Rebellious Desire

Chapter Thirteen

Bradford was in a panic.

When the messenger arrived at Bradford Hills and announced that Franklin Kendall had escaped the shadows that followed him, Bradford's immediate impulse was to go to Caroline.

When he had calmed down a bit, he canceled that idea, knowing that she was safe with the five guards he had hired seeing to her protection. There was always the chance that Bradford was being watched, too, and if he traveled to Bradford Place, he would well be leading her enemy right to her front door.

He left for London with the vow that he would tear the town apart until he found the man. Twice he had tried to close the trap, and each time his cunning adversary hadn't taken the bait. Well, he was through with traps. He knew that the marquis's younger brother was the guilty one, and if he had to goad him into a duel, he would do just that.

He had had the foresight to make Caroline promise that she wouldn't correspond with any of her relatives and knew that she thought it was because of the shabby way he was treating her. That wasn't the case at all, but he hadn't bothered to explain to her. He didn't want anyone to know where she was and had confided only in Milford. His friend, of course, would keep his silence.

He felt guilty over excluding Caroline from his concerns but argued that the less she knew, the less she would worry.

Bradford didn't arrive at the townhouse until late that evening. One of the hired investigators was waiting out front and quickly informed him that Franklin had surfaced again. He had been secreted with a new mistress and had spent the entire weekend with her.

New instructions were given and then Bradford went inside. He was pacing the library when the Earl of Braxton arrived and requested an immediate audience.

Braxton looked tired and out of sorts and came right to the point of the visit. "I took a chance on finding you here. Caroline isn't with you, is she?"

"No, she isn't." Bradford didn't comment further but offered his father-in-law a drink and then sat down across from him.

"You two have an argument? I don't mean to put my nose in the middle, but the marquis is beside himself. Franklin keeps making snide insinuations and Mile's upset. She hasn't been to see him or written a word and he's feeling abandoned. He doesn't believe the sordid lies that waste of a brother keeps making. But he is convinced that she's ill and you're hiding the truth from him. Always was a worrier, Milo was. Of course, she's fit as a fiddle, isn't she?"

The alarm was there, in his eyes, and Bradford quickly nodded his head. "Yes, she's fine," he answered. "We have had a difference of opinion but nothing to concern yourself about. What remarks has Franklin been making?"

"I'll not repeat them," the earl snapped. "He's out to discredit my sweet daughter. Taken a dislike to her and I can't imagine why."

Bradford didn't comment. He seethed with anger inside, knowing full well why Franklin was weaving his lies.

"Well, my boy, she's got to come back to London for a visit. Milo is working himself into a lather. You'll see to it at once, won't you?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that isn't possible just now."

"Put your pride aside, Bradford! Have a little compassion. You'll have a lifetime ahead of you to fight with my daughter. Call a truce for now. Milo isn't the strong buck you are. He has little enough time left as it is, and has waited fourteen years for Caroline to come back to him. He loves her as much as I do."

The earl looked ready to grab hold of Bradford and shake some sense into him. Bradford hesitated a long minute, suffering his father-in-law's glare, and then finally came to a decision. "Caroline and I have had a difference of opinion but that isn't the reason she isn't here with me."

Slowly, without interruption, Bradford explained the true reason for his wife's absence. He told how someone had pushed her down the steps at the Claymeres' house, described in detail the carriage "accident," quoted parts of the threatening letter Caroline had received, and ended the sordid tale with his conclusion that Franklin was behind it all.

"He has the most to gain," Bradford explained. "From various sources, I've learned that the marquis is going to settle quite a bit of money on Caroline. The land and the title will, of course, go to Franklin, but without the money he'll be strapped to keep up his lifestyle. Loretta has gambling debts that amount to a sizable fortune, and the only reason the vultures haven't closed in on her is due to the vouchers she signed promising the money as soon as the marquis dies.

"When Caroline returned to London, the marquis changed his will and told Franklin and Loretta what he had done after the papers had all been signed."

Braxton had slumped farther and farther into his chair during the explanation and now buried his head in his hands.

"The marquis is disgusted with his brother and his parade of mistresses, and knows all about Loretta's gambling habits."

The earl shook his head and began to cry.

Bradford worried over his father-in-law's reaction and hurried to calm him. "Sir, it isn't as bad as it sounds," he promised. "Caroline is well protected and Franklin doesn't make a move without me knowing it. I don't have sufficient evidence to prove his guilt, but I thought to call him out and be done with it."

