Rebellious Desire

Chapter Nine

"Someone tampered with the wheel," Bradford told Milford as soon as they were on their way. "It was meant to come off."

"You've been making enemies again, Brad?" Mil-ford inquired. He wasn't smiling now. Caroline was safely inside her home and he could show his concern and anger. "We could have been killed."

"Whoever is out to get me doesn't concern himself with details," Bradford commented. "Caroline's an innocent in this and I won't have her placed in further danger."

"What do you plan to do?" Milford asked. His frown of concentration matched Bradford's own.

"I'll find out who's behind this and deal with him," Bradford predicted. "But until I have my answers, I won't see Caroline. As far as everyone is concerned, we are no longer involved."

"You'll explain it to her, won't you?" Milford asked. He agreed with Bradford that he should avoid Caroline's company until the threat was over. But he also thought of Caroline's feelings and how the separation would affect her.

"No. It's for the best that she also believe I've lost interest. Otherwise she won't be very convincing. It's imperative that everyone believe or she might be used as a lever against me."

"And Braxton? Will you speak to him?"

Bradford shook his head. "No, he might break down and confide in Caroline."

"Where do we start?" Milford asked. "The sooner we find the man, the better. With Harry do you suppose?"

Bradford nodded. "And I'll also talk with my friends in the War Department."

"When this is finished, you'll have a new war on your hands," Milford decreed.

They both said her name together.

The next two weeks were unbearable for Caroline. At first she simply refused to believe that Bradford had deserted her. She used every excuse, every argument imaginable, until the night that she came face to face with him at Almacks and Bradford looked straight through her, as if she didn't exist. She had to accept the truth then. It was over.

Charity was outwardly more upset than Caroline. She ranted and raved that Bradford needed a good horsewhipping. And she inadvertently caused Caroline additional pain by telling her all the gossip concerning Bradford's notorious activities. The Duke of Bradford was back in circulation, supposedly bedding most of London's females. He was seen each night, and with a different woman on his arm. He was back to his old ways, gambling and drinking to excess. Everyone, including Charity, believed that Bradford was having the time of his life.

After her encounter with Bradford at Almacks, Caroline declined all further invitations. She stayed home night after night. She wrote a long letter to Caimen, pouring out her heart, but after Deighton had it sent off, she regretted her impulse. The letter would only cause her cousin worry, and there wasn't anything he could do to help her.

The Earl of Braxton had no idea of the strain Caroline was under. She always greeted him with a ready smile and seemed perfectly content to him. He accepted her excuse that she was tired of the constant round of parties and wanted to stay home to concentrate on Charity's wedding plans.

Caroline kept up the deception for her father's peace of mind. She realized her relationship with the earl was superficial at best but she only wished to protect him from worrying about her. He asked about Bradford often, and each time Caroline told him that the relationship had ended.

On Monday morning a letter arrived from Boston. It was filled with the latest news and laced with a multitude of questions concerning Charity and Caroline's activities. Uncle Henry gave his approval for his daughter's marriage and included a request for Benjamin to return to Boston as soon as possible. They were all in dire need of his direction with the new horses recently purchased and the seven foals born last spring.

Benjamin was eager to return. Caroline could see it in his eyes. "You're homesick, aren't you?" she teased.

"I don't know how we'll manage without you," Caroline's father remarked. "We'll go back to starving," he added. He left them alone then to see to travel arrangements.

Caroline didn't know how she would manage without Benjamin either, although she kept that worry to herself.

"We've been through it together, haven't we?" he asked Caroline.

She smiled and said, "That we have." She couldn't resist hugging him. "I'll never forget you, friend. You were always there when I needed you."

The following Monday, Caroline accompanied him to the harbor. The earl had provided a fine wardrobe for Benjamin and had included a heavy topcoat.

"Do you remember when you found me in the barn?" Benjamin asked when they said their farewell.

"It seems a century ago," Caroline answered.

"You're on your own now, child. I'll stay if you ask me to," he added. "I owe you my life."

"As I owe you mine," Caroline returned. "Your future is in Boston, Benjamin. Don't worry about me."

"If you ever need me-" Benjamin began.

"I know." Caroline interrupted. "I'll be fine, really."

She wasn't fine, of course, and cried all the way home.

It was difficult not to wallow in self-pity. Caroline did her best to maintain a cheerful disposition. The first snow covered London and still she did not hear from Bradford.

