Rebellious Desire

Chapter Eleven

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Caroline's worry about being embarrassed when she faced her guests never became a reality. By the end of the weekend, when she and her husband finally emerged from their bedroom, all the guests had taken their leave.

"We have been terribly rude," Caroline told her husband over dinner that night. Her grin told him that she wasn't too upset over her behavior, and he found himself laughing.

Bradford had made travel arrangements for a suitable honeymoon, but he and his new wife never got as far as the front door during the bliss-filled days and nights.

Caroline quickly adapted to her new life and took over the responsibilities of running the huge house with relative ease. Henderson, Bradford's man, and Mrs. Lindenbowe, the housekeeper, helped show her the way.

Bradford, Caroline found, wasn't as easy to run. In fact, she told herself on numerous occasions, he wasn't an easy man to love. His temper rivaled Mount Vesuvius when he became angry, but the verbal explosions were quick to end. Caroline always stood up to him, giving as good as she got, and slowly came to accept the fact that their relationship would always keep her on her toes.

She waited with growing frustration to hear her husband tell her that he loved her. She believed, in time, that the walls Bradford had erected around his heart would dissolve and he would allow her to see his vulnerability.

He was, without a doubt, the most stubborn man in the world. She learned, over the course of the following weeks, that there were certain subjects he didn't care to discuss. And his family topped the list.

Patience was never one of Caroline's strong points, but she managed well enough, thinking that her prize would be worth the strain. In time, Bradford would trust her with his heart.

Caroline was sorry when they had to return to London. The occasion was Charity's wedding, which would certainly be festive, but she hated for their honeymoon to end. She told Bradford just that and he laughed, hugging her close to him inside the cozy carriage on their way back to the city. "It's possible to make love in London, sweetheart. Lord, I believe I've made you quite wanton."

"Are you sorry for it?" Caroline asked with a smile.

Bradford's answer was to lift her onto his lap and show her just how unsorry he really was.

Caroline had never seen Bradford's townhouse and she found it quite comfortable. It was large and masculine, cluttered with heavy, old-fashioned, leathery furnishings that indicated male territory.

The large canopy bed in Bradford's room had thick drapes that were tied back during the day. Caroline tested the mattress while Bradford readied himself for dinner. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she untied both drapes. She was hidden from view but her throaty laugh told him she was enjoying herself. "It will be toasty in here," she called out to him. "Nice and warm."

Bradford walked over to the bed and pulled the curtain aside. His bare chest glistened from his bath. Caroline smiled up at him and stretched out on the covers. She clasped her hands behind her head, imitating his habit, and gave him a slow, seductive wink.

"Have you ever been cold in my bed?" Bradford demanded. His voice was laced with amusement, a mockery to the ferocious frown he displayed.

Caroline was dressed only in a robe and one thigh was exposed for her husband's view. Bradford's gaze slowly traveled the distance between her head and her toes and when he was again looking into her eyes, the amusement was gone.

"You entice me, Caroline," Bradford said. His voice had taken on a gruff edge.

"Is there time?" Caroline asked in a breathless whisper, a reaction to Bradford's hungry look. She undid the tie to her belt with a bewitching smile that only intensified Bradford's desire, struggled out of the confinement, and reached out for her husband.

Bradford didn't decline the invitation. He stripped out of the breeches he had just put on and stretched out beside his wife. Caroline waited for him to take her into his arms, and after a long minute she realized he waited for her to turn to him. She laughed, a joyful, uninhibited sound that brought a smile to Bradford's face, and settled herself on top of Bradford.

And then she began to weave her magical spell upon his body, transforming him from the controlled, disciplined Duke of Bradford into the wild warrior that lurked just beneath his skin.

Bradford allowed the sweet agony until he felt himself ready to explode. His voice became harsh then with his demand that she put an end to his torment.

Caroline ignored him and continued to drive him to the point of no return.

Bradford let out a warrior's cry and Caroline suddenly found herself flat on her back. "I will show no mercy," he growled against the corner of her mouth. And then he began to pleasure-drug her until she was begging him to have done. He grimaced with satisfaction and the pain building inside his loins, pulled her back on top of him, and entered her with a deliberate thrust that ended all the teasing, all the enticing.

Caroline threw her head back and emitted a low moan that Bradford answered with another and another thrust. They both found their release at the exact instant.

Caroline felt as if she was in the center of the sky, with Bradford holding her safe. She slowly floated back to reality with a satisfied smile.

Her head rested against Bradford's chest and she listened to his heart beat against her own. She waited until his breathing had slowed and then whispered,

"I love you."

It had become a ritual, telling him that she loved him as soon as they had finished their lovemaking, and as always, she waited to hear him say the words to her. She knew that she could demand it, and probably get her way, but she wanted the admission to come from Bradford's heart.

Bradford squeezed Caroline and sighed with satisfaction. It was his only acknowledgment that he had even heard her declaration, and Caroline once again accepted that he wasn't ready yet.

She forced the sadness out of her expression and propped herself up on her elbows to gaze into his eyes. "Let's stay here the rest of the night."

