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 areso 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! Icannot 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 impetuouswords. 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 wastryingto 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 andfears—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.”