She accepted an invitation from Thomas Ives and accompanied him to a dinner party given by Lady Tillman. It was a boring evening but by going she pleased her father.

The next day she paid her uncle Milo a visit. Franklin hadn't arrived yet, and she and the marquis had a pleasant conversation. He had heard that Benjamin had left for Boston and asked her to explain her relationship to him.

"I found him in the barn one morning," Caroline said. "He was a runaway and had made it all the way from the Virginias." Caroline didn't give any more details, and her uncle was forced to prod her into telling him more.

"Your father said that he became your protector. Is Boston such a wild and savage land then?"

Caroline laughed. "I believe you have described me, not Boston. I was constantly in mischief and Benjamin was always there, seeing to my safety. He saved my life more than once."

Uncle Milo chuckled. "Very like your mother," he commented. "But what about Benjamin? Can he be taken back to the South? Aren't there men who search out runaways for a price?"

Caroline frowned. "It is true, there are men who make their profit by hunting slaves, but Benjamin is a freed man now. Papa, I mean Uncle Henry, sent Caimen to buy his papers."

Franklin arrived then and immediately mentioned Bradford's name. Caroline schooled her expression and informed her uncle that she was no longer seeing the duke. That association had ended.

"Then you think to return to Boston?" Franklin inquired.

Caroline was mildly surprised by his question, wondering how he had jumped to such a conclusion. Uncle Milo was infuriated over his brother's remark. She had never seen him so distressed! It took almost an hour to convince him that she had no intention of leaving England, and she was finally able to soothe him.

Franklin then explained that he had heard rumors that she was going back to Boston and that Caroline's father had decided to marry the Tillman woman. According to the gossip, the earl was going to take his new bride and tour all of Europe before settling down with her in the country.

Caroline had just spent a good deal of time calming her uncle Milo, and Franklin's renewed challenge infuriated her. She told him that his remarks were ridiculous. With the situation in France brewing again, her father wouldn't venture outside of England. "My father isn't going anywhere."

"Well, if he does, you will move in with me," Uncle Milo announced. He glared at his brother, obviously waiting for some sort of argument.

"A splendid idea," Franklin returned. The subject was then dropped.

When Caroline returned home, she found a letter addressed to her. She picked it up from the hall table and went into the drawing room. She was thankful that she was alone, for when she read the horrid message inside, she let out a loud gasp of outrage. The first paragraph was filled with vile, hateful remarks about her character in general. The next paragraph was more specific. The push down Claymere's steps wasn't meant to kill her, only frighten her. And so was the carriage accident. She would die, the writer promised, all in due time. Destiny would be fulfilled, revenge gained! The letter ended with several terrifying descriptions of just how she would be killed.

Caroline didn't know what to do. She put the letter back in the envelope and hid it in her wardrobe. She wished with all her heart that Benjamin hadn't left! And then she got hold of herself and questioned Deighton for a description of the person who had delivered the letter.

Deighton knew nothing about the letter, nor did any of the rest of the staff. Caroline hid her alarm and her motives, saying only that she had found the letter on the hall table and wondered who had sent it. She explained that the letter wasn't signed.

Deighton was upset over the breach in conduct. It was his duty to see the door opened, and someone had dared venture into his territory! He insisted that the door was always locked and felt that one of the maids had opened it without his permission. And now the guilty party wouldn't own up to it.

Caroline left Deighton to his ramblings and went back upstairs. "I'll bet Marie accepted the letter and is too afraid to admit it. She's always roaming around this house," Mary Margaret muttered. "Hasn't done an honest day's work yet. The food is back to being terrible now that Benjamin has left. The stupid woman didn't learn anything! I think Deighton should let her go."

"Don't be so harsh," Caroline admonished. She was thinking about Marie's family, Toby and Kirby, and knew that the cook was doing the best job she could. "Show a little more patience, Mary Margaret. Marie needs the work. I'll have another talk with her soon," she promised when it looked like her maid was going to protest again.

Caroline found herself exasperated with the petty problems she was forced to handle. Someone was out to kill her and she didn't have the faintest idea why, and yet the daily routine of running a household seemed to take precedence.

She decided not to tell her father about the letter just yet. If he realized the danger she was in, he might ship her off to Boston again, and while that thought held a certain appeal, Caroline realized she would be running away. It would also mean leaving Bradford, never seeing him again. That didn't really signify, she told herself, because Bradford had made it perfectly clear that he was through with her.