"A notable suggestion," Bradford answered with a grin. "But your family will probably demand an explanation. Will you tell them what kept us or shall I?"

Caroline promptly blushed. "A gentleman wouldn't talk about such things," she said. "I suppose we better get dressed then."

She tried to move off of Bradford but he held her steady. "Not yet, Caroline. I think we should go over the arrangements one more time."

Caroline rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. "I know them by heart, Bradford. I'm not to leave your side during the ball, not to run off anywhere with Charity, and if anything happens and you must leave my side, then I am to be glued to Milford until you return."

Bradford nodded, his expression serious. Caroline smoothed his brow with her hand. "Please don't worry, Bradford. The men you hired haven't come up with a single clue. Besides, I told you that it was probably some vindictive female who wanted you for herself and thought to scare me off."

Now it was Bradford who showed his exasperation. "So this alleged lady pushed you down a flight of steps, sawed through the wheel of my carriage, and then wrote you that letter? This is your suggestion?"

"Not a lady, Bradford, a woman. There is a distinct difference. And it makes sense to me. She could have hired someone to tamper with the carriage wheel."

Bradford kept his thoughts to himself. His wife was such an innocent, and he didn't wish to alarm her over the information he had gathered. It was his duty to protect her from harm and he didn't want her to be frightened, only cautious. Until the trap was closed, the proof complete, she wasn't going to be out of his sight. She belonged to him now, and anyone who dared touch her wouldn't live to tell about it.

Bradford was quiet while he dressed. Caroline kept getting in his way, and when he paused in his duties to tell her that her bedroom was right next to his, and that she could dress with ease in there, his wife openly scoffed and told him in no uncertain terms that separate bedrooms were not to her liking.

"I will not allow Henderson in here to assist me with you running around without your clothes on," Bradford growled.

Caroline stood in front of the oval mirror, brushing her hair, unimpressed with his comment. "Well?"

"You're no longer a boy, Bradford. You can dress yourself now. I have been doing so for years."

"Your maid grumbles over it."

"Mary Margaret has enough to do without chasing me around."

Bradford gave up the argument and went downstairs to wait. He paced the confines of the receiving room, a cognac in hand, and brooded over the evening ahead. He had almost declined the invitation to Clavenhurst, the Marquis of Aimsmond's grand home, because of all the difficulties of keeping Caroline safe in such a large crowd. He couldn't decline, of course, for the marquis was Caroline's uncle and would be hurt if she didn't attend.

The ball had a dual purpose. Charity and Paul were to be married in two days and the affair was a prenuptial celebration. It was also given in honor of the Duke and Duchess of Bradford, the first affair that he and Caroline would join as husband and wife.

Caroline appeared in the doorway, dressed in a shimmering gown of ice-blue silk, and found her husband leaning against the mantel of the fireplace. His ferocious frown slowly eased, replaced by an arrogant look that puzzled Caroline.

She made a dramatic curtsy, a sparkle in her violet eyes that mimicked the color of her gown, and then smiled when Bradford lifted his cognac in a salute.

"You were frowning just a moment ago and now you look very pleased with yourself," Caroline remarked. And most handsome, she thought to herself. He was wearing formal black and when he stood away from the fireplace, he looked terribly big and powerful again. Caroline wondered when his appearance would cease to cause the quickening of her pulse. Just looking at him made her muscles tighten with a yearning to have him take her into his arms.

Caroline had never been much good at hiding her thoughts, and Bradford knew exactly what she was thinking. "If you continue to look at me like that, we won't be going anywhere," Bradford remarked. He placed his goblet on the mantel and slowly walked over to stand before his wife. His blood had started to feel uncomfortably warm, his clothes were becoming too confining, and it was all because his beautiful wife had given him that special look. He couldn't resist taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly.

With a sigh of reluctance, he helped her with her winter cape and called for the carriage. They would be late as it was, and the sooner the evening was done, the sooner he could hold her against him again.

The Earl of Braxton was hovering just inside the entrance of the marquis's home and embraced Caroline before she could even get her cape off. "I've missed you, Daughter," her father announced. He pulled her aside and whispered in a voice loud enough for Bradford to hear, "Are you happy, Caroline? Is he taking good care of you?"

Caroline smiled. "I am very happy, Father." She didn't continue with her admissions, knowing full well that Bradford was listening to her. If she told her father how truly happy she was, how content, her husband would be impossible to live with. Humility wasn't one of his strengths, and his ego would grow to new heights.

Charity and Paul then claimed her attention, and then Uncle Franklin, with his wife beside him, entered the conversation.

The Duke and Duchess of Bradford made a grand entrance into the ballroom and immediately made their way over to their host. Uncle Milo was sitting near the entrance, and Caroline could see that he was already fatigued. He started to stand but Caroline shook her head and immediately sat down next to him.

Bradford left Caroline with her uncle, after giving her a hard look that she interpreted to mean that she wasn't to wander off. The marquis admitted that he was tired, but only from the excitement. He winked at Caroline and whispered that he hadn't done anything to ready the party. Franklin and Loretta had seen to everything.

