He respected Clover’s modesty but was glad to see her relinquish it. Soon he would try something more daring, perhaps making love in some place other than their bed. He ached to look at her without the constraints of clothing or shadows.
He slid his hands along her legs, catching the hem of her chemise and slowly easing it up her body. He smiled as he slipped it over her slim hips and paused to kiss her taut stomach. Clover had insisted earlier that there was no red in her hair, but the curls at the juncture of her thighs were a bright coppery color. One day soon, when she was not so easily flustered by his blunt talk, he would point that out to her.
Clover trembled as Ballard tugged off her chemise, tossed it aside, and finally pressed his body against hers. The feel of their skin touching never failed to ignite her desire. She ran her hands down his side and caressed his taut, smooth hips. She savored his warmth, the texture of his skin, and the feel of hismuscles beneath her fingers. When she slid her hand between their bodies and began to stroke him, he kissed her with a barely restrained ferocity. She liked the way his whole body expressed his appreciation of her intimate touch and the way his control rapidly began to fray. He always worried that he was too rough when his desire grew fierce, but she was determined to show him that she was not made of glass. She reveled in the full strength of his passion.
She tried to continue her caresses, but he soon moved out of her reach. As he peppered her breasts with kisses, she threaded her fingers in his thick hair. A soft cry of delight escaped her when he drew the aching tip of her breast into his mouth. He slid his hand down her stomach and she opened to him, craving the feelings his intimate caresses brought. Clover lost all sense of time and place, giving herself over completely to the desire thundering through her veins, until Ballard shifted his kisses upward along her inner thighs. For one brief moment her shock over such an intimate act checked her passion, but that shock had no chance to take root. It was banished with one slow stroke of his tongue.
With a soft groan born of both passion and a willing surrender, she opened herself to his intimate kiss. A part of her responded eagerly to his hoarse compliments and encouragement. The exquisite sensations built and built until suddenly she felt near her release. She called his name, but even as she started to recover from the semiconscious state into which her climax had hurled her, she felt her passion rising again, kept alive by his caressing hands and tongue.
Suddenly he was in her arms, holding her close ashe turned onto his back. Clover began to wonder what he would do next when he neatly joined their bodies. She gasped, shuddering with the sensations inspired by this new position. Ballard tugged her face down to his. He kissed her, grasped her hips, and silently showed her what to do. Clover needed little instruction. She wanted to test herself in this new method of lovemaking, but their desire was too hot, too greedy. Ballard gave a hoarse shout as his release tore through him. He held her firmly against him, spilling his seed deep within her. Clover quickly followed him, collapsing in his arms as the culmination of her passions raced through her, leaving her weak and trembling.
It was a long time before Ballard eased the intimacy of their embrace. He wanted to stay where he was, their bodies entwined, but there was too much work to do. As he turned on his side to look at Clover, he noticed the color tinting her cheeks and the tension in her lovely body. He began to fear that he had pushed her too far too fast. When he kissed her cheek, she barely glanced at him, blushing even more.
“Lass, there is naught to be embarrassed about in a man and a wife taking their pleasure of each other,” he said. “I told ye I had a little experience. We have nae done anything odd or unseemly.”
“Are you quite sure?” she asked, timidity stealing the strength from her voice.
“Quite sure. Ye and I will be sharing a bed for many a year to come, lass—God willing—and it doesnae hurt to have a wee bit of variety.” He took her hand in his, kissed the palm, and then frowned whenhe noticed all the little wounds on the back of her hand. “Have ye been dragging your hands through the brambles, loving?”
Clover took one brief look at her hands and grimaced. “No, merely collecting eggs.”
“Ah, so The Bitch has been at ye.” He cursed, distressed to see how hard work was stealing the softness from her delicate hands.
“The Bitch? That is not really that hen’s name, is it?”
“Aye. Do ye have a better one?”
She laughed. “No. ‘Tis a terrible name, but it suits her. You could have warned me about her.”
“Sorry, loving, I should have thought. I would have roasted the cursed beastie by now, but she is the best egg-layer I have. I will be letting her hatch a clutch soon so ye can have a respite. Have ye tried tossing the food down right in front of her, then grabbing the eggs when she isnae looking?”
“It does not work. She either stays on her eggs or comes right back to fight me for them.”
“Weel, mayhap it is time to put that ill-tempered fowl on the spit,” he said as he sat up and stretched.
“Oh no, at least not until I win one battle with the wretched thing.” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, and picked her chemise up off the floor. “I will not allow her to get the best of me.” While Ballard busied himself getting dressed, she quickly slipped into her chemise. “It must be time to begin the noon meal.”
“Aye, ‘tis time we both returned to our chores.”
“You look very pleased with yourself, considering you are about to go back to work.”
At the door, he winked at her. “Ah, weel, nothingcan improve a mon’s mood more than a morning’s roll in the clover.”
Clover blushed, gasped, and looked for something to throw at him. By the time she picked up a candlestick, the door was shutting behind him and his soft laughter was fading as he hurried downstairs. She finished getting dressed and tidied her hair. He was a rogue, rough but charming. He made such remarks just to see her blush. She intended to learn to control that. One day she would surprise him and not bat an eyelash when he made one of his outrageous remarks. Perhaps she would even reply with something equally outrageous. Her modesty was slowly being banished and she was confident she would soon be as bawdy as Ballard sometimes was. But first, she thought with a sigh as she hurried down to the kitchen, she had to learn to care for the house.
She grimaced when she found Molly already in the kitchen. “Sorry, Molly,” she murmured as she moved to check the bread, which she had left to rise in bread-pans on the counter.
“No need to apologize. I was a newlywed once too.” She winked and grinned. “You blush so well.”
“‘Tis a curse. Ballard finds it far too amusing for my liking.” She eased the cloth off the bread and gave a cry of delight. “Look, Molly, I think I got it right this time.” She waited tensely as her friend inspected her efforts.
“It certainly looks so. Put it in the oven, girl, and then you can be giving me a hand in cutting up this ham.”
After sending up a brief, silent prayer that her bread would turn out well, Clover put it in the oven. She had made bread a few times in Langleyville, but always with help from the cook and the housekeeper.Her first attempts here had been dismal failures, good for nothing more than chicken feed or hogs’ slops. She needed one success to bolster her badly sagging confidence, some sign that, with perseverance, she could be the partner to Ballard that she so badly wanted to be.
“Well?” she pressed as Molly carefully tasted the first slice of bread.
Molly took another bite and finally nodded. “It be nearly as good as mine,”