There wasn't anyone she could talk to. Telling Charity was out of the question because she would tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. And she would be frightened, too, just as Caroline's father would be. His past comments regarding his reasons for sending her to his brother fourteen years ago told her that much about his character. He had said that he wanted her safe, and Caroline surmised that she had somehow become a pawn in the political game her father was involved in. Bradford had told her that the earl had been considered a radical back then, and Caroline sensed that she somehow became caught in the middle. It was the only conclusion that made any sense to her.

For one long week she kept her own council. Sleep eluded her and she became withdrawn.

She turned down a multitude of invitations and jumped at the slightest sound. The only time that she ventured out of the house was for her ritualistic visits to her Uncle Milo.

The earl questioned Caroline about her odd behavior and accepted an invitation on her behalf from Milford to attend the theater. He argued with his stubborn daughter until she finally agreed to go.

Caroline determined to see the evening through, in order to please her father. She was both eager and sad to see Milford. She liked him and enjoyed his wit, yet every time she thought of him, she was reminded of Bradford.

She dressed with care in a mint-colored gown. Mary Margaret curled her hair and threaded a ribbon through the heavy arrangement. Lack of sleep made Caroline irritable, and the pins pinched and poked until she was ready to scream.

"Mary Margaret, we've over an hour before Milford arrives. Fetch your scissors," Caroline stated in a voice that didn't suggest an argument. "I've seen how you trimmed Charity's hair and I would like you to cut mine. Now."

Caroline was struggling out of her gown as she spoke and pulling pins out of her hair at the same time. "Hurry, Mary Margaret. My mind is made up. I'm sick of carrying all this weight around."

Mary Margaret picked up her skirts and raced out of the room. Caroline ignored the girl's muttered remarks and took a good look at herself in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders and glared at herself. "You've been pitiful long enough, Caroline Richmond."

Charity walked in and heard Caroline talking to herself. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"As of this minute, I'm taking charge," Caroline announced. "Remember telling me I'm not a sitter?"

Charity nodded with a wide grin. "Then you're going after Bradford?"

Caroline shook her head. "No. But I have decided on several other issues," Caroline hedged. "I'll explain it all next week," she promised. "You'll have to trust that I haven't lost my mind."

Charity nodded though she did look confused. Mary Margaret rushed back into the room while Caroline forced Charity out. "Mary Margaret and I have work to do. I'll be downstairs directly."

The maid absolutely refused to cut more than an inch off Caroline's hair and was quite determined until Caroline snatched the scissors out of her hand and began to clip it herself.

The maid gasped and quickly got into the spirit of things. And when she was done, she smiled a sheepish grin and admitted that Caroline looked quite spectacular. Gone was the heavy mass of waves, replaced by soft, curly locks that ended just below her ears. When Caroline moved her head, she felt such freedom that she laughed.

"Well, it feels wonderful," Caroline told the maid.

"And you look wonderful," Mary Margaret said. "Your eyes have grown to twice their size and you look most feminine, my lady," she continued. "You will cause a rage."

The haircut made Caroline feel better. "Now if I can just get through this evening, I do believe I will be able to conquer anything."

Mary Margaret frowned over the remark but Caroline didn't explain further. Milford was early, and by the time Caroline had redressed and pinched some color into her cheeks, she had kept him waiting some time.

Milford stood in the center of the entry and watched Caroline come down the steps. He immediately noticed her hair and made several complimentary remarks about her appearance. He thought that she looked more beautiful than ever but also noticed the fatigue. She obviously wasn't getting enough sleep.

When they were settled in his carriage and on their way to the Drury Lane Theatre, he smiled at Caroline. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Pumpkin?"

"Pumpkin? You've never called me that," Caroline replied.

Milford shrugged. "Are you getting along well?" he asked. His look was filled with compassion and Caroline bristled inside. Was he feeling sorry for her? she wondered. She grew exasperated just thinking about it "No one has died, Milford. You needn't look so intense. And I'm getting along just fine."

"Bradford isn't getting much sleep either," Milford commented.

"Don't mention his name to me!" Caroline demanded. She realized she had yelled and immediately lowered her voice. "Promise me, Milford, or I will get out of this carriage and walk home."

"I promise," he hastily answered. "I'll not say another word about… you know who. It's only that I thought you should be aware of certain-"

"Milford!" Caroline's voice shook. "I don't want to know anything about him. It's finished. Now," she said with a weary sigh. "Tell me what you have been up to. Have you been brawling again?"

