known each other for very long, but I consider you and that big Scot my friends. I do not like to see this trouble between you.”

She sighed. “I do not like to see it either. What is worse, I do not know its cause. It started after I was rescued yet again.” She started to sip her tea and abruptly stopped. “No, Ballard began to act oddly right after the dinner at your father’s home. Yet that does not make sense. It was a lovely evening.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not much. He kept asking me if I liked your house, wanted to know if it reminded me of my old home in Langleyville. Why are you smiling?”

“Just amused that a man as smart as Ballard can be such an idiot.”

“You are not being very helpful.”

He took a scone from a plate on the table. “Since I first began to notice that there was a problem between the two of you, I have given the matter a great deal of thought. Clover, you and Ballard come from very different backgrounds.”

“That does not matter.”

“No, it does not matter to you at all. It is one of the things that makes you so endearing. But such things can matter a great deal to a man. All men like to think they can give their wives everything they need or want. It is possible that the evening you spent at my home reminded Ballard of all that you used to have. I suspect I did not help much by talking about the theater and the opera and such. Right now I suspect Ballard is doing the noble thing—he means to set you free. In fact, I believe he is trying to match us up.”

“You may leave now.”

Theodore choked on the last bite of his scone and quickly washed it down with a large gulp of tea. “Pardon?”

“You are right in everything you said. I just think you had better go home. After all, it would not do for the son of the magistrate to witness a wife murdering her husband.”

He laughed, stood up, leaned over the table, and kissed her cheek. “Do not be too hard on the boy.”

“Of course not. I fully intend to have a reasonable discussion with him—right after I strangle him.”

A few moments after Theodore departed, Ballard entered the kitchen. Clover was sure Theo had said something to Ballard to get him to come after her. He had that dark, solemn look on his face again. She was heartily sick of it.

“Ballard, we have to talk,” she said, and sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to join her.

“Aye, we do.” He poured himself a large tankard of ale, as if he needed a bracing sip or two to get through the discussion.

Clover was not sure she liked his ready agreement. What if the trouble between them was completely different from what she suspected? What if he truly no longer wanted to be married to her and did not know how to tell her? Nevertheless, she knew she would not rest easy until she knew the truth.

“You have been acting very strangely the last two weeks,” she said, silently cursing her trembling voice.

“I have?”

Ballard tried not to show his surprise. He had been working hard at hiding his feelings and he thought he had succeeded. Each time Theodore had visited he had done his best to leave Clover and the man alone. He thought he had executed his machinations with great subtlety. It was unsettling to realize that he had somehow given himself away.

“Yes, you have been acting strange. Ballard, what is wrong? I am sure something is troubling you. You are not a moody man, yet you have certainly behaved like one since we were rescued. I realize that I have brought you a lot of trouble. My Lord, I nearly got you killed and I put your kinsmen and friends in great danger. Yet, now that Thomas is dead—”

Ballard stopped her rambling with a finger against her lips. “The trouble wasnae of your making. Dinnae be blaming yourself for my moods, loving.”

“‘Tis easy to do when no other reasonable explanation comes to mind. And I have spent over a fortnight trying to understand your behavior.”

“I was but wrestling with a decision.”

His tone of voice alarmed Clover. He sounded so sad and regretful. Her whole body tensed in readiness for his next words. “A decision?”

“Aye. A decision about ye and it was hard-wrought I can tell ye.” Ballard took a long drink of ale to steady himself. “Lass, I ken that ye were nae intended to live in the wilderness, that it isnae your world. So I have decided that it would be kinder to let ye return to the life I dragged ye away from.”

Clover stared at him for one full moment as his words throbbed in her mind. It was just as she and Theodore had suspected, but she was still shocked to hear Ballard say it. After all they had been through together, she could not believe he was telling her to go away. It did not make sense. It was certainly the last thing she wanted to hear.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice hoarse and unsteady.

“Ye are a lady born and bred, loving. This isnae the life for ye. I am giving ye your freedom.”

Stunned, she continued to stare at him. There was no way to ignore or deny what he was saying. He had made it painfully clear.

As pain swept over her, Clover clasped her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out loud. She did not think anything could hurt as badly as his rejection, even though she had thought herself prepared to hear it. Ballard reached toward her and she flinched away. If his words could cut her so deeply, she could not risk his touch.

Then fury began to push through the knots of hurt and sorrow inside her. She would not allow him to hurt her so badly. If Ballard thought that he could discard her so callously, that she would just slink away quietly into the night, he was due for a rude awakening.

“You have decided, have you?” she asked in a near hiss of anger as she rose to her feet.

“Now, lass, we both ken that this is for the best.”

Ballard watched her warily. For a brief moment he thought he had seen hurt in her eyes, a deep hurt that broke his heart, but he had even less idea how to deal with the intense anger Clover was now displaying.

