Читать книгу The Scandalous Proposal Of Lord Bennett - Raven McAllan - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Why, oh why, did she feel the need to goad him? Clarissa pulled the bell rope. It was answered by a fresh-faced young girl, who carried a jug of what Clarissa presumed was ale, and another she saw was wine.

‘I’m sorry as you had to wait, M’Lady, but what a commotion outside.’ The girl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Everyone’s telling each other what ought to be done and only His Lordship seems to have any common sense, my mama says. The food will be along ever so soon.’ She bobbed a curtsey.

As soon as she could get a word in edgeways, Clarissa asked for their soup and pies to be held back, and for a small – she emphasised small – collation to be brought at once. Why Ben had agreed on hot food she had no idea, for the day was warm, and cold meats and salads would have been much more preferable.

Once the girl had returned with glasses, with yet another reiteration that the food was nigh on ready, Clarissa poured herself a goblet of wine, sat in a roomy and remarkably comfortable chair, and picked up her book. She took a sip of wine, and then another before she placed the goblet on a side table, and shuffled around to make herself more comfortable. Then she opened the book and began to read.

The warmth of the sun, which now shone directly through the window, the smooth, rounded taste of the wine, and her lack of sleep the night before began to take their toll. The words blurred on the page in front of her and her eyelids drooped.

‘Well, what have we here? Briar Rose? Should I awaken you with a kiss?’

Clarissa struggled up from her slumber. What was she doing dreaming of fairy tales? Why was Ben in her dreams? Or why did the hazy, attentive, faceless man who had wooed her in them now have a face, and a deep, smooth voice that curled around her like velvet?

The soft pressure on her cheeks made her open her eyes. Ben’s face was only inches away from hers.

‘I knew the kiss would do it? Shall I show you how?’ He moved closer and pressed his lips over hers. Clarissa opened her mouth to protest, as his eyelids closed, and he lifted her out of the chair and sat down with her on his lap.

Something pressed into her buttocks and she wriggled to dislodge it.

‘Stay still woman and kiss me back.’

Before she was able to utter a word, his tongue slid between her teeth and pressed on her tongue.

Her body tingled and goosebumps appeared on her arms as fast as urchins at a farthing scramble. What was he doing?

‘Kiss me back,’ he mumbled the words into her mouth.

Clarissa shut her eyes. How on earth did one kiss a man on the lips?

Easily she found. His hands stroked her neck and her arms as he held her close. Almost of its own volition, her tongue sought his and began to play.

Her skin was on fire and she stirred restlessly.

Why was he holding her fast? She needed to move to assuage the strange feelings that invaded her body. Her feet dangled and she stretched to get a toehold.

Ben lifted his mouth. ‘My dear, do you know what you are doing?’ His breathing was as erratic as Clarissa’s. ‘For a first kiss that was memorable.’

‘If it was our first kiss, no doubt.’

‘If you continue to encourage me so, I’ll take you up on your invitation.’ He slackened his grip, and set her on her feet. ‘What do you mean “if”? Are you saying we’ve kissed before, or it wasn’t a kiss?’

‘Whichever you think fits.’ Me and my big mouth. Clarissa staggered and he shot his arm out to steady her. ‘Ignore it.’ Why didn’t she sound cool, collected and in command? ‘I issued no invitation. You, you plundered and took.’ It was hard to remain calm when her bosom heaved, and her private places stung as if a bee had alighted. No wonder it was known as a woman’s honey pot. However, even in her agitated state she noticed the way he kept glancing at her chest. What was that part of a woman’s anatomy called other than breasts or chest, she wondered? Did men have a private name for those mammaries?

Once, she noticed a secret smile playing around his lips, and she itched to ask him what was funny. Only the thought that he might say ‘you’ stopped her.

‘I did indeed,’ he said at last, just before her temper got the better of her. ‘And believe me I enjoyed every second of it. No …’ He put his finger over her lips. ‘Silence is needed.’

Clarissa managed – just – not to bite his digit or, heavens above, suck it into her mouth.

