“Are ye sure ye are doing the right thing, Ballard?” Shelton asked as he, Lambert, and Ballard stepped out of a carriage in front of the Sherwood home.

Ballard cursed, then muttered an apology to the Reverend Denning as he helped the elderly preacher out of the carriage. He had been so busy all morning delivering his horses to Mr. Grendall that he had barely had time to prepare for his own wedding. It had been advantageous in that he had had little time to ponder the big step he was about to take. Now he wished he had set aside a few moments to have a serious talk with his young relatives.

“Shelton, ye have been asking me that almost continuously since I announced my marriage plans,” he answered.

“Needs to be asked,” muttered Lambert.

“Marriage is a serious step,” Reverend Denning intoned as he brushed off his black frock coat.

“It is forever,” grumbled Shelton.

“For a lifetime,” added Lambert.

“I reckon I ken that weel enough,” Ballard snapped as he lifted the heavy brass knocker on the Sherwoods’ front door.

Agnes opened the door, greeted Reverend Denning, and led them all into the parlor. Molly served a light refreshment as Agnes left to fetch the rest of the Sherwoods. Ballard grimaced when his family cornered him by the window overlooking the side garden. He wished they would just quietly accept the arrangement as they had said they would, for he had a qualm or two of his own. A sigh of resignation and exasperation escaped him when he saw that Shelton and Lambert intended to prod at those qualms yet again.

“Leave off it, laddies,” he said.

Shelton shook his head, then hastily finger-combed his thick dark hair. “I ken that we are being pests about this, but ye dinnae leave us much choice.”

“Quite right,” agreed Lambert. “In but a few minutes the deed will be done and there will be no turning back.”

“Dinnae ye like the lass, Lambert?” Ballard studied his young cousin closely as he sipped his tea.

“Oh, that is not the problem. I do not know her, do I? Fact is, she does not trouble me like that Sarah Marsten did.”

As he nodded his agreement, Shelton continued, “This lass does seem to be a nicer sort. ‘Tis just that this is all happening so cursed quick. Too quick.”

“I explained about the lass’s troubles—” Ballard began.

“Aye, aye.” Shelton sighed. “Ye could still wait a mite longer, couldnae ye? She and her kin are nae being tossed out on the street today.”

“There is no point in waiting.”

“How can ye be so sure of that?”

Ballard did not have a good answer for Shelton. He was not sure why he felt so confident of what he was about to do. After his first surprise over Clover’s proposal, he had never considered refusing. Each word he had since exchanged with her, each look, had made him even more certain. He had considered everything that could go wrong and was not at all deterred. It was just as easy to think about everything that could go right. And there was the lingering memory of her sweet kisses.

“I am sure,” Ballard finally said, “but I ken there isnae much I can say to make ye feel the same. Ye will just have to set back and see that I have made the right choice. Ye willnae be letting the lass see your doubts either.”

“She sees them already,” Shelton said.

“Aye, she is a clever lass, but as soon as the wedding vows are said, the two of ye are to act like those doubts have disappeared. I will need help to make this work. Clover will be my wife and ye are to treat her as such, with all due respect, kindness, and assistance. If ye let her ken that ye still have doubts, or get stroppy with her, then ye could make a fine mess of something that could turn out to be verra good.”

“Ye dinnae need to fret about us,” Shelton assured him. “We will gladly do all of that. Once ye and the lass are wed, there isnae any turning back and we want it to work out well as much as ye do.”

“True,” agreed Lambert. “We are just trying to stop or delay it.”

“Weel, ye cannae,” said Ballard. “So let that be an end to it.”

“Aye, let that be an end to it, for here she comes,” Shelton murmured. Even though his eyes reflected admiration as he looked at Clover, he sighed. “Ye sure as Hades cannae turn around and walk out on the lass now.”

“Nay, I cannae and I willnae,” Ballard said in a hushed voice as he set his teacup down on a small table and went to meet Clover.

As he neared her, Ballard was glad he had stopped by the inn to bathe and had had a boy fetch his cleaned and pressed courting clothes so that he could change out of his homespuns.

Clover grew lovelier each time he looked at her. She was tiny, but her slim figure was perfection in his eyes. He stopped directly in front of her and met her wide-eyed gaze. It was obvious that she was nervous and a little bit afraid. Ballard was determined to eradicate both of those emotions.