Caroline held his hand and listened to him explain his activities of the past weeks. She was content to sit by his side for the rest of the evening if it gave him pleasure to have her there, and declined several invitations to dance.

When Uncle Milo asked her in his blunt manner just when he could expect an addition to the family, Caroline laughed. "We have not discussed it," she admitted to him. "When it happens," she added. "I don't even know how many children Bradford wants."

"I would like to live long enough to hold your first child," the marquis told her.

"I would like you to live forever," Caroline whispered in return. Her remark pleased her uncle and he squeezed her hand with great affection.

Bradford stood with Milford across the room and couldn't keep his gaze off Caroline. Milford tried to lead his friend into several topics of conversation and finally, when he could get little response, let his exasperation show. "The king is divorcing his wife and moving to France next week," he commented.

Bradford nodded agreement and continued to stare at his wife. "She's not going to vanish, Brad. For God's sake, man, get hold of yourself." Milford started chuckling and whacked Bradford on the back, jarring him out of his preoccupation.

"She isn't wearing any jewels."

Milford showed his confusion over the remark, turned to look at Caroline and then back to his friend. "She's wearing your ring," he remarked.

"She would never take it off." The arrogant comment made Milford smile.

"Bradford, why are we discussing jewelry?" he asked.

Bradford shrugged and finally gave Milford his full attention. "Have you learned anything else regarding my problem?" he asked. He was referring to the investigation concerning Caroline's enemy, but there were too many people close enough to overhear.

"Our problem and yes, I did find out something I think significant."

Bradford gave a curt nod. "We will discuss it later, after dinner."

Across the room, Caroline assisted her uncle to his feet and handed him his cane. She had spent over an hour with him and he was now content. He kissed her good-bye, after she had promised three times to visit him the following afternoon, and then made his way to the foyer. Caroline walked beside him, nodding acknowledgments to those who called out to her.

"Will you be able to sleep with all this noise?" Caroline asked him.

"I sleep like a baby these days," Uncle Milo stated. "Go now and enjoy yourself, my dear. I'll be refreshed and eager for our visit tomorrow."

Caroline stood with her hands folded and watched her uncle slowly make his way up the steps. When he was out of sight, she turned, thinking to find Bradford, but Rachel Tillman, with her fiance, Nigel Crestwall, intercepted her.

Rachel was quite aggressive about gaining Caroline's attention. She grabbed her by the arm in a grip that actually hurt. "You must be terribly satisfied with yourself," Rachel said, Caroline was so surprised by the vehemence in her voice and the painful lock on her arm that she could only look at the woman in astonishment.

"See how innocent she pretends," Rachel said to Nigel. Her voice sneered the remark and Caroline was quite horrified by it.

"Rachel, what are you talking about?" Caroline demanded. She jerked her arm free, glancing around a little frantically for her husband.

Rachel misinterpreted her glance and said, "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to ruin your lovely party. And it was such an honor to be invited. I just wanted you to know that I'm not fooled by you. You've ruined everything. Everything!" Rachel grabbed hold of Caroline's arm again, digging her nails into the skin. "You'll pay for it, bitch. Just you wait and see."

"I have never beaten a woman before, have I, Milford?" Bradford made the casual remark from behind Rachel's back and so he couldn't see the look of outrage on her face. "But if you don't remove your hand from my wife's arm immediately, Miss Tillman, I believe you will be the first."

Rachel jerked her hand away with a vengeance that pushed Caroline back a step. She glared at Nigel, as if placing the blame on him for Bradford's unnoticed advance, and then turned and walked into the ballroom. Nigel had to run to keep up with her.

Caroline watched their retreat with building anger. Milford was the first to comment on her change in expressions. He took hold of Caroline's arm and began to rub the angry marks away. "You're supposed to react during a confrontation, not after," he said with a grin.

Caroline looked from the grinning Milford to her scowling husband. "I am always slow to react," she said. "Bradford! Rachel hates me. She said that it was all my fault."

"What is?" Milford inquired.

Caroline shrugged. She noticed that several people were staring at her and quickly removed the frown. "I have no idea."

"We're going home. Milford, see to her while I call for our carriage."

"We are not going home," Caroline stated. "I'll not run from the likes of Rachel Tillman. And I have promised to meet-"

"You aren't going to meet anyone." Bradford's voice was getting harsher and Caroline drew herself up, bristling inside.

She was not about to leave. Her father would be disappointed, as she hadn't spent any time with him, and she had promised to have a confidential talk with Charity after dinner. She didn't explain any of that to Bradford but only whispered, "You haven't even danced with me yet."

"That's true, Brad," Milford interjected. He continued to smile, even when the duke and duchess both gave him disgruntled looks.

"Fine! We will dance and then take our leave." Bradford took hold of Caroline's elbow and pulled her toward the ballroom.

Caroline smiled, realizing that she had just won a small victory. "Thank you, husband," she said, trying not to gloat.

"One dance," Bradford insisted as they joined the set about to begin.

"Yes, Bradford."

