Raven McAllan - The Scandalous Proposal Of Lord Bennett

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.

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