‘Say no more. I have news for you, with regards to our carriage.’

She looked at him closely. Had his face taken on a greyish tinge? Or was it because the sun had gone behind a cloud?

‘It’s ready?’

He shook his head. ‘Sadly, no.’

Those pesky spiders were back in force.

‘Then shall I ring for the soup and pies?’ She was pleased how well she kept her voice level. ‘I assume we will have time to eat before it is repaired?’

‘Oh yes.’

Why did he stare at her so closely?

‘We have plenty of time,’ Ben said. ‘The wheelwright informs me it will be tomorrow before a new wheel is fashioned and fitted.’

Clarissa sat on the nearest chair with a thump that jarred her teeth.

‘Repeat that, please?’ she said faintly. ‘Slowly.’

‘Tomorrow, hopefully soon after breakfast. We may, if all goes well, get to the lodge before nightfall.’

She shook her head. He was jesting, surely? The wary look in her eyes told her he wasn’t. The spiders grew bigger and scrambled for a better place to torture her.

‘So, until then? What will we do?’

She mistrusted the gleam in his eyes. It was time to show she was no wallflower. ‘I, of course, have my book. So once we have eaten, I’ll let you do whatever you need to. Rest assured, you don’t have to worry about your need to entertain me, sir.’

He grinned. The grin she had seen from afar when he honed in on a usually willing woman to dally with.

‘Oh my love, believe me it will be no worry. I look forward to,’ he paused, ‘entertaining you. Ah.’ The door opened and the landlord and his wife bustled in with laden trays. ‘Refreshments.’

‘’Tis all here, M’ Lud.’ Blevins, the landlord, supervised the positioning of the bowls and platters. ‘And your bedchamber is ready if you need to freshen up. The one at the end of the corridor. The best room M’Lud.’

He ushered his wife out of the room.

Clarissa cleared her throat.

Ben pulled back a chair. ‘May I assist you?’

‘Room?’

He nodded and didn’t meet her gaze.

‘Room, my lord? As in room, singular?’ No wonder he looked anywhere but at her.

‘It seems the inn is full.’ Ben sliced a golden-crusted pie in half and inspected the contents. ‘Ah, chicken. May I help you to a slice?’

‘Then, yes, thank you, a small slice. I have a notion my appetite is about to desert me. Pray continue.’

‘Continue?’ He contrived to look almost bewildered. ‘What was I saying?’

‘Exactly.’ She spoke in a crisp, concise manner. ‘Continue. Resume. Carry on. Proceed. Shall I refresh your memory? I believe you were about to explain the lack of an “s” on the word room.’

‘We are lucky. Due to my rank, the landlord has rearranged the sleeping quarters. We now have his best bedchamber, and the young buck who was in it is relegated to the second best and so forth. The poor soul who was in the last room may well be in the stables or with the pot boy.’

‘Then I assume you’ll be in the pigsty,’ Clarissa said with studied indifference. ‘As I have no intention of sharing my room with anyone, let alone a man who snores after imbibing.’

The look on his face was incredulous. He put down the tankard of ale he held and stood over her.

Oh lud, have I taken one step too far?

‘Then rest assured, my love,’ he said and tilted her head upwards by dint of holding her chin, ‘I won’t imbibe and you can enjoy my … presence without fear of losing sleep.’ He paused and bent his head so his breath feathered over her ear. ‘At least not due to my snoring.’

****

Ben couldn’t help but gain a modicum of pleasure from the way his wife’s eyes widened and she visibly gulped. He was, he reckoned, not a cruel person. Although something about the way she stood up to him impressed him, it also annoyed him. A little bit of wifely adoration could surely be injected into her speech occasionally? He didn’t think he was that uninspiring, but nothing he said or did stopped her in her tracks. Except, maybe …

He began to plot.

‘Eat your pie, my dear. You’ll be glad of the sustenance, later.’

She sputtered on the mouthful of pastry she’d just taken and began to choke. Crumbs sprayed everywhere as she coughed. Her eyes watered and her face turned red.

