Hannah Howell by Kentucky Bride

not been a very large man. Clover jumped nervously when Ballard suddenly took her small, trembling hand between his two big, callused ones.
    “Are ye thinking of bolting, wee Clover?” he asked in a soft voice.
    “The thought is lurking in the back of my mind,” she admitted.
    “Weel, ye just keep a tight rein on it until this spindly old preacher has done his business.”
    She stiffened her resolve, squared her shoulders, and nodded. “I will do that Mr. MacGregor.”
    “That is a good lass. Weel, let us go and make ye Mrs. MacGregor.”
    It was done. They were married.
    Clover sipped from a glass of sweet red wine and struggled to quell yet another attack of nerves. She heartily cursed the fact that she could not stop thinking about the wedding night ahead. It did not help that, ever since the preacher had left, there had been a distinct gleam in Ballard’s eyes. Clearly the wedding night was just about all he was thinking of.
    “And is that not just like a man,” she mused to herself with an inward grimace. Ballard had made it abundantly clear why he wanted a wife. She had no right to be cross. In truth, she suspected a lot of men got married just to bed their wives. Liaisons could be dangerous, causing scandal or worse, and she suspected there were men who were not fond of using the whores who seemed to proliferate wherever there was coin and the men to spend it.
    A sudden commotion in the front hall yanked Clover from her musings. Someone had just slammed open the front door and was approaching the parlor with loud, angry strides. She gasped when Thomas burst into the room. He was the very last person she had expected to see at her wedding.
    “Just what the hell are you doing, Clover?” he demanded as he strode over to the settee where she sat with Ballard.
    Stunned, Clover could only stare up at the furious man before her. “What did you say?”
    “I heard all about it in town and simply could not believe it. Clover Sherwood would never wed some ruffian from the backwoods, I said, but I now see that I was wrong to trust in your good judgment, young lady. Why have you done it?”
    “I needed a husband,” she replied in a soft voice, wondering why he was so upset.
    “So you grabbed the first stranger who passed by? I know things are bad for you right now, Clover, but to hurl yourself at some ruffian like a common doxy?” He shook his head. “To sell yourself like some
whore—
”
    Thomas’s words ended in a squeak and Clover found herself gasping yet again. Her new husband was suddenly on his feet. Ballard grabbed Thomas by his crisp white shirtfront and lifted the startled man off the ground.
    “I think ye have said more than enough, laddie,” Ballard said through clenched teeth.
    “Unhand me, you barbarian! Do you know who you are dealing with?”
    Clover leaped to her feet and placed a hand on Ballard’s arm. She was alarmed at the pure rage twisting Thomas’s handsome features and the fury brightening Ballard’s eyes. She quickly composed herself, for clearly a calming influence was needed. She sent Ballard a silent plea for peace. Her family had suffered enough scandal. She did not want a brawl in her front parlor on her wedding day.
    Ballard read the plea in Clover’s wide eyes and fought to control his anger. He had a strong urge to beat the fair-haired young man he held to withinan inch of his life. The ferocity of his anger surprised him. With a murmur of regret he did not mean, he set the flushed Thomas back on his feet, though he did not leave Clover’s side. He disliked allowing the man to get away with his insults and did not intend to let him deliver any more.
    “I should like to speak to Clover alone,” Thomas said in a haughty voice as he readjusted his clothes. “Come along, Clover.”
    When Thomas took her by the arm, Ballard tensed. “Just a moment cannot hurt,” she murmured.
    She could see by the taut set of Ballard’s features that he did not like it at all, but he