Braxton continued to shake his head. "No, you don't understand. Why didn't she tell me? I could have sent her back before you married her." His voice was filled with agony and despair. "I could have-"

"Send her back? To Boston?" Bradford was having difficulty following the disrupted speech. A feeling of dread settled around his heart and he jerked his father-in-law to his feet. "Tell me! You know something, don't you? For God's sake, tell me what you're thinking."

"It was a long time ago, and I waited until the last was dead before I had her return. So long ago, and yet it seems like yesterday in my mind. My wife had just died and the baby, too, and Caroline and I went to my country home. I had caused some problems for myself with my radical views on Ireland, and Perkins, one of the leaders who opposed me, didn't take kindly to my interference. He owned land in Ireland, far more than any other nobleman, and the measure I had backed just passed, allowing the Irish Catholics ownership of their own land. I knew Perkins hated me but I didn't know how evil he really was. To the world he was an upstanding citizen."

The earl sagged back into his chair and again buried his head in his hands. Bradford forced himself to be patient. He poured his father-in-law another drink and handed it to him.

The earl took a large gulp and then continued. "Perkins sent some men after me. He was going to silence me once and for all. The lands he owned weren't in jeopardy but he wanted to expand his holdings and I was gaining in popularity. He believed that I would find a way to get the land away from him. Odd thing was, I had already lost the heart for battle. My world was in shambles after my wife died, and all I wanted was to live in peace and quiet with my little girl.

"Caroline was only four years old. She was such a bright child, full of mischief." The earl took a deep breath and then straightened. "They came during the night. There were only two of them. Caroline was upstairs sleeping but the shouts must have awakened her and she came downstairs. One of the men had a pistol and I knocked it out of his hand. Caroline got hold of it somehow and shot him. He died three days later."

Bradford leaned back in his chair, clearly astonished by the story.

"It was an accident," the earl said. "She was trying to bring the weapon to me. She was trying to help. The man had stabbed me and there was blood everywhere. Caroline started running toward me and tripped and the pistol went off."

Bradford closed his eyes. "My God, she was just a baby." He shook his head. "She's never said a word to me."

"She doesn't remember."

Bradford barely heard him. He kept trying to picture Caroline as a little girl and how the horror would have affected her.

His father-in-law's statement finally penetrated. "I learned that she was terrified of pistols when she was younger. She considered that a flaw and worked until she overcame it." Bradford's voice shook and he was powerless to control it.

"Yes," Braxton returned. "Henry wrote to me about that. My younger brother was the only one in the family who knew the real reason Caroline was sent to him. He didn't even tell his wife."

"What happened to the men involved? You said that one of them died three days later?"

"Yes, the shot went into his stomach," the earl answered. "His name was Dugan."

"Family?"

"No, Dugan was a loner."

"And the others?"

"Perkins died last year. The third man was named McDonald. Didn't have any family to speak of. Only been in London a couple of months. He admitted that he was paid by Perkins but was afraid to testify if I brought charges. As if I would! My baby exposed to such a scandal? Never! And I didn't know if Perkins would send others or not. Couldn't trust him, you see. So I packed Caroline off with two of my most trusted friends and then went after Perkins myself."

"How? How did you go after him?" Bradford asked. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair and he forced himself to relax.

"I went to his home with my pistol. He had two sons and when I got Perkins alone I told him that I had already hired men to kill him and both boys if anything happened to me or my daughter. He got the message. He could tell I meant what I said."

He waited for Bradford's nod and then continued, "I thought that the threat was over but I still couldn't take the chance. Caroline was all I had! I stayed out of politics and made the vow that my baby wouldn't come home until they were all dead."

Bradford's manner suddenly became brisk, businesslike. His wife's protection was uppermost in his thoughts and there wasn't time to allow other emotions to interfere. The time for compassion would come later, when he told Caroline.

"All right. So Perkins and the men he hired are all dead. Where does that leave us?" He rubbed his jaw in a thoughtful manner and stared into the flames of the fire burning in the fireplace.

The sound of the clock chiming the hour was the only noise in the room as both men contemplated the puzzle.

"Are you positive that no one else knew what happened? Couldn't Perkins have told anyone?"