Her mild acceptance didn't fool him for a minute. As soon as the dance ended, Milford suddenly appeared and demanded the next set with Caroline as his partner.

Bradford reluctantly agreed. His mood improved when he saw that Rachel and Nigel were taking their leave. He didn't want another encounter tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Then he would have a short discussion with the vile woman and get some answers.

Caroline danced with most of London and was quite exhausted by the time the midnight dinner was finished and the dancing resumed. Bradford was content to watch his wife. He even found himself smiling a time or two over the stir his beautiful wife was causing. She held herself with a dignity and confidence that pleased him. And twice, when he least expected it, she turned from her partner and smiled at him.

Bradford noticed that Terrence St. James was always hovering near his wife, and so was a buck named Stanton for that matter. He kept his patience and added them to his growing list of dandies he would have to have a short talk with.

"You're frowning again, Brad. Still thinking about Rachel?"

Bradford shook his head. "Just watching the studs lusting after my wife," he remarked. He sounded bored but Milford knew, from the look in his friend's eyes, that he was irritated. "I will talk with some of them before the night is over."

Milford shook his head. "You'll have to speak to every man here," he commented. "Look, Caroline is following her father onto the dance floor. She'll be fine for a few minutes. Now would be a good time to have our discussion, don't you agree."

Bradford nodded and followed Milford out of the room. He paused, long enough to put the fear of God in Stanton's eyes, and then continued. Milford was acting very nonchalant, but the fact that he had brought up the matter of his information twice now told Bradford it wasn't just another false lead. They found the marquis's study, stared the couple who had sought a moment's privacy out of the room without exchanging a single word, and then shut the door.

Caroline finished the set with her father when Charity rushed up to her with breathless anticipation. "Uncle, if you will excuse us, Caroline and I would like to have a word together."

Caroline meekly followed her cousin across the room. "This alcove affords enough privacy," Charity declared. She held her spectacles in her hands and put them on when she was seated next to Caroline. "I had thought we could talk on the balcony but we would freeze, of course."

Caroline smiled and patted her cousin's hand. "Don't be nervous, Charity. In two days you will be married to the man you love and everything will be wonderful."

"Is it wonderful?" Charity whispered the question and then frowned over it. "I do wish Mama was here. I'm frightened about… well, you know what about, and I have grave misgivings."

"Charity, it will be fine." Caroline felt vastly superior and then recalled how frightened she had been on her own wedding night. She felt herself blush. "Paul doesn't expect you to know how," she explained with growing embarrassment over the topic. "And it is really quite nice."

Charity smiled. "I do like it when he kisses me," she admitted. "And I know that you wouldn't lie to me. If you say that it is wonderful, then it must be."

Caroline smiled, hoping that Charity wouldn't ask specific questions, and was thankful when her cousin stood up and removed her spectacles. "You've made me feel so much better."

Charity disappeared in a flutter of pink satin, no doubt in search of her intended, and Caroline had just stood up when the tall and lanky Terrence St. James appeared and begged her for a moment of her time.

Caroline declined the invitation. It wasn't at all proper, as the alcove completely hid them from the view of the crowd. Besides that fact, Caroline didn't want to talk to the dandy. His looks didn't conceal his attraction for her and she was irritated by it. She was, after all, a married woman!

"I only wanted to ask your permission to meet while you are here in London," St. James stated. "Now that you are married, a diversion…"He shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence undone.

Caroline couldn't believe the man's gall. "I will ignore your insult this time," she said. Her voice was as frigid as the look in her eyes, and she pushed her way past him with a shiver of disgust.

"But you do not understand," Terrence whispered behind her.

Caroline pretended she hadn't heard him, spotted her father in a group across the room, and immediately threaded her way to his side.

She contained her anger, thinking that she understood exactly what the odious Englishman had in mind. She decided to speak to Bradford about the disgusting morals of some of the men she had encountered and then put the matter aside.

Caroline spent several minutes looking for Bradford after a short dance with Paul, and he suggested that her husband might be in the library. Caroline went off in that direction. She had already told her father that she was tired and would be leaving soon. Now all she had to do was collect her husband and be on her way. Rachel Tillman and Terrence St. James had both put her in a pensive mood and she only wanted to leave the noise and the frivolity. Most of all, she wanted to be held by Bradford.

Caroline wasn't aware that Terrence trailed her until she had knocked on the door to the library and opened it to peek inside. The room was empty and Caroline was about to turn around when Terrence all but shoved her inside and shut the door behind him.

"Get out of my way," Caroline demanded. She was angry enough to bring him to his knees and became more furious when St. James shook his head.

"I am extremely wealthy," he began. "I could give you-"

Caroline's patience was at an end. She pushed him out of the way and started toward the door when St. James's voice turned sour. "I'm really not wealthy at all," he remarked as he blocked her path. "And I'm being paid a considerable amount to put you in a compromising position. Your husband is a jealous man, my dear."

"Yes, he is," Caroline answered. She backed away, thinking to make her way to the desk and grab the candelabra to use as a weapon. "Jealous enough to kill you."