Clover had forgotten how big Ballard MacGregor was. Even though his kisses had shown her how easily passion could flare between them, she was suddenly a little afraid of what she would face tonight, on her wedding night. It was hard to believe that a woman of her diminutive stature would be able to accommodate a man of Ballard’s impressive size. She recalled her mother’s words about lovemaking and was only slightly calmed, for she also recalled that her father had not been a very large man. Clover jumped nervously when Ballard suddenly took her small, trembling hand between his two big, callused ones.

“Are ye thinking of bolting, wee Clover?” he asked in a soft voice.

“The thought is lurking in the back of my mind,” she admitted.

“Weel, ye just keep a tight rein on it until this spindly old preacher has done his business.”

She stiffened her resolve, squared her shoulders, and nodded. “I will do that Mr. MacGregor.”

“That is a good lass. Weel, let us go and make ye Mrs. MacGregor.”

It was done. They were married.

Clover sipped from a glass of sweet red wine and struggled to quell yet another attack of nerves. She heartily cursed the fact that she could not stop thinking about the wedding night ahead. It did not help that, ever since the preacher had left, there had been a distinct gleam in Ballard’s eyes. Clearly the wedding night was just about all he was thinking of.

“And is that not just like a man,” she mused to herself with an inward grimace. Ballard had made it abundantly clear why he wanted a wife. She had no right to be cross. In truth, she suspected a lot of men got married just to bed their wives. Liaisons could be dangerous, causing scandal or worse, and she suspected there were men who were not fond of using the whores who seemed to proliferate wherever there was coin and the men to spend it.

A sudden commotion in the front hall yanked Clover from her musings. Someone had just slammed open the front door and was approaching the parlor with loud, angry strides. She gasped when Thomas burst into the room. He was the very last person she had expected to see at her wedding.

“Just what the hell are you doing, Clover?” he demanded as he strode over to the settee where she sat with Ballard.

Stunned, Clover could only stare up at the furious man before her. “What did you say?”

“I heard all about it in town and simply could not believe it. Clover Sherwood would never wed some ruffian from the backwoods, I said, but I now see that I was wrong to trust in your good judgment, young lady. Why have you done it?”

“I needed a husband,” she replied in a soft voice, wondering why he was so upset.

“So you grabbed the first stranger who passed by? I know things are bad for you right now, Clover, but to hurl yourself at some ruffian like a common doxy?” He shook his head. “To sell yourself like some whore—”

Thomas’s words ended in a squeak and Clover found herself gasping yet again. Her new husband was suddenly on his feet. Ballard grabbed Thomas by his crisp white shirtfront and lifted the startled man off the ground.

“I think ye have said more than enough, laddie,” Ballard said through clenched teeth.

“Unhand me, you barbarian! Do you know who you are dealing with?”

Clover leaped to her feet and placed a hand on Ballard’s arm. She was alarmed at the pure rage twisting Thomas’s handsome features and the fury brightening Ballard’s eyes. She quickly composed herself, for clearly a calming influence was needed. She sent Ballard a silent plea for peace. Her family had suffered enough scandal. She did not want a brawl in her front parlor on her wedding day.

Ballard read the plea in Clover’s wide eyes and fought to control his anger. He had a strong urge to beat the fair-haired young man he held to within an inch of his life. The ferocity of his anger surprised him. With a murmur of regret he did not mean, he set the flushed Thomas back on his feet, though he did not leave Clover’s side. He disliked allowing the man to get away with his insults and did not intend to let him deliver any more.

“I should like to speak to Clover alone,” Thomas said in a haughty voice as he readjusted his clothes. “Come along, Clover.”

When Thomas took her by the arm, Ballard tensed. “Just a moment cannot hurt,” she murmured.

She could see by the taut set of Ballard’s features that he did not like it at all, but he made no move to halt them as Thomas tugged her out into the hallway. Despite his extraordinarily insulting outburst, Clover wanted to hear what Thomas had to say. She was curious to know why he was in such an agitated state over her marriage to Ballard. Thomas was so enraged that he was shaking. She could feel his hand tremble. Since the man had jilted her and had begun to court Sarah, his fury made no sense at all.