Braxton shook his head. "He wouldn't have dared," he commented. "And I didn't tell anyone but my brother."

Bradford stood up and began to pace the room.

"What are you going to do?" the earl asked. He was wringing his hands together and Bradford thought he looked as old and fragile as the marquis.

"I'm not sure yet. But the letter makes sense now. Whoever wrote it promised revenge but there were so many other disjointed obscenities that I didn't pay it any attention."

"Oh, God, she still isn't safe! She-"

Bradford interrupted his father-in-law with a curtness in his tone that he couldn't contain. "Nothing is going to happen to her. Damn it, I have only just realized how much she means to me. I won't let anyone touch her. I-"

"Yes?" the earl prompted when Bradford stopped.

"I love her." Bradford let out a loud sigh. "I'll not lose her now," he added, making the statement as a vow. "Look, try your best not to worry. Tell the marquis that Caroline is suffering from a cold or something. Convince him that she's out of bed now and intent on writing to him. That should appease the man until I can formulate a plan of action."

The earl felt as if a weight he had been carrying since the beginning of time was finally being lifted from his shoulders. He nodded his agreement and walked to the door. "You won't tell Caroline what I've confided in you? There isn't any reason for her to know," he stated. "My baby was an innocent in all this."

Bradford nodded. "I'll keep silent for now but later, when this is finished, I'll have to tell her."

He followed his father-in-law to the front door and made the comment, "Caroline didn't tell you about the threat because she didn't want you to worry. And I've said very little to her about my thoughts concerning her enemy because I didn't want her to worry. Each of us has been so intent on protecting each other that we have an lost track. I've always insisted on blind trust-" Bradford halted as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He shook his head. "Blind trust. Her exact demand of me," he acknowledged.

"What?" The Earl of Braxton looked confused.

"She's given me her love and her trust," Bradford commented. His voice sounded curt but it was the only way he could control the trembling inside. "Did you know that she sometimes calls me Jered?"

His father-in-law shook his head and frowned, obviously perplexed by the turn in the conversation.

Bradford coughed and gripped the door handle. "Look, I promise to keep you informed. Now go home and get some rest."

The earl was halfway down the steps when Bradford stopped him with a question. "When exactly did it happen?"

"What?"

"The date, sir, when the men came."

"Almost fifteen years ago now," the earl answered.

"No, I mean the exact date. The day, the month-do you remember?"

"February, on the night of the twentieth, 1788. Is that important?"

Bradford wouldn't allow his face to show any reaction. "It might be. I'll be in touch," he promised, saying nothing more about his suspicions.

But as soon as the door was shut, his expression changed and his worry was clearly visible. He prayed he was wrong, shaking with anger. If his suspicions were correct, then there wasn't much time left. Only six days to find the bastard! Six days until February twentieth.

Bradford's hands shook as he made his list of what was to be done. He didn't go to bed until well into the middle of the night. Tomorrow, after he had set his plan into action, he would return to his wife. That thought calmed him and he realized that he was looking forward to confessing his love and begging her forgiveness. He would go to her as both the Duke of Bradford and Jered Marcus Benton. He knew in his heart that she loved him. And if the power and the wealth and the title disappeared tomorrow, she would remain by his side.

Bradford felt such contentment, such peace of mind when he thought about tomorrow and how he would hold his wife in his arms. He began to think of all the different ways he would make love to her, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Milford arrived at Bradford's townhouse just as his friend was preparing to leave.

Bradford quickly explained that he believed whoever was after Caroline would make his move in just six days' time but he didn't explain his reasons. He felt that his wife should be told first, and it would be her decision to tell Milford, or anyone else, about what happened so many years before.

"I would appreciate it if you would come with me to Bradford Place. I could use your help. The more trusted people around Caroline, the better," he said.

"God, my backside's sore from yesterday's ride, but you know I'll come with you," Milford returned. "Besides wanting to help, I also wish to hear who apologizes first." He saw his friend's exasperation and laughed.

"What makes you think I'll apologize?" Bradford asked, grinning.

"Because while you're stubborn, my friend, you're not stupid," Milford returned.

Bradford surprised his friend by nodding agreement. "Then you are going to apologize?" he asked.

"On my knees if I have to," Bradford announced. And then he laughed at his friend's expression. "What's the matter? I thought you would be tired of playing the mediator by now," he commented as he slapped his friend on his back. "That's why you went to Caroline, isn't it? To get her to see reason?"