"Never with such a crowd," he returned.

"Why?" Caroline asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"The money, of course," Terrence returned with a negligent shrug. "Rachel will pay up tomorrow. She really is quite upset with you, my dear."

Caroline reached the desk and turned, but she wasn't fast enough. Terrence St. James was on her, twisting and turning her until her arms were pinned against her sides. His hold was steely with purpose. "I won't mind kissing you. You're quite delectable. It'll be worth a punch or two from your irate husband."

Caroline stood rigid in his arms. She no longer struggled but waited for her opportunity. Terrence's legs were far enough apart for what she had in mind and as soon as he relaxed, she would do just what her cousin Caimen had instructed her to do to break a man's hold.

"My husband will believe what I tell him," Caroline boasted.

Terrence shifted his legs and Caroline immediately put her right foot between his feet. The sound of voices reached both of them at the same instant. Caroline opened her mouth to scream and Terrence swooped down to silence her with his mouth.

The door opened just as Caroline was about to raise her knee and hopefully inflict excruciating pain upon her captor.

She wasn't given the chance. Bradford's rage proved quicker than lightning. Terrence St. James was ripped from his hold on Caroline and thrown over the desk with such speed that Caroline was dazed by it. She got out of the way just as Terrence's feet flew by her face.

Caroline couldn't see her husband's face, as his back was turned to her. He was watching St. James try to get back on his feet. Caroline turned to the door, where Milford stood, obviously blocking anyone's entrance. St. James finally stood up, only to be knocked back down with one powerful thrust into his midsection.

Caroline rushed around to Bradford's side and finally saw his expression. A chill of apprehension shot down her spine. He was looking at her and his face showed his outrage, his disgust, and his disdain.

"What are you thinking?" Caroline whispered the question and waited for her answer. "Be silent!"

The cold demand appalled Caroline. She was so undone by the anger in his voice and the look on his face that she started to cry. Dear God, did he actually believe that she had welcomed the horrid man's advances? She shook her head, denying it was true, denying that he could think so little of her.

St. James proved to be as stupid as he was greedy. He once again struggled to his feet. Bradford turned back to him, grabbed him by the throat, and with one hand slammed him up against the bookcase.

Terrence looked like a dangling puppet, straining against Bradford's hold while his face slowly turned a blotchy red. Caroline tried to push her husband's hand away, but without success. She turned to Milford and begged him to interfere.

"Don't let him kill him," she demanded.

Milford's answer was a shrug of indifference. Caroline brushed the tears from her eyes and turned back to her husband. "Bradford, you'll be hanged if you kill him. And he has yet to tell you what he was doing," Caroline argued.

"I know damn well what you were both doing," Bradford cracked back.

Milford did interfere then. "He isn't worth the trouble, Brad. Throw him out with the garbage."

"And just what were we doing?" Caroline asked. "Tell me, Bradford. Say what you're thinking."

Bradford's expression slowly changed until he looked almost bored. He let go of his captive and watched him crumble to the floor.

St. James wasn't dead. Caroline listened to his gasps for air as she waited for her husband to answer her.

"Brad, listen to your wife. Caroline, explain what happened here," Milford stated, trying to play the role of mediator.

"I won't explain anything," Caroline stated. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Her hands were clenched into fists, the only show of her anger. "You saw what happened. Draw your own conclusions. My husband already has his answers. Don't you, Bradford?" She started toward the door but Bradford stayed her with a light grip on her arm.

"I believe that you were innocent in this," Bradford finally said. His voice was clipped and still terribly cold. "Stay here until we're ready to leave. Milford? See to the carriage."

"You see to it," Milford returned. He wasn't about to leave Bradford with St. James. He knew, from the ramrod posture, that his friend wasn't completely over his fury yet.

Bradford muttered an explicit remark and left the room.

Milford walked over to Terrence and nudged him with his boot. "I suggest you crawl out of here before Bradford gets back."

Caroline stood in the center of the room, her gaze downcast, and St. James took a wide path to get around her.

Milford watched his departure and then walked over to Caroline. He put his hand on her shoulder to offer comfort and frowned when she jerked away.

"Tell me what happened," he implored. His voice was soothing, his aim to calm her.

Caroline shook her head. "You would only tell Bradford," she whispered.

"And would that be so terrible?"

His voice, so tender and caring, pulled at Caroline. She trembled and clasped her hands together in an effort to stop. She wouldn't allow the comfort Milford offered, knowing instinctively that any show of kindness would completely destroy her composure.

"I would like to go home now." She moved back another space when Milford tried to touch her again.

The agony in her tone shamed him. She held herself erect with dignity and her expression was controlled, but the pain still radiated in her tone.

"Bradford will be back in a minute," Milford said. "Caroline, he has just told you that he knows you're innocent. He's only angry with St. James."

Caroline shook her head, stopping Milford's explanation. "Not at first," she contradicted. "He believed the worst…"

"When he calms down-"

"I don't want to go home with Bradford." Caroline's statement interrupted Milford's earnest reply.