Once they were in the hall and the parlor door was shut, Thomas turned to face her. She briefly felt she was confronting a stranger. This coldly infuriated man was a Thomas she had never seen before. He looked dangerous, and she inwardly shivered.

Clover wondered if he was about to renew his promise to marry her, but she knew that no matter what Thomas said, she would stay with Ballard.

“What are you doing here, Thomas?” she demanded.

“I am trying to save you from plunging headlong into the greatest of follies.”

“I got married, Thomas. A great many people do so. It can hardly be termed a great folly.”

“You just got married to some man you do not even know.”

“He wants a wife and I need a husband. There seemed to be a sudden dearth of prospective husbands in the area.” She was not surprised that Thomas was not embarrassed by her reference to his shabby treatment of her.

“You know why I had to end our engagement, Clover, but that was hardly reason to leap into the arms of the first man who ambled by. And one who has just been cast off by Sarah Marsten!” He grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I had no intention of putting you aside completely. You must have known that.”

“You jilted me, Thomas. I cannot see what else that could have meant.” His abrupt shift from fury to cajolery unsettled her, especially when she noticed how the hard, cold look in his eyes differed so dramatically from the soothing tone of his voice.

“I had to do that, Clover.” Thomas winced and briefly rubbed at his temples. “I have my future to consider. It did not, however, mean that I had stopped caring about you. I am truly sorry if my actions led you to believe that.”

Clover began to get the sinking feeling that Thomas was leading up to something that not only would be very insulting, but would make her furious as well. “I misunderstood, did I?” she said.

“Yes, love, you did. I felt you needed some time to understand fully why I had to end our engagement, but I was not idle during that time. I have been arranging for us to be together. As soon as you are evicted from this house, you can move into a cottage I have secured just outside of town. Of course, it would be best if you did not take your family with you, but I can understand your sense of loyalty.”

“How kind.” She could see that her sarcasm eluded him.

Thomas nodded and briefly smiled at her. “It will not be very fancy in the beginning, and I regret that. When I am wed to Sarah and much plumper in the pocket, however, I will be able to do very well by you. So you see, Clover, you must put an end to this farce immediately. You were not meant to be shackled to some rough backwoodsman. Given some time, I can provide you with a very comfortable life. Do you understand?”

“Very well, Thomas.” She wondered how she could sound so calm when she was shaking with fury.

He gave her a brief kiss. “Then it is all settled. Now go and talk to that ruffian. The marriage can be annulled. Would you like me to talk to him with you?”

“Oh no, Thomas. I can say what must be said quite easily without your kind assistance. In truth, we do not need to trouble Ballard at all.” She took a deep breath to hold on to her facade of calm. “I do not believe I have ever been so thoroughly insulted. This makes your dishonorable jilting of me pale in comparison.”

“What are you saying?”

“Was some part of what I just said unclear?” Clover knew her anger was sharpening her voice but did not care. “You call me a whore for marrying Ballard so quickly, yet you have no qualms about treating me like one. I might grasp at some scrap of understanding if this nefarious offer was made because you thought I had acted shamefully, but ‘tis clear you have been planning this arrangement for quite awhile.”

“I but tried to think of a way to help you in your time of need.”

“Oh, do not pretend that any sense of nobility prompted you. You played the genteel beau so well, I was kept blissfully ignorant of your true despicable nature. I begin to understand why Papa was so adamant that we never be left alone together. He must have suspected what a cad you really are, but being a fair man, he dared not act against you without proof. I am glad he is not alive to see your true colors now.”

“Now wait just a blasted minute,” Thomas snapped, raising the riding crop he clutched tightly in his right hand. “You forget to whom you are speaking, Clover Sherwood.”

“No, I do not. I should probably thank you for curing me of my incredible naivete. I now know exactly what sort of low, lying cur you are.” Clover cried out as Thomas suddenly grasped her arm tightly and raised the riding crop as if to strike her.

“You are a very stupid girl,” hissed Thomas. “You would choose that illiterate backwoods fool over me?”

“I would choose honorable marriage over being your whore.”

“You little bitch!”

Clover cried out as Thomas struck her with his riding crop. She ducked in time to avoid the worst of the blow, but the rawhide tore through the sleeve of her dress, stinging her arm. Thomas jerked her back toward him and was about to strike again when the parlor door was flung open and Ballard was there, tearing the riding crop from Thomas’s hand. Clover slumped against the wall, stunned by Thomas’s violence.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Ballard asked her.

Before Clover could reply, Thomas lunged at Ballard. She pressed herself hard against the wall to get out of the way of the ensuing fight. Horrified by a nasty fight in her front hall on her wedding day, Clover required a moment to find her voice.

“Stop this immediately!” she cried.

After throwing Thomas off, Ballard prepared for another attack from the man. “I would like to oblige ye, wee Clover, but it appears your old beau is of a different turn of mind,” he said as he hastily removed his coat and tossed it at her. “Get in the parlor, lass, and shut the door.”

She was about to argue when Thomas charged Ballard again. As both men slammed up against the stair rails, she ducked into the parlor and shut the door. Clutching Ballard’s coat to her chest, she faced the others in the room, who all gaped at her. Clover sighed and moved shakily to sit on the settee.

“My dear, what is going on out there?” Agnes asked, her wide gaze fixed upon the parlor door as she twisted a lacy white handkerchief in her hands.

“Ballard is thumping Thomas,” Clover replied.

“Good heavens—why?”

“I really do not wish to talk about it now, Mama.”

Clover shut her eyes and tried to get her anger under control. She frowned when, after a brief moment of silence, the slamming of the front door echoed through the house. When Ballard did not immediately enter the parlor, Clover opened her eyes and started to rise. She could not believe that Thomas had won the battle, yet she could not be sure. The wild-eyed Thomas in the hall was not the man she had thought she knew. Before she could move, Shelton and Lambert dashed out into the hallway, only to return a moment later looking totally confused.

“There isnae anyone out there,” Shelton announced.

“Perhaps they decided to continue the fight outside,” Clover said.

“Nay. We looked out there too.”

A moment later Ballard strode into the parlor, looking only slightly ruffled and quite pleased with himself. He sat down next to her, took his coat to which she still clung, and draped it over the back of the settee. Shelton served him a large tankard of ale and Clover waited a little impatiently as he took a long drink.

“Well?” Clover finally asked, certain that Ballard was dawdling over every tiny drop of ale just to irritate her. “What happened and where is Thomas?”

“I took the mon over to Miss Sarah’s house. I reckoned that she could doctor him since she has been stepping out with him,” Ballard replied.

“Oh. Thomas needed some doctoring, did he?”

“Aye, a wee bit. Now, lassie …” He cocked one finely drawn brow at her. “Dinnae ye think ye ought to tell your husband why the mon was set to beat ye?”

“I believe I may have irritated him,” she replied hesitantly, not wanting to repeat what Thomas had said to her.

Ballard stared at her with one dark brow raised. “Is this the face of a fool? I heard your voices growing louder and angrier. You were arguing about something.”

“Oh, I am sure you are not really interested,” she mumbled, and took a long sip of wine.

“Aye, I am—verra interested. Did he ask ye to marry him again? Did he change his mind and decide that money didnae really matter?”

Now that Thomas was gone, Ballard felt relatively at ease. He had actually felt afraid when Thomas had burst into the room and made it clear that he was opposed to the wedding. His jealousy puzzled him, but Ballard knew he could not ignore it or shrug it away. He had seen Thomas as a threat and had ached to get rid of the man, swiftly and violently. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to do as Clover had asked, to stand back and allow her to talk to the man first, on her own. He had considered it a big risk, had feared that Clover would leave him for Thomas. Now, as Clover took a deep breath and gave him a look of reluctance and exasperation, he centered all his attention on her.

“Money still matters a great deal to Thomas and he did not ask me to marry him.”

Ballard knew she was reluctant to tell him the truth, but he was as determined to hear it as she was to hide it. “That wasnae enough to put him in such a lather. He also wouldnae come here to tell ye something ye already kenned. Why did he storm in here and try to end our marriage?”

Clover sighed. “He did have plans for me. They concerned a cottage just outside of town.”

A soft curse escaped Ballard and he muttered an apology. He could see by the darkening looks on Shelton’s and Lambert’s faces that they also understood what Clover was saying. Agnes just looked confused and Ballard was a little surprised at the woman’s naivete.

“Do you mean that Thomas has actually been planning to help us?” Agnes asked.

“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.

