Raven McAllan - The Scandalous Proposal Of Lord Bennett

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.’