"That's too damn bad." The harsh remark came from the doorway, where the Duke of Bradford stood.

Caroline refused to look at him. She felt her cape being thrown over her shoulders and then she was hauled up against Bradford's side.

They didn't speak a single word to each other all the way home. Caroline used the time to calm her anger. She could feel Bradford's glare and still refused to look at him.

Her heart was shattered and she had no one to blame but herself. She was, she decided, a fool. He couldn't hurt her like this if she hadn't fallen in love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and was now feeling nearly destroyed because of it. His unreasonable jealousy and his distrust were both unfounded and so illogical that Caroline didn't know how to combat either, how to protect herself. She remembered how he had turned on her when Claymere had stolen the ill-wanted kisses the night of her father's dinner party. His wrath had been directed at her as much as at Claymere. Tonight she had witnessed that same look for the briefest of seconds. The fury had been directed toward her.

By the time they had arrived back at Bradford's townhouse, all Caroline wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom and cry. She felt like a wounded animal seeking a safe sanctuary.

Bradford watched Caroline start up the steps to the bedrooms and demanded that she follow him into the library to discuss what had happened.

Caroline just kept on going, completely ignoring her husband's order. She made it to her bedroom door before Bradford jerked her around to face him. "Didn't you hear me? Into the library!"

"No." Caroline turned, walked inside, and then shut the door in her astonished husband's face.

The door flew open and bounced against the wall. Bradford stormed inside and followed Caroline to the bed. His wife sat on the edge, her hands gripped together in her lap.

He stood before her, legs braced apart, hands on hips. Caroline looked up at his face, saw his angry expression, and let her own fury explode. "After tonight, I'll probably never speak to you again."

The vehemence in her voice infuriated him. "You'll explain why you were in the library with St. James if I have to beat it out of you."

"You wouldn't lay a hand on me." Caroline's quiet statement of her belief surprised Bradford, knocking some of the wind out of him.

"And how do you know that?" he demanded, though his voice had lowered in volume.

"You don't have to use your fists when your looks and thoughts can do so much more damage. And you would never hit a woman; it isn't in your nature."

Bradford admitted to himself that she was right. Empty threats wouldn't accomplish his goal. He decided to use calm reasoning. "Tell me what happened."

"If you'll answer my question, then I'll tell you everything," Caroline countered. "I already know the truth but 1 want to hear you admit it." She stood up and faced her husband. "When you first saw me with St. James, you believed that I had betrayed you, didn't you?"

"I know you had no part in-"

"That isn't what I asked," Caroline stated. "Answer me now. The truth, Bradford!"

He frowned and then shrugged. "It was a natural conclusion and yes, for just a second or two, I did believe that you had betrayed me. You said earlier in the evening that you wanted to meet someone. I realized that I had overreacted, however, and know that you're innocent of any deception."

Caroline's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "I was going to have a private talk with Charity," she returned. "She was the one I was meeting. Now I'll tell you what happened. I went looking for you. Paul suggested that you might be in the library and Terrence St. James followed me. Rachel is going to pay him for placing me in a compromising position. You see, everyone knows how jealous you are, everyone but your foolish wife! And St. James needed money. I actually boasted to him that you would believe me and not what you saw. I was mistaken." The last was whispered with a sob.

"Don't turn this around," Bradford snapped. "You specifically promised to stay by my side tonight. The first time I turn my back, you end up-"

"I was trying to find you," Caroline argued. "I've made a mistake."

"You're right about that," Bradford returned.

"My mistake was marrying you. My mistake was trusting you with my heart. My error was falling in love with you. But love and hate are twin emotions and right this minute I think I almost hate you. And it's all your own fault," Caroline ranted. "You're slowly strangling all the love right out of me."

She turned her back, on him then and began to get undressed, trying to dismiss his very presence in her mind.

When she had stripped down to her chemise, she tried to move around Bradford to go into his bedroom to get her robe, but he blocked her exit.

"Why are you frowning, Bradford? You should be gloating now," Caroline commented in a frosty voice. "Since the day we met you've been waiting for me to deceive you. You're so sure I'm like all the other women of your past, and I've just proven that you're right. I'm no better than a courtesan, am I?"

"What are you talking about?" Bradford demanded.

"You think it's your duty to protect me from myself, don't you? We poor females are so weak, and of course none of us have any morals to speak of. Why, we can't help jumping into bed with the first available man, can we? Tell me this, Bradford. How was I ever able to stay a virgin until our marriage?"

"Damn it, you're not making sense." He hadn't meant to yell, but she was getting too close to the truth for comfort's sake.

"England is a horrid place," Caroline whispered. "In all the years I lived in Boston, only once was I involved with such scoundrels! They were three drunk men and I was on the wrong side of town. But here, no matter where I turn, I'm assaulted, and threatened… and Dear God, it isn't just by strangers. My own husband assaults me with his horrible thoughts. I want to go home. I want to go back to Boston."

Caroline started to cry.

"Caroline, I've never hidden the fact that I have a quick temper."