Ben was alarmed. He only meant to tease her, not harm her. He patted her back with one hand, took up his jug of ale with the other, and held it to her mouth.

‘Drink.’ His tone brooked no argument. To his utter relief she did as he asked.

‘Th … thank you.’ She sputtered and coughed again. ‘No, no more, I beg you. Ale is never my drink of choice.’

He picked up the wine. She paled.

‘Not if you want me coherent.’

Ben laughed. He was enjoying himself. ‘Coherent is not necessary. Not comatose is. Drink.’

Her eyes narrowed, but she took a small sip.

‘Satisfied, my lord?’

‘Not in the slightest, my dear. However, I’m sure I will be’ – he paused, and drank some ale – ‘later.’

Clarissa put the goblet onto the table very carefully. Ben watched her warily as her hand tightened around the base and then relaxed. He had an inkling that she rather wished it were his neck it circled and compressed.

He waited for a retort or a query. None came. She walked her fingers through the air over the array of cakes and picked one up. ‘Ah, marchpane. My favourite. This is an excellent collation, don’t you think, my lord? To get it as perfect as this shows such a high standard of housewifery. And the napkins. Exquisite embroidery. They are a credit to the trade. ’Tis no wonder this is such a popular place. How did you manage to bespoke this private parlour?’

She chatted on in such a hostess-y way that Ben wanted to laugh. He deduced by the gleam in her eyes she spoke in that manner on purpose.

‘Money,’ he said.

Her lips twitched.

‘How satisfactory it is that you have enough for such niceties. Perhaps as you are so generous with your largesse on their behalf, I can ask her for the recipe for the fancy cakes? Apart from which, I must remember to congratulate the landlord and his wife. What is their name? I do think praise should be given when it’s due, don’t you?

‘Indubitably, my dear. And I hand it to you in copious amounts. That is so well done, I have no fear whatsoever that the role of my lady has not been filled to perfection.’

To Ben’s delight she put the cake back on the plate uneaten and giggled. The giggle turned into full-blown laughter, and her shoulders heaved. Tears ran down her face once more, but he could tell by her expression they were tears of helpless enjoyment, not due to choking. His heart became lighter to see this hidden side of his wife. Ben realised he’d done little over the past months to try to see her as anything other than a chore.

Eventually she lifted the starched square of linen provided as a napkin and wiped her eyes.

‘I wonder if you’ll think that once the novelty has worn off?’ she said, somewhat cryptically.

‘It’s no novelty,’ Ben said. She didn’t look as if she believed him. ‘Our marriage is permanent and for ever. It won’t become a habit, or discarded once the newness has worn off.’

‘Hmm, if you say so, my lord.’ She sounded even more sceptical.

Ben had the uneasy feeling that what each of them expected from marriage didn’t mesh.

‘However, there is one thing we need to get straight now,’ Clarissa said in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

Ben didn’t think he’d like her next sentence.

‘Do not for one minute think you’re sharing my bedchamber tonight.’

He was correct. He didn’t.

‘Clary, love,’ he began.

She held her hand up. ‘If there is something else guaranteed to make me not agree with whatever is asked, it is to call me Clary. However, even if you call me by my given name, or any other designated salutation, the answer is the same. No. Now, if you will excuse me. I think I shall retire. Alone. Immediately.’

And no doubt lock and bolt the door. Things were going from bad to worse.

Ben looked at the long case clock in the corner. ‘It’s only four in the afternoon.’ She obviously hadn’t realised that. They’d eaten between mealtimes due to their enforced delay. ‘Would you accompany me for a walk? He looked at her feet. They were clad in sensible half boots of soft kid, which were obviously designed for comfort on the journey. ‘I’ve changed horses here on many an occasion and if we go a little way up the lane across the road there’s a pretty view over the valley. It would do us good to stretch our legs.’ It might also give them a chance to talk again in a sensible, rational manner.

She tilted her head to one side. ‘Let me freshen up.’

****

Half an hour later, Clarissa allowed her husband to tuck her arm in his and accompanied him down a grassy lane out of the village. The late afternoon sun was warm enough for her to carry a lightweight shawl and not wear anything heavier over her travelling dress. She might not be enamoured of her marital status, or the stories told to her about her husband by every gossip in the ton, but she still had no intention of appearing anything less than her best. Her deep blue dress suited her complexion, and the lighter blue shawl lifted the outfit to be suitable for the weather.

Clarissa enjoyed walking, and even if the pace Ben kept was a little too slow for her liking, it was good to stroll along, smell the grass, and listen to the birds. Across to her right cattle lowed, and she guessed it was milking time. Although she rarely admitted it, Clarissa could milk a cow as well as any milkmaid, and the pleasure of drinking the milk, while it was still warm and frothy, was one she relished.

As they rambled together, chatting about the hedgerow flowers – Ben was remarkably well informed – and the agreeable weather, Clarissa realised it would be all too easy to forget her worries, and keep this peaceful interlude going. However, she had never been someone to shy away from unpleasant things or let them drift. The sleeping arrangements had to be settled.

‘My lord,’ she said. ‘We need to talk.’

‘My lady,’ Ben said. ‘Now we are wed, I’m sure it is quite permissible for you to call me Theodore, or, as I would prefer, Ben.’

‘Hmm.’

‘For the love of all things holy.’ Ben almost shouted the words. ‘Stop saying hmm. Please, I beg you. Say no or maybe or what on earth are you saying. Not hmm.’

Clarissa’s mind went into overload. What? She realised ‘hmm’ was her ‘I have no idea what to say’ word.

‘What on earth are you saying?’ she asked desperately. ‘I am at a loss. Except in the matter of my sleeping accommodation. I will not …’

‘Share – yes, I understand,’ Ben said and the disheartenment in his voice was easy to hear. ‘But, my love, hear me out. Perhaps if I promise to put a bolster between us? If I give you my oath not to go under the sheets, please can I at least rest my body on the mattress?’

His voice was so serious that Clarissa stopped walking and turned to him. ‘Why?’

Ben shrugged. ‘Oh, so many reasons. Pride? Certainly. Worry you will not be protected? Most definitely. The need for sleep? Oh yes. But most of all, I have a need to be near you. Why?’

He held her shoulders lightly with his fingers. His touch set off the strange tingles deep inside her once more. This close she could smell his clean, fresh, but still distinctly male, scent. It would have been oh so easy to lean into him, and ask him to show her all the things that made a maiden a woman. But what then? Clarissa had no intention of accepting a husband at his whim, and she was certain Ben had no intention of bucking the trend of society marriages and forsaking all other women. As much as she might want him, and it seemed she did, she had never been prepared to share things that mattered. Once she and Ben were a couple in every sense, that would be what she wanted. As it was as likely as she copying Lady Godiva, Clarissa intended to hold back until …

Until? She couldn’t answer that.

‘I cannot define the emotions within me that say I have to take care of my wife,’ Ben said seriously. It wasn’t a tone of voice he was renowned for. In Clarissa’s memory the only other time she’d heard such solemnity and determination was when he’d announced she was his wife-to-be.

‘Even if it is to make sure no one accosts you. This might be a safe village, and an inn of good quality, but one must still be vigilant. In all seriousness, Clarissa, I would not consummate our marriage in a common inn. You – we – deserve more than that. It will be for protection only.’ He grinned. ‘And to save me from the stables or worse.’

How could she resist the little-boy smile or the puppy-dog eyes? No full-blooded woman could.

‘Perhaps. I will think it over. If I do allow you into my room, then we will have to lay down some ground rules.’ Neither of them mentioned the fact that, in actuality, as his wife, Clarissa couldn’t bar him.

‘Thank you,’ Ben said soberly, and raised her hands to his lips. Instead of very properly kissing the gloved back, he slid the fine cotton down her hands and off her fingers. As she stared in astonishment at the dark, sun-teased curls on his head, he put the glove inside his jacket, turned her hand over and kissed each finger very slowly, before he pressed a final salute into the centre of her palm.