It was a struggle to keep the conversation light. Caroline's nerves were reaching the breaking point, and by intermission she was exhausted from trying to appear happy. The play was mediocre at best and there was quite a crowd gathered in the lobby between acts. Caroline kept smiling until her face felt like a mirror that was about to shatter into a thousand fragments. She thought that she saw Bradford across the lobby and her heart lurched in reaction. The man turned and it wasn't Bradford at all, but Caroline's heart continued to beat a mad rhythm, and it became more difficult than ever to maintain her composure.

She and Milford stood in the middle of a crush of people, and Caroline then realized what a foolish mistake it was to be out in public like this. She provided an easy target. She thought again about the horrid letter and shivered. Just then someone accidentally pushed Caroline and she whirled around, a look of stark terror in her eyes. She quickly changed her expression and smiled.

She wasn't quick enough. Milford observed the change in expressions and was clearly astonished by her behavior. "What's the matter with you?" he asked when he had pulled her off to one side.

Caroline's back was to the wall and she visibly relaxed. She shook her head, admitting to herself that she couldn't deal with the crowd or the noise a minute longer. "It isn't safe," she whispered. "I think I would like to go home now."

Milford hid his alarm. Caroline's face had lost all color and she looked ready to faint. He waited until they were back in his carriage and on their way to her father's townhouse before he opened the topic again. Caroline was seated across from him, her hands folded in her lap.

"Caroline? Tell me what you meant when you said it wasn't safe."

"It was nothing," Caroline answered. She looked out the window, hiding her expression. "Do you plan to attend Stanton's affair next week?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Her ploy didn't work. Milford took hold of her hands and applied gentle pressure. "Look at me, Caroline."

She was forced to comply as Milford kept tugging on her hands. "Why wasn't it safe?"

He wasn't going to give up. Caroline sighed and felt her shoulders droop. "Someone is trying to kill me," she whispered.

Milford's mouth dropped open and he was quite speechless. He let go of her hands and leaned back. "Tell me," he finally commanded. His tone sounded as unbending as Bradford's when he gave an order.

"Only if you'll give me your word to keep this confidence," Caroline demanded. Milford nodded and Caroline continued, "I didn't fall down Claymere's steps. Someone pushed me. And the accident with the carriage wasn't an accident at all."

Milford was looking so astonished that Caroline found herself rushing on in order to convince him that she hadn't gone daft. "A letter arrived last week, and it was terrible, Milford! Someone hates me and vows to kill me. I don't understand who or why," she ended.

Milford let out an exclamation. His mind raced with questions and thoughts. "Do you still have the letter? Who have you told about this?" He didn't wait for Caroline to answer either question but asked another. "What does your father think? And why in God's name did he allow you outside?"

He was working himself up into a fit of anger. Caroline chose to answer the last question. "My father isn't aware of the threat."

Milford shot her a look of disbelief and Caroline hastened to explain. "I believe he sent me away fourteen years ago because he was frightened. I won't allow that to happen again, Milford. His last years will be peaceful and happy. It's his right!"

"I don't believe this," Milford muttered. "Someone is out to kill you and you tell me you won't allow your father to become upset! Lord, Caroline, you should be thinking about yourself now."

"Please calm yourself, Milford," Caroline said. "I have decided on a specific course of action and you needn't worry about me. I am capable of looking after myself."

"What course of action?" Milford asked, almost absentmindedly. He was impatient to get her home so that he could find Bradford and tell him what he had learned. He completely ignored the promise to keep Caroline's confidence. Dear God! And they had both believed that Bradford was the intended victim! Milford kept shaking his head with astonishment and growing anger. He realized how alone and unprotected Caroline was and knew that Bradford would be completely undone by the truth. He certainly was!

"Well, I had thought to hire investigators." Caroline began to outline her plan. Just saying the words made her feel more in control of the situation. "I will send off requests for immediate interviews the first thing tomorrow morning. And then I thought that I would-"

"Don't tell me any more," Milford interrupted. His mind was racing with possibilities and he wished for a moment's quiet to sort them out.

Caroline looked crestfallen over his remark. She realized that she was burdening him with her problems and had no right to do so. "I understand," she said. "I don't blame you, Milford. The less you know, the better off you'll be. I apologize for making you frown, and I do believe it would be best if you stayed away from me until all the trouble has passed."

Milford's eyes widened and he almost laughed. "And why is that?"

"Well," Caroline returned, "there is a possibility that you might be injured. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm not sure but I believe you have just insulted me," Milford announced.

He didn't look like he was upset over that possibility and was now grinning at Caroline. "Ah, we are home at last. I'll be in touch tomorrow, Caroline."

"Why?" Caroline asked. "I have just explained that you should stay away from me."

Milford rolled his eyes heavenward, deposited Caroline inside the house, and took his leave.

It took over an hour to locate Bradford. Milford could hardly contain himself when he burst into the gambling hall and spotted his friend sitting at one of the tables with a large sum of money in front of him. Bradford looked bored with the game and with the men who surrounded him.

Milford made his way over to the table and leaned down to say a few words that no one other than Bradford was able to hear. Bradford's bored expression vanished. To everyone's astonishment, he let out a roar of fury, stood up with such quickness that he overturned both his chair and the table, and then, without a word of explanation or a moment's pause to collect his winnings, followed Milford out the door.

He listened to Milford recount Caroline's story and then stated that he was going to see her. "It's past midnight, Brad. You'll have to wait until tomorrow," Milford argued.

Bradford shook his head. "Now," he stated. "Drop me off at Caroline's and go on home."

Milford knew when it was pointless to argue. He agreed, and promised that he would send his carriage back to take Bradford home.

Deighton opened the door to Bradford's insistent banging. "It's good to see you again, your Grace," the butler announced with a formal bow.

"Tell Caroline that I wish to speak with her," Bradford returned.

Deighton opened his mouth, about to protest that Lady Caroline was probably sound asleep, but the look on the duke's face changed his mind. He nodded and quickly went up the steps. Caroline was in bed but was still wide awake. When Deighton announced who was waiting for her downstairs, Caroline immediately guessed why. Milford! He had obviously gone directly to Bradford and told him the confidence she had shared. "Please inform his Grace that I don't wish to see him," Caroline told Deighton. "Deighton?" she called as he started down the hall. "Is Father home yet?"

"Yes," Deighton answered. "He retired over an hour ago. Did you wish me to wake him?"

"Heavens no," Caroline said. "No matter what, Deighton, Father is not to be disturbed." Deighton nodded and continued on his way.

Caroline shut the door and slowly walked over to the window. The hardwood floor felt cold against her bare feet. She knew that Deighton wouldn't have an easy time of it getting rid of Bradford, and she fully expected that he would force the butler to try and coax her from her bedroom at least one more time.

When the knock sounded on her door, Caroline was ready for it. "Tell him to go away, Deighton."

The door opened and Bradford filled the space. "I'm not going anywhere." He stood there, looking so incredibly handsome, and Caroline felt an instant reaction. Her legs began to tremble and she had trouble catching her breath. Her eyes filled with tears and she told herself it was only because she was so exhausted.

Bradford stared at the vision of loveliness before him while he fought the urge to slam the door shut and take her into his arms.

Caroline finally found her voice. "You mustn't be here, Bradford. It isn't proper." Her voice sounded hoarse.

Bradford smiled. "You're going to have to accept that I'm never proper," he said. His voice sounded like a tender caress. Caroline was hypnotized by it and by his gaze, burning a path from her toes all the way to her head.

Bradford slowly walked into the room. He closed the door and Caroline heard the click. He had locked them both inside. Caroline's heart skipped a beat and she tried to summon up some anger and outrage. She couldn't do either and stood there as still as a statue, waiting for Bradford's next move.

"This is either a nightmare or you have completely lost your mind," Caroline finally said. "Unlock that door and leave, Bradford."

"Not yet, my love." His voice was filled with tenderness. He started toward her and Caroline immediately backed up. Bradford watched her grab her robe and put it on.

He was mildly surprised that she wasn't screaming at him. He had treated her poorly and although his motives had been quite respectable, Caroline couldn't be aware of that. He had publicly scorned her. Why wasn't she throwing things?

Caroline continued to stare at him. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind but she wasn't able to catch a single one. She was, for the first time in her life, completely overwhelmed.

Bradford stopped his advance when he was directly in front of Caroline. He reached out and gently caressed the side of her face with his hand.

"Don't." It was a whisper of pain. Bradford noticed that his hand shook when he let it drop back to his side.

She took another step back while Bradford searched his mind for a way to make her react to him. "I've missed you, Caroline."

Caroline couldn't believe what she had just heard. She shook her head and started to cry. Bradford took hold of Caroline and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry, love. God, I'm sorry," he whispered over and over against the top of her head. His hands couldn't quit touching her, stroking and petting and hugging her against him. Caroline continued to cry, accepting the comfort he offered.