"It doesn't do any good to yell at a deaf person or demand that a blind man see. Tonight I've realized you have your beliefs so firmly entrenched that nothing is going to change you. You aren't ever going to trust me with your heart. You aren't capable of it," Caroline said. "I should never have married you," she repeated.

"You weren't given a choice," Bradford remarked. He could feel himself getting angry again over her harsh remarks. That she dared to talk to him in such a way infuriated him.

He watched as Caroline got into bed and pulled the covers over her. She turned on her side, away from him.

"Kindly remove yourself from my bedroom," Caroline stated. She trembled, from cold and despair, and knew that it was just a matter of time before she crumbled and began to sob in earnest. All she wanted was to be left alone to her misery. Only after she had finished with the tears could she decide rationally what was to be done.

"You've got that backward, wife. God, but you're always getting everything backward," Bradford muttered. "You've no reason to be angry with me. I'm the one who found you in the library with that bastard. After you gave me your word that you wouldn't go off by yourself," Bradford continued. "You're too damn trusting, Caroline. And that's why you're always getting into situations you can't handle."

"I don't have anything backward," Caroline answered. She rolled over and glared at Bradford's back. "I'm finally getting it right. You're the one who explained that we have separate bedrooms. And this is my room, so get out. I don't want you sleeping next to me," Caroline railed. Hot tears burned her eyes as she added in a defiant voice, "I won't allow it."

"Allow? You won't allow?" His roar silenced Caroline. He turned, giving her the full impact of his fury, but Caroline was heedless to it now. "No one has ever dared to speak to me in such a manner! No one! Understand me, Caroline, I'm the one who allows in this marriage. Not you."

Bradford walked over to the bed, removing his shirt as he went. Caroline rolled onto her stomach. She felt the covers being jerked away, heard the bed creak from Bradford's weight when he stretched out next to her. Then her chemise was being tugged down over her shoulders and then over her waist and thighs and finally over her legs. She didn't move and only the slight tensing of the muscles beneath the smooth skin of her backside showed any reaction.

She waited, breath held in her lungs until she thought they would explode, for the attack that never came. Instead, she felt Bradford's lips brush against the nape of her neck. "I don't want you to touch me," Caroline whispered against the pillow.

"It doesn't work that way, wife. What you want isn't significant." Bradford's voice was harsh, unbending.

Caroline turned with such force that Bradford was jarred onto his side. Her face was just inches from his. They stared at each other a long silent moment, letting the anger each was feeling flow between them unchecked. Caroline forced herself to speak in a quiet voice. "Perhaps to the Duke of Bradford, my wishes aren't significant, but in this marriage bed, your power and your money mean nothing. In this bed, you are my husband. The public may be subservient to the Duke of Bradford but I'll never be subservient to my husband. Never! Learn to separate the title from the man, for I vow it's the only way this marriage stands a chance."

His expression showed his confusion, and Caroline felt like screaming to make him understand. "Leave the jealousy and the anger outside the door, along with your arrogance. Come to me as Jered Marcus Benton."

She whispered the last of her wish and rolled back onto her stomach, dismissing him. She knew he still didn't understand and her heart ached with regret.

He thought she asked the impossible. She spoke to him in riddles and he didn't have the patience to figure them out. He was the Duke of Bradford! And it wasn't possible to separate the title from the man. Damn! Didn't she understand that his title was his mantle? Was she trying to strip him of his value, his worth?

A nagging uncertainty pulled at him. Or did she try to strip him of his defenses? And if she succeeded, then what? Would there be anything left?

She demanded too much from him. And she didn't understand her own mind. She denied the power and the wealth and the position, yet those were the very reasons she had married him. Or were they? Could she really love Jered Marcus Benton, the man?

Bradford shook his head and tried to dismiss the turmoil she caused. Lord, she made his head spin with the questions she raised. For the first time since his father and his brother's deaths, he felt vulnerable. He railed against the feeling.

She confused him and he wasn't ready to deal with the beliefs she challenged, the changes she demanded. He knew he only wanted her, now, this minute. But he wanted her willing… and loving… and with equal passion.

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, a futile effort to stop the tears. She felt Bradford shift next to her as his heavy thigh settled against the backs of her legs. His hand began to caress the length of her back. It was such a gentle touch that she found herself confused all over again. His breath was warm against her spine, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. His fingers slowly marked an erotic line from the base of her neck to the top of her derriere, hesitated for the briefest of heartbeats, and then settled between her thighs to stroke the building heat in her.

She sensed the change in him, knew the anger was gone, and responded to the tender seduction. She thought to struggle, telling herself that she should hate the sensual pleasure he forced on her, and then admitted that he wasn't forcing her to respond at all.

His mouth trailed hot kisses down her back while his fingers worked their magic, making her moist and hot with desire. She gripped the sheets when he increased the pressure building inside her, felt her muscles contract against him and was powerless to stop the tremors.

His fingers entered and retreated again and again until she thought she would surely die from the sweet agony. She arched against him, trying to find release, moaned his name in a husky voice that demanded and pleaded.