Suddenly, Ballard lost his tightly held control. His kisses and caresses became feverish. He stroked her until she felt the same. A tiny flicker of sanity edged into her mind when she felt him probe for entry into her body. Something inside her tensed, but not from fear. Clover knew she was taut with anticipation. She then realized that Ballard was hesitant. Gripping his broad shoulders, she looked up at him. There was such heat in his eyes, she could feel it burn through her.

“Ballard?” she whispered.

“Ah, lass, I want to do this right. I dinnae want to hurt ye.”

“Do it quickly,” she advised in a soft voice.

He nodded, and with one hard thrust pushed inside her. Clover gasped and shuddered as a flash of pain tore through the desire that had warmed her. She clutched Ballard tightly as he went still. After a moment the pain began to fade and her anticipation returned, a sharp, demanding anticipation. But Clover was not quite sure what she wanted, or how to ask for it. She concentrated on how it felt to be one with the big, strong man she held, and her passion rose again. The renewal of her desire was aided by his touch and soft kisses. She could feel him trembling and knew he fought to control his passion until she was over the shock and pain of losing her maidenhead. Instinct suddenly told her how to let him know that she was more than ready to continue.

She released a soft sigh and arched toward him, encircling him with her limbs. He gave a hoarse cry and began to move. There was a barely leashed wildness in Ballard; Clover savored it. She eagerly sought the culmination of her passion. Even as he pulled her into a blinding maelstrom of fulfillment, she heard him cry out and tense as his seed poured into her. Her last clear thought was to wonder what it would be like if Ballard ever lost all control over himself.

Heavy-limbed and somnolent, Clover barely blinked as Ballard rose from her arms and cleansed them both with a cool, damp cloth. She readily curled up against him when he returned to bed and took her into his arms. The way he felt, the warmth that still lingered within her veins, and even the scent of him began to revive her desire. She smiled faintly, amused by how quickly she had gone from timidity to greediness.

Grinning, Ballard held Clover’s slim form as close as he could while still being gentle. All his instincts had proven correct. Even though it had been Clover’s first time, he had been able to pleasure her. He had sensed the passion in her, sensed from the very beginning how they would respond to each other. It was one of the reasons he had suffered so few qualms about their hasty marriage. Now that the painful part had passed, he knew the lovemaking would only get better.

He looked down at Clover as he lightly combed his fingers through her thick golden hair. Ballard wondered if she knew the value of the passion they had found together. He had often heard that well-bred ladies considered lovemaking something one should not mention or enjoy. Despite the wisdom of what her mother had said to her, he wondered if Clover had accepted such teachings or if she would now try to deny what they had shared. The only way their marriage could have a chance was if Clover’s mind and heart agreed with her body, if she recognized, accepted, and enjoyed the passion that flowed between them.

“‘Tis a powerful shame that God decided to mark a woman’s chastity in such a way,” he murmured.

“It was not so bad, and now it is over.”

“True, but it would be better still if, weel, if your hair changed color or ye got a wee beauty mark or the like. I never could figure out why it had to hurt.”

“I believe it is so women will be hesitant,” Clover said, watching her fingers as she idly toyed with the black curls on Ballard’s chest. “All those other things could be disguised or hidden away. I think God balanced the scales by allowing us to feel pleasure too.”

He tightened his hold on her. “And did ye feel pleasure?”

Clover felt herself blush, but softly answered, “Yes. I rather liked it. Did you?” She smiled when he laughed.

“Oh, aye, my wee bonnie wife, ye could say that. Do ye think ye liked it enough to want a bit more?”

With a daring that surprised her, Clover slid her hand over his trim hip in a slow caress as she replied, “Possibly, but I am too new at this to be sure how to let you know that.” She realized she really did want more even though she still suffered a little stinging.

“Weel, lass, ye could just start getting frisky.”

“Frisky, hmmm?”

“Aye. Of course, if ye are too shy to do that, ye could just ask for more.”

The slight tension Clover felt in Ballard told her that she was not the only one who wanted another taste of passion. He clearly shared her inclination to enjoy a time when timidity and fear did not intervene to possibly dull what they could feel. She also knew that, at least this once, Ballard would not do anything unless she made her wants very clear.

Taking a deep breath to quell a lingering flicker of shyness, she touched her lips to his, met his steady, passion-warmed gaze, and whispered, “More.”