Bradford lifted her chin and used his handkerchief to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "It's been hard on me, too," he admitted in a whisper.

He placed soft kisses on her forehead and then her nose and finally settled on her mouth. Caroline finally gathered her wits and pulled away.

"Why has it been hard on you?" she asked.

Bradford sighed, wishing he could just continue kissing her instead of explaining. He spotted the rocking chair and walked over to it, pulling Caroline with him. When he was settled and comfortable, with Caroline firmly held on his lap, he smiled with contentment and then began, "Promise me that you'll not interrupt until I have finished."

Caroline nodded, her expression solemn. "I thought that someone was after me. When the carriage overturned and I saw that the wheel had been tampered with, I realized that whoever wanted me dead didn't care who else he took along. I therefore decided to-"

"Why did you believe that someone was after you?" Caroline interrupted.

"You promised to wait until I was finished," Bradford reminded her. "It was my carriage that was tampered with, Caroline, and my coachman who was hit over the head. It was a logical conclusion."

"It was an egotistical conclusion," Caroline interjected.

Bradford shrugged, thinking to himself that she was probably right. "Regardless, I decided to pretend to end the relationship so that everyone would think I had lost interest in you. That way," he said, raising his voice when Caroline opened her mouth to protest, "I could be sure that you wouldn't be used or harmed."

"But why didn't you tell me?" Caroline demanded. She had finally found her temper. Just thinking about the agony he had put her through made her furious.

Bradford saw the change overtake Caroline and braced himself for her wrath.

"You don't have to answer that," Caroline stated in an angry whisper. "I know the reason. It was because you didn't trust me." She removed herself from his lap and stood in front of him. "Admit it, Bradford."

"Caroline, I only wanted to protect you. If I had confided in you, then you might have told someone and put yourself right in the middle." Bradford thought he sounded very logical. His argument made perfect sense to him.

Caroline obviously didn't agree. She glanced about the room, and Bradford thought she might be looking for a weapon.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have kept the information to myself?" Caroline argued.

"No," Bradford admitted. "And even if I had trusted you in the matter, it wouldn't have worked. You wear your feelings on your face, love, and everyone would have known that you weren't a woman rejected." Bradford reached out and tried to pull Caroline back into his lap. She eluded his grasp. "Caroline, I only had your best interests at heart."

"You mistake my anger, Bradford." Caroline's voice had a chill to it. "When will you learn that I'm not like other women? And when will you decide that you can trust me? You can't possibly form a lasting attachment without trust."

She stood before him, a look of disgust on her face. "You are forever grouping me with the ladies of your past. And I am good and sick of it."

"Sweetheart, you're yelling." Bradford's mild comment infuriated Caroline. "And if you wake your father and he finds me in here, he'll demand that I marry you immediately."

Caroline let out a gasp and Bradford nodded. "Good," Bradford remarked. "I have no desire to be wed tomorrow. Saturday is soon enough, what with all the arrangements to be made."

Caroline couldn't hide her astonishment. "Haven't you heard a single word I've said?"

"I have," Bradford answered. "And I imagine that the entire household is also hearing every word. Now be a good girl and give me the letter. The bed is too close and you are too much of a temptation."

"Lord, I trusted Milford," Caroline muttered in a furious whisper. "I should have known better. If he calls himself your friend, then he's no better than you are."

"The letter, Caroline," Bradford insisted. He stood up and stretched and then started toward her. "Give me the letter and let me decide what is to be done about it."

"You aren't going to decide anything," Caroline announced. "And I'm not going to marry you this Saturday or a year from Saturday. You don't know the meaning of the word love," she declared. "If you did, you would consider my feelings. And you would trust me."

"Caroline, if you say the word trust one more time, I believe I'll strangle you."

The look in Bradford's eyes told Caroline he was more than capable of doing just that. She backed away from him. "Please leave now. We've said enough to each other."

"I agree," Bradford returned. He was frowning now and Caroline thought he really was going to leave. Until he sat down on the edge of the bed and calmly, methodically removed his jacket and then his boots. Then Caroline had to revise her conclusions.

"What are you doing?" Caroline rushed over to the bed and tried to stop him from removing his socks. "You must leave."

"I'm through talking," Bradford told her. He dropped the second boot and grabbed Caroline. She was suddenly on her back, with Bradford looming over her. "I've missed kissing you, Caroline." And then his lips were clinging to hers, forcing her mouth open. Caroline tried to get him to stop, and her struggle became more insistent when his hips settled against hers and she felt the hardness of him against her.

Bradford continued to plunder her mouth, draining her of her resistance. She felt so soft against him, so incredibly good. His hand caressed her breast beneath the thin material and he let out a groan of sheer pleasure.

Caroline wasn't sure just how it happened, but she was divested of her robe and the buttons of her nightgown were opened before she could summon up enough strength to try and stop Bradford.

She pushed against him with her hips, heard his moan, and realized that she was probably giving him pleasure instead of pain. Bradford trapped her legs by using his heavy thigh to restrain her and then lazily kissed a path down the column of her throat.

She fought him with her hands but Bradford wasn't deterred. His mouth continued the gentle torment with burning insistence. He reached her breast and didn't hesitate, taking the erect nipple completely into his mouth.

Caroline again moved her hips against him but the reaction was a sensual, primitive motion she was hardly aware of. She sighed in surrender and arched her back for more.

His mouth continued to worship one breast as his hand caressed the other. "Bradford!" Caroline whispered, so lost in the erotic feelings he was causing that she could barely speak at all.

Her nightgown was around her knees and Bradford pushed it farther up as he stroked the sensitive skin. When his hand slid between her legs, Caroline instinctively tried to block his advance. Bradford used his knee to force her legs apart and silenced her protests with another passionate kiss.

His fingers found her then and Caroline thought she would die from the pleasure he forced on her. His breathing was harsh with desire. "I'll never get you out of my blood, Caroline. I can feel you tremble, love." He kissed her again while his fingers stroked the moist softness that beckoned him.

He sought only to give her pleasure, to show her a portion of the excitement and passion they would share together, and knew he had to stop. He was losing his control.

Bradford groaned and rolled over onto his back. He clasped his hands behind his head and took several deep breaths and tried to think of something other than the warm body next to him. "We will be married this Saturday." His voice was harsh but he couldn't control it. He was angry, but only with himself.

Caroline felt like she had just been thrown into a snowbank. She only wanted to wrap her arms around Bradford and beg him to continue his lovemaking.

She knew she had to remove herself from the temptation and quickly scooted off the bed. Her legs were trembling and she had to hold on to the poster. "I don't understand how you are able to do this to me," she admitted. Her voice sounded weak. Bradford watched her, saw the confusion in her gaze, and smiled.

"Your passion matches mine," he told her. His voice was soft and gruff. "And you aren't sophisticated enough to control it or use it against me."

"Like your other women?" Caroline's voice was deceptively calm. Bradford wasn't fooled by it, saw the fire in her eyes. She was thinking about killing him again, he surmised with a sigh. He sat up just in time to catch the boots Caroline threw at him, and tried once more to placate her, thinking to himself that the damnedest things upset her.

"I haven't had any other women," Bradford stated. He meant to continue, to tell her he hadn't touched any other female since their fateful encounter on the isolated country road. But Caroline turned her back on him while she put on her robe.

"The letter, please," he asked again.

She walked over to her wardrobe and took the letter from its hiding place. Then she slowly walked back over to Bradford and handed it to him.

There was a knock on the door. Caroline's eyes widened. "Get off my bed," she whispered a little frantically. She brushed her hair back from her face and hurried over to the door, her trembling fingers giving her trouble with the lock. She finally managed to open the door to find the Earl of Braxton, dressed in his nightshirt, robe, and slippers, standing there with a bewildered look on his face.

"Oh, Papa, did we wake you?" Caroline's voice shook and she thought she was going to faint from embarrassment. She turned and found Bradford right behind her. Both his boots and his jacket were back in place and Caroline said a prayer of thanksgiving for that.

"Good evening," Bradford said to her father. His expression was bland, and Caroline realized he wasn't at all concerned over being found in her bedroom. The man must certainly be used to this sort of thing, she thought with building fury.

"Good evening?" Caroline echoed with disbelief. "Bradford, is that all you can say?" She gave him a fierce look and then turned back to her father. "Papa, it isn't at all what it appears. You see, I wouldn't go downstairs and he"-she paused to give Bradford a quick glare-"was so stubbornly insistent that-"

Bradford interrupted her comments by taking hold of her and dragging her to his side. "I will handle this," he remarked in an arrogant tone. Caroline looked up at him and then back to her father. Poor Papa! His expression had gone from bewildered to furious and was now decidedly confused again.