Bradford moved then and knelt between her legs. "Tell me how much you want this," he demanded. His voice was harsh, shaking with his own need. He wanted to hear her say that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"I want you, Jered," Caroline whispered. "Please, now."

"And I want you, Caroline," he growled. His hands held her by her hips and he thrust into her with one powerful motion.

His voice called out to her, beckoned her through the haze of consuming pleasure, soft, gentle words of one lover to another, begging her to take what he offered her. He waited for her complete surrender and when she called his name again, he followed her into the heat of the sun, finding his own scorching release.

He collapsed against his wife with a low growl of satisfaction and when the tremors had finished, he rolled to his side, holding her against him. His head rested on top of hers and his hand gently stroked her cheek. He felt her tears on his fingertips and whispered, "Don't cry, baby. Don't cry," again and again, until Caroline finally gained control and allowed the comfort he offered.

"You can always make me want you," Caroline whispered. Her voice sounded as if she was confessing a grave sin.

Bradford didn't immediately answer. He covered them with the blankets and pulled her back against him, cradling her with such tenderness that Caroline started crying again.

"Caroline, do you want to hear me say that I'm sorry? I would be lying," he admitted with a sigh. "I didn't take you by force just now. You wanted me as much as I wanted you."

She was shaking her head before he had completed his last remark. "You didn't want me?" he asked, amazed that she would lie to him. She was always truthful, sometimes bluntly so, and he had come to depend upon her honesty.

"Yes, I wanted you," Caroline answered. "But I want to hear you say you're sorry because you thought I had acted shamefully tonight at the party," she explained. Her voice was muffled by the pillow, and Bradford was forced to lean up on his elbow to hear her clearly.

He placed a kiss on her temple and then said, "You're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?" Caroline was astonished by his casual remark. "You nearly killed a man tonight and your expression was horrid when you looked at me! You wanted to believe that I was guilty, didn't you?"

"For God's sake, you're being dramatic," Bradford argued. He sounded exasperated and Caroline bristled in reaction. He didn't have the faintest clue of how much he had hurt her. "I soon understood," Bradford argued.

"Not soon enough," Caroline snapped. She struggled to sit up and turned to look at him. "Until you have complete faith in me, this marriage is doomed. I want blind trust and I'm not going to settle for less. I want unconditional faith, so much so that if you found me in bed with two men, you would pause to ask for an explanation before condemning."

"You aren't married to a fool, Caroline," Bradford muttered.

"I'm not so sure," Caroline answered. She saw the glint of anger in her husband's eyes but continued. "A fool doesn't take the time to understand his opponent. You've made rash judgments about my character and have attacked that which I most value."

"And what would that be?" Bradford demanded. His voice was soft and terribly controlled.

"My honor."

"Is our marriage a battlefield in your eyes?" Bradford scoffed. "We're husband and wife, Caroline, not opponents in a war."

"I don't see the difference right this minute," Caroline stated. "Our marriage might as well be a battlefield, until you concede that I'm-"

"I'll concede nothing," Bradford snapped out. The conversation was getting completely beyond him. Something she had said earlier pulled at his memory and he was trying to recall what it was. Whatever it was would come to him soon enough, he decided with a yawn. For now all he wanted to do was hold his wife and fall asleep. With that thought in mind, he sought to end her argument. "You're the one who'll concede to my strength, my lead. Do you dare suggest it should be the other way around?"

"You're deliberately being obtuse," Caroline answered. "You know exactly what I'm asking of you. You'll either trust me or-"

"Perhaps in time, when you've proven yourself to me," Bradford replied. He yawned again, dismissing the subject in his mind, and tried to pull Caroline back into his arms.

Caroline jerked away and moved to stand before the bed. She grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around her, shaking with anger. "I'm through proving myself to you. If you had your way I'd be trembling with fear every time a man opened his mouth to speak to me, afraid that you would jump to your nasty conclusions again. When you realize that I'm not a superficial female intent on material gains or a cunning whore out to conquer the male population of London, then maybe our future will be peaceful. Until then, you can damn well sleep by yourself. Let your suspicions keep you warm."

She walked out of the room. There was satisfaction in slamming the door shut behind her but it was short-lived, and by the time she had climbed into Bradford's bed, she was trembling with anger again. She fully expected him to drag her back to his side and was surprised when he didn't.

He opened the door to the bedroom and stood, towering over her, shaking his head. "So be it," he announced in a voice that chilled her. "This is my bedroom. You have my permission to sleep in your own room, wife. When you realize how foolishly you're behaving, I'll be willing to listen to your apology."

Caroline didn't answer him. She removed herself from his bed and walked back into her own bedroom. She settled herself in her bed, shivering with cold, and cried herself to sleep.

Her last thought was that Bradford was the most stubborn man alive.

Bradford could hear his wife crying. He started to get out of bed to go to her and then stopped himself. She had brought this on and she would have to be the one to come to him.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind. And just when he was about to drift off to sleep, he remembered what it was that had been bothering him, badgering the back of his mind. She had called him by his given name. When they were making love, she had called him Jered. He frowned, wondering why it was so significant.