Milford looked sheepish. "Guilty," he returned. "Now, Brad, no need to overdo it. You get on your knees just once and Caroline will have you there the rest of your life. Besides, she's ready to come home. God knows, I love her, but she's-"

"I do too," Bradford interrupted him.

"What?"

"Love her," he explained.

"Don't tell me, man, tell Caroline."

Bradford shook his head. "I would, my friend, if you'd get moving."

The twosome barely spoke a word during the journey, taking several shortcuts that lessened the distance from London to Bradford Hills by almost an hour. With each mile that passed, Bradford's mood lightened.

He walked into the drawing room of his mansion, shouting for Henderson so that he could give him new directions, and then poured himself a portion of brandy. After taking a healthy swallow, he turned to sit for a few minutes. His favorite leather chair was missing and he frowned when he sat in the low-backed chair. He took another drink from his glass and then turned to place it on the tripod table that was always there, next to his favorite chair. Only the table wasn't there anymore, and Bradford didn't notice that until he was about to drop his glass.

He frowned over the small inconvenience and then Milford walked into the room, asking his attention.

"Brad? You been inside your library yet?" he asked with mild interest.

Bradford shook his head. His mind was filled with pictures of his wife and he was trying to formulate the way he would tell her what a fool he had been, without sounding like one. He found himself getting nervous, realized he was still uncomfortable with the thought that he was soon going to bare his heart and his soul to the woman he loved. The problem, as he sat there and analyzed it, was that he hadn't had much practice.

Milford wouldn't allow him a moment's privacy and insisted, between bites of the piece of bread he held in his hand, that Bradford follow him into the library. "I believe there's a message in there for you but I can't quite figure it out," he mumbled.

Bradford gave in and followed Milford to the doorway of his study.

"What the devil? Henderson?" Bradford's shout brought only an echo for a reply.

He slowly walked into his sanctuary, looking around with astonishment. The room was completely stripped. The desk, chairs, books, papers, and even the drapes were missing.

Bradford turned to Milford and shook his head in bewilderment.

"Henderson's probably hiding somewhere," Milford decided aloud. "What's going on?"

Bradford shrugged, frowning still. "I'll have to hunt down the reasons later. Right now, all I want to do is change and leave for Bradford Place." He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and called over his shoulder, "You're welcome to one of my shirts if you want to change."

Bradford paused when he reached the door to Caroline's room. On impulse, he opened it and took a quick glance inside. Everything was exactly where it should be, and still he frowned. He shut the door and continued to his own bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, he started to laugh. The room was as stripped and bare as his library.

Henderson appeared on the run, with Milford at his side.

"It will not be possible to change, your Grace," Henderson announced with a dignified air. His face was ruddy red, as if he had been standing out in the cold all morning.

"And why is that?" Bradford asked. He continued to laugh until tears gathered in his eyes.

"Your wife requested all of your belongings transferred. I believed, sir, that it was by your order."

Bradford nodded. "Of course you did, Henderson." He turned to his bewildered-looking friend and said, "She took only my things, Milford. It's a message all right, and not too subtle."

"And what's the message?" Milford asked, finding Brad's laugh infectious. He started to chuckle and didn't have the faintest clue why.

Bradford showed his exasperation. "All my things were taken to Bradford Place. An imbecile could figure it out. She's telling me where I belong." He whacked his slow-witted friend on the shoulder and started down the hall. "How'd they ever get my bed down the stairs, Henderson? Must have taken at least four men."

Henderson was vastly relieved that his employer had found humor in the situation. "Five, actually," he confessed. He cleared his throat and then added, "They tried to nab me as well, your Grace. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was forced to hide in the pantry until they had left."

"Hiding won't do you any good, Henderson," Bradford announced when he had controlled himself.

"She'll get you sooner or later. If her mind's set on having you at Bradford Place, then you might as well accept it."

"And where will you be, if I may inquire?" Henderson said.

"With my wife," Bradford said, grinning.

Milford and Bradford set out again, using fresh horses, but it took the full length of time to get to Bradford Place, as the hills in between didn't allow cutthroughs.

It was close to the dinner hour when they entered the bleak-looking fortress. Only it wasn't a fortress inside at all. It was a home.

Bradford stood transfixed in the center of the foyer. "She took the beