“Or how to cook,” she muttered as she wrung out Damien’s shirt and set it aside, hoping that when she calmed down a little, she would see away to mend it. “Is the planting done already?”
“Most of it. The others can finish what little is left, and I have come in for my reading lesson.”
“Oh, Lord, is it that time already? It seems I am behind in my work—as always. Just let me rinse these and put them on the line to dry.”
She did not refuse Ballard’s help when he offered to empty out the soapy water and get her some clean, for she had begun to doubt she would be able to heft the tub. As he dumped the dirty water on the kitchengarden and refilled the tub, Clover tried to decide what to do for his lessons. She was no teacher, but he was a fast learner. Clover began to fear that she would fail Ballard there as well.
He noticed her frown as she rinsed the clothes and wrung them out. “If ye have too much to do now, Clover, I can come later for my lesson.” He leaned against the rail and scratched Muskrat under the chin, eliciting the tomcat’s deep purr.
“I have no more work than you have, Ballard. I can do that,” she protested when he began to hang the clothes on the line.
“So can I. No sense in me just standing about watching ye. The quicker the job is done, the quicker we can get to the lesson.”
When they were finished, he tipped the rinse water onto the kitchen garden as well, hung the tub back on the wall, and escorted her into the house. She hurried up to her mother’s room for a copy ofPoor Richard’s Almanack.It was a lot harder than the twins’ readers, but Ballard had already mastered those little books and she had no secondary readers. As she set the almanac on the table between them, she watched his eyes widen slightly.
“I fear I have nothing between the boys’ little books and this. ‘Tis not as difficult as it looks,” she assured him.
He moved to sit on the bench next to her. “I am just not sure I agree that I have gone beyond those wee readers.” He frowned as he thumbed through the almanac.
“You certainly have. In fact, I think you know those little books by heart now.”
“Weel, let us set to it then. We only have an hour. Idinnae want the others to catch me stuttering over these new words.”
Clover sat quietly, gently advising him when he stumbled over a word. Ballard needed little more than supervision, for he had quickly learned his letters and how to sound out the words. As he read through a dry piece on crops, her thoughts drifted to everything she still had to learn and how little she had really mastered.
She still lacked the ability and confidence to prepare a meal completely on her own. It was not difficult to scrub the floors and tables, but her muscles still protested such hard work. The boys were doing a great deal better than she was, adapting to their new life with an ease and enjoyment she dearly wished she could share. Everyone assured her that she was improving a little more each day, but she was not sure she believed them. Although she truly liked Molly and deeply appreciated the woman’s patient instruction, there were days when she almost resented Molly’s skills, for they made her look even more incompetent.
Ballard slipped his arms around her waist and lifted her onto his lap, abruptly yanking her from her thoughts. “I do not believe this position will facilitate your reading,” she said even as she draped her arms around his neck.
He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Ye can talk like a wee princess, cannae ye? And ye were nae listening.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. You need so little help, I am afraid my thoughts wandered. From now on, I think we can just have a short practice reading and then move on to something else—like your writing. Thetime you are able to steal from your work is too precious to waste on things you have already learned.” She murmured her pleasure when he kissed her, slowly and gently until her passion began to stir to life.
“Aye, I do need to improve my writing.” He started to unbutton the bodice of her gown. “But I dinnae feel inclined to be tutored just now, leastwise not in reading and writing.”
Clover gasped and covered his hand with hers. “Ballard, we are in the kitchen. Anyone could come in and see us.”
“Then we had best go somewhere private,” he said as he stood up, keeping her in his arms.
“Ballard,” she cried in a halfhearted protest. “‘Tis the middle of the day and we have work to do.”
“Newlyweds are expected to be, er, distracted.” He started up the stairs.
“Distracted, is it? I call this shirking.”
“Weel, lass, I intend to have a verra enjoyable shirk afore the noon meal.”
She blushed, but also laughed, infected by his passion and good humor. Suddenly she too relished the thought of stealing away from work to enjoy the desire that flared so hotly between them. She traced the shape of his ear with her tongue and kissed the hollow behind it, laughing when he hastened his strides, nearly running the last few feet to their room. He kicked the door shut, gently tossed her onto the bed, and sprawled on top of her. She laughed again.
But at the realization of how light it was in the room, a hint of embarrassment crept over her. “Ballard, ‘tis very bright in here.”
“Are ye feeling shy before your husband?”
“Less and less,” she admitted with a faint smile. “But could you draw the curtains?”
“Then I willnae be able to see ye,” he said, but he got up and pulled the curtains together just enough to lessen the sun’s glare.
Ballard returned to her side and kissed her. The slight change in lighting was clearly enough to ease her embarrassment and he found it a comfortable compromise. He distracted her with his kisses as he eased off her simple gown. Her increasingly responsive movements against him told him that she had discarded the last of her modesty. He stripped her to her thin chemise, then shed his own clothes, smiling faintly when he saw that she had already begun to unfasten his shirt.