"I would appreciate a few minutes of your time, Braxton, if it isn't an inconvenience at this late hour."

The earl gave a curt nod. "Give me a minute to dress," he stated. "I'll meet you downstairs directly."

"That would be fine, sir," Bradford said when Caroline's father continued to stand there. He waited, applying gentle pressure on Caroline's shoulder, a subtle hint for her to keep silent. The earl started down the hall and Bradford closed the door.

Caroline was so upset over her father's reaction, his look of disappointment, that she only wanted to cry. "Bradford!" She sounded like a screeching hen.

"What the hell have you done to your hair?" Bradford took Caroline into his arms and kissed her.

"Oh, no you don't," Caroline said as she pushed against his chest. "You're getting me off balance again and I won't have it. We still haven't settled anything! I haven't told you how despicable you are. We are completely unsuited to each other. You are-"

He kissed her again and her puny struggles didn't deter him at all. Only when her struggles ceased did he soften his mouth, his hold on her. "Caroline, you look terrible. Haven't you been sleeping? Get into bed now, you need your rest."

"Not on your life," Caroline replied. He had her firmly anchored against his chest and she was speaking into his jacket. "I'm going downstairs with you. God only knows what you'll say to placate my father. I have to be there to defend myself."

Bradford's answer to her demand was to pick her up and carry her to the bed. He dropped her in the center and pushed her down on the pillows. "I'll take care of everything," he said in a soothing voice. There was a sparkle in his eyes when he added, "Trust me."

He kissed her again, a quick brotherly peck on the side of her cheek, and then walked over to the door.

"Bradford, this isn't finished," Caroline called after him.

Bradford opened the door. His back was to her but she could hear the smile in his voice. "I know, my sweet. It's about time you understood that."

Caroline was off the bed and running before Bradford had the door closed. "You won't tell him about the letter, will you? He'll send me back to Boston if you do. I won't have him worried," Caroline stated emphatically.

Bradford shook his head and let his exasperation show. He started down the hall when Caroline had a sudden, horrible thought. She grabbed Bradford by the edge of his jacket. "If he demands a duel, don't you dare agree."

Bradford didn't answer her. He continued walking, with Caroline trailing behind. "And just what am I supposed to do?" she asked. She realized she was still pulling on his coattail and immediately let go. The man was making her act like an imbecil.

She simply had to get hold of herself, she thought, even as she heard herself repeat her question. "Well, what am I to do?" She was referring to the letter and her father's wrath but couldn't form the explanation in her brain to tell him so.

Bradford was taking the steps two at a time while Caroline watched him, clutching the top of the banister rail. "You might try growing your hair before Saturday," Bradford called over his shoulder.

All the bluster went out of Caroline with Bradford's ludicrous remark. She sat down on the top step and put her head in her hands. What in God's name was happening to her? She needed to be in control, she told herself. She needed order in her life. She would straighten this mess out, she told herself as she made her way back to her room.

So he was once again in her life, she thought with a sigh. It was a mixed blessing, having him pursue her again. Her heart was glad for it but the logical, unemotional part of her knew that the problems continued to exist between them. Unless she could find a way to teach him how to love, how to trust her enough to give her his love, then the future looked bleak indeed. She believed that she was nothing but a pretty bit of goods to Bradford. How long would the attraction hold him? How long before he grew bored with her and turned to someone else? He had called it a game, and Caroline was beginning to believe that was all it was to him. She couldn't marry him yet. She wanted to share her life with a man who would love her when the beauty had faded, when wrinkles of time lined her face.

It wasn't an impossible dream. Her uncle Henry and aunt Mary loved each other more now, after years together. And Charity and Paul Bleachley loved the same way. Caroline remembered that Bradford had believed that Charity would turn her back on Paul because he was no longer handsome.

She didn't know if she could change his attitude. He had been raised in a superficial society where looks seemed to count above all else.

What kind of marriage would it be? Would she begin to fret over her appearance, worry about her figure, her clothing? Would all that she had always considered insignificant become uppermost in her mind? Dear God, would she change so much that she would start to giggle and swoon at the drop of a hat, like Lady Tillman?

Caroline shook her head, trying to stop the ridiculous notions rambling through her mind. She got into bed and tried to sleep. At least, she consoled herself, she had admitted that she couldn't marry him. "Until he is suitable," she whispered the promise into the darkness. And then she cried herself to sleep.