“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 hefought 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 tolet 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.”