“The best for whom? The best for you, Mr. MacGregor? And why would being rid of me be good for you? Is there some other woman you prefer to have? Elizabeth perhaps? Am I to be set aside so that you can join up with that whore? Is that why you have been playing the matchmaker? You need not feel so guilty if you can just hand me over to another man, is that it?”

“How can ye think I would be so fickle, so heartless?” he demanded, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Me? Me? I am not the one who has just calmly announced he wishes to end our marriage, to cast aside vows spoken before God. I have not been pushing you into another woman’s arms in the hope that you would run off with her. There has to be a good reason for your behavior. Since you have not seen fit to give me one, I have supplied it.”

“I told ye my reasons. This isnae the life for ye, Clover. Since ye came to Kentucky, the circumstances that made ye marry me have changed. Your mother and brothers will soon be living with Colin Doogan. Ye have no dependents to worry about now. Without them clinging to your skirts, ye are free to return to your old life.”

Clover trembled with outrage. Words failed her. Without hesitation she picked up his tankard and poured the ale over his head.

He yelped and glared through the dripping liquid, then slowly, carefully took a linen napkin from the table and wiped his face.

Clover threw the empty tankard against the wall, but her small act of defiance did little to ease her pain and anger. “Have I been such an inadequate wife that you wish to toss me aside like rotted hay?”

Throwing down the napkin, Ballard scrambled to face her as she circled the table. “Nay, ye have done verra weel. But a lass like ye shouldnae have to be working like ye are now. Ye should have servants to wait on ye.”

“Have I complained?”

“Nay. Not once. And I have no complaints about how ye are doing as my wife. None at all.”

“I see. You are casting me aside because you are so pleased with me. ‘Tis a strange way to thank a person, I must say.”

He grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I am doing what is best for ye. Cannae ye see that, loving? Ye deserve so much better than this. I saw that the evening we dined at Cyril Potsdam’s. I heard it in every word ye and Theodore exchanged about places and people I ken nothing about. Ye fit into his life so weel that there was no denying the truth to meself any longer. That is the sort of life ye deserve. That is the comfort and elegance ye were born to.

“When ye asked me to be your husband,” he went on, “ye had three other people to care for and little chance that ye would ever regain what your father’s suicide had taken from ye. Now that Doogan will be caring for your family, ye can return to that fine life, back to the silks and satins and carriages. Ye no longer have to settle for gingham, callused hands, and riding to fetes in a hay wagon. I am certain that Cyril will help you all he can. Theodore certainly will. He likes you and he kens that ye were born to a better life than this.”

Clover could not believe what she was hearing. After all she had done, after all she had struggled to learn, Ballard still thought she wanted a pampered life. He really believed that she would welcome a chance to walk away from their marriage, from all that they had together, simply because he could not give her pretty dresses or silver servingware. With a vicious curse, she hit him square in the stomach. She rather savored his grunt of pain.

“Ballard MacGregor, you have got to be the dumbest man I have ever had the misfortune to know! I cannot decide whether to cry or punch you again. Well, Mr. MacGregor, you will not escape this marriage so easily. It is not some horse deal you can slink out of. We are bound by words before God, and bound we will stay.”

Ballard straightened painfully and looked at her. Matters were not progressing in the way he had imagined as he had pondered his decision over the last sixteen torturous days. Clover should be a little sad, a little reluctant, but glad of the opportunity to try for the life she had once known. She should be ready to pack up and run to Theodore. Instead she looked as if she wanted to kill him. Ballard was not sure what to do next. He had convinced himself that she could not possibly want the little he could offer, but her reaction was swiftly undermining that conclusion.

“I was just trying to give ye what ye wanted,” he said, his voice softened by his increasing uncertainty.

“I begin to think you have no idea what I want, or even who I am, Ballard MacGregor. I am no longer so sure of that myself. I had believed myself married to an intelligent man, but ‘tis clear that I was wrong.” She shook her head, suddenly overcome by the force of her feelings. “I do not know how on earth I could have fallen in love with such an idiot.” Clover gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth. With a cry of frustration, she bolted for their bedroom.

Ballard stared after her, the light of understanding slowly dawning in his brain and then he set out after her.

Clover was wrong to think she could hide away after what she had just said. He had seen her astonishment, knew she had not intended to reveal herself in that way. It only added weight to her impetuous words. Ballard forgot his plans to send her back to her old way of life, to sacrifice his own happiness so that she could be with Theodore. If she loved him, he would never let her go.

He caught up with her just as she was trying to shut the door to their room. He easily held it open, pushed his way inside, and caught her arm. Ignoring her strenuous efforts to escape, he dragged her over to the bed and pinned her down on it.

“Now, mayhap we can have a reasonable talk,” he said, trying to catch his breath after their vigorous struggle, to ignore the enticing way her breasts rose and fell.

“There is no being reasonable with you. Get off me,” Clover cried, trying to buck him off her. But that only brought her into more intimate contact with his long, lean frame.

“Not until I try and explain what I was doing. Or what I was trying to do.”

She glared at him. “You were trying to throw your wife away. Worse than that, you had already chosen the man you intended to give her to.”

“Nay, lass, never that. Now, cease glaring daggers at me and just listen while I explain.” He sighed as he struggled to say the right words. “I want ye, lass, never doubt that. I also want ye to have the very best life ye can possibly have. I saw ye in Cyril’s home, saw how weel ye fit, and kenned I could never give ye that.”

Clover was slowly beginning to understand. She had struggled with her own doubts about being the wife he needed. Those doubts and fears had rushed to the fore with every meal she had burned and every cow she had failed to milk properly. Ballard had obviously struggled with his own doubts and fears—particularly the doubt that he could ever give her the things he believed she needed and deserved. It was almost laughable. They had both been struggling to do what they thought the other wanted, but never thought to just ask. If they had only indulged in a little honest talking, they might have eased each other’s concerns. She could understand how difficult such an honest conversation would have been, however.

“I can live without those things, Ballard,” she said in a soft voice, her anger slipping away. “I thought I had succeeded in showing you that.”

“But that isnae the point. I can see it so clearly, ‘tis hard to understand why ye cannae. Ye shouldnae have to struggle to show me what ye can and cannae live without. Your husband should be able to give ye everything ye could possibly want or need. It was when we dined at Potsdam’s that I kenned I would never be able to.”

“There you go again—thinking you know exactly what I want and need.” Clover felt so frustrated by his obstinacy, she wanted to strike him, but he still had her firmly pinned to the bed. She had to settle for an unsatisfactory scowl.

“Lass, ye wed me because ye needed someone to help ye take care of your family. Ye dinnae need that anymore.”

“And so naturally you assume I want to leave.” She shook her head. “I am trying so hard to understand how you could come to such a wrongheaded conclusion, but ‘tis a little difficult to get beyond the insult of it all.”

“I dinnae mean to insult ye. I just want to do what is best.”

“And I just want to be your wife. I love you, Ballard, and I want to be with you.”

Finally her words seemed to penetrate. His hands relaxed on her. “Lord, lass, I have wanted ye to love me for longer than I ken,” he whispered. “Truth to tell, I think I wanted that from the verra beginning. It would certainly explain a lot of the odd emotions that have beset me since the moment I met ye.”

“You never gave me any indication that you wanted my love.” She hastily thought over everything he had said about marriage and she knew she was right. He had discussed only the practical aspects of their union.

“I didnae want to force ye into something ye were nae ready for or didnae truly feel. ‘Tis always easier and safer to deal with the day-to-day aspects of a marriage like ours. Ye needed a provider and I needed a bedmate. True, we didnae look at it that coldly, but I dinnae think we looked too much further either. And, to be honest, I wasnae sure what I truly felt until I came to this decision.”

“I see. You decide that you care for me and then decide to send me away. It still makes no sense, Ballard.”

He grimaced. “Nay, it doesnae. When ye say it that way, it makes me sound nearly as mad as Dillingsworth. Hellfire, mayhap I am. Since the day I met ye, I have certainly felt a wee bit mad from time to time.” He pressed his forehead against hers, further easing his grip on her. “I dinnae ken what to do now, loving. It took every scrap of will I have to let ye go, but ye have cast that all asunder in about ten minutes. I do love ye, Clover, and I can never tell ye what it means to have ye love me.”

The words Clover had so longed to hear dropped so easily from his lips that it took her a moment to realize he had said them. Then she curled her arms around his neck and gave him a light kiss. Concentrating on how they felt about each other might well be the way to convince him that his grand plan was in error. “You could try to show me.”

“I would like to, but we still have nae sorted this out. I dinnae think I will ever be as rich as Potsdam.” He grunted when she hit him lightly.

“Stop that this instant,” she ordered. “I was just feeling very pleasant and you ruined the mood with more idiocy. I am not such a spoiled, selfish child that I cannot be happy without a pile of things scattered around me. I love you, Ballard MacGregor. Try to use the wit I know you have and think on the answer to these questions. Would I love a man I did not have complete faith in? Would I love a man I thought was a failure? Would I love a man who did not make me happy?”

Ballard stared at her. He could see the truth of her emotions in her eyes, which had turned a rich, enticing blue. It both elated and stunned him. Clover did love him, rough manners and all. And she would not love him if she was not completely satisfied with him and what he could offer her.

Since he did not know what to say next, he kissed her hoping to relay through touch all the things he could find no words to express. Her response was immediate and passionate. His own desire, already stirred by the knowledge that she loved him, flared to full life. Ballard did not think he could get her clothes off fast enough, and the way Clover tugged at his shirt and breeches told him that she felt the same.

Once they were both naked, he eased his body over hers, savoring the sensation of their flesh pressing together. He wanted to make love slowly, to show her how much he cherished her, but then she moved her hands down his sides and he knew that it would be impossible to go slowly. His emotions were too fierce, his passion too intensely urgent.

Clover reveled in his frantic lovemaking. It soothed many of her hurt feelings. She had wanted to hold him in that intimate embrace since he had confessed to loving her. It was the best way she knew of showing him how much his love meant to her.

She left no part of his lean frame untouched or untasted, and he did the same to her. Knowing that he returned her love made Clover’s desire so intense, she grew as fierce in her passion as Ballard was in his, fighting him to return kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke. One moment she was on top, the next he was, until they were a blissfully heated tangle of flesh and linen.

Their releases shook them both simultaneously. Ballard collapsed in her arms. She held him close and hoped he would never again talk of her leaving him. After the passion they had just shared, he must know that there was no place else she wanted to be. Such intense lovemaking must have burned away his doubts and fears, just as it had hers.

“Ah, loving,” he murmured when he finally eased the intimacy of their embrace and rubbed his wounded side. “I think we had best keep a tighter rein on that fire until we are completely healed.” He kissed her wrist, then pulled her back into his arms.

“So you have decided I can stay?” she murmured, and grinned when he cursed against her neck.

“How do ye make my good intentions sound so idiotic?” he muttered.

“Perhaps because they are.” She smiled at him when he lifted his head to give her a cross look. “Ah, Ballard, you are such a good man.” She kissed him briefly. “With a little work I will yet cure you of these bouts of stupidity.” She giggled when he tickled her in retribution.

“I didnae ken that ye loved me, Clover,” he said quietly when they relaxed again.

“Would that have made a difference?”

“All the difference in the world. When did ye ken that ye loved me?” He idly drew designs on her taut stomach as he waited for her answer.

“When I came back that day after Big Jim had grabbed me and I wanted you to hold me so badly, to show how pleased you were that I was safe.” She almost laughed at the look of dismay on her husband’s face.

“And I stood there like a dumb oaf. I am sorry. That must have added to the turmoil ye suffered that day.”

“To put it mildly. You were clearly feeling in some turmoil as well, so ‘tis easily forgotten.”

“Why didnae ye tell me? Ye forgave me for that, believed in me when I told ye what had happened, and we were close again. Why didnae ye tell me then that ye love me?”

“Because we had never discussed love as part of this marriage.” She smiled at his startled look. “We talked of sharing work, of building a life together, and even of children, but we had never mentioned love.”

“And I never did get around to courting ye,” he said, mildly disgusted with himself.

“I should not worry about that. I did not miss it.” Clover lightly traced his face with her fingertips and knew she would never tire of looking at it. “We had a great deal to resolve and Thomas’s attacks gave us little time for such frivolity.”

“Weel, maybe now that the danger has passed we can go away somewhere together—alone—as newlywed folk are supposed to do. We can steal a few moments of privacy, something we dinnae get enough of. Then I can practice a wee bit of courting.”

“I would like that.” She murmured her appreciation when he gave her a slow, deep kiss. “Perhaps we should invite Theodore.” She laughed, then grew serious. “When did you decide that you loved me?” she asked softly.

“When we were coming home from Potsdam’s and I thought of how I had to let you go.”

“Well, perhaps you have paid enough of a price for such idiocy.”

“Oh, aye, lass. I have paid ten times over since devising that mad plan.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “And we will never have such foolishness again?”

Ballard smiled at her. “Not if ye keep reminding me that ye dinnae want to leave.”

“Oh, I shall have no trouble making you believe that right here in your arms is exactly where I want to stay. All you have to do is remind me that here is where you want me.”

He touched his lips to hers. “That will be the most pleasurable chore any woman has ever asked of a mon.”

An enchanting new novel from New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell that will make you believe in the power of destiny—and desire—all over again …

SHE SEES HIS FACE EVERYWHERE …

Lady Alethea Vaughn Channing is haunted by a vision of a man in danger—the same man who she has seen in dreams time and time again. She doesn’t even know his name, and yet she feels the connection between them, knows she is the only one standing between him and disaster …

… YET THEY HAVE NEVER MET

But rakish Lord Hartley Greville is capable of protecting himself, as he has proven more than once in his perilous work as a spy for the crown. If he’s to carry out his duty, he’ll need to put aside the achingly beautiful woman with the strange gift. And yet, when Alethea’s visions reveal a plot that could endanger children, Hartley will not be able to ignore the destiny that binds them together—or resist the passion burning between them …

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

IF HE’S WILD,
coming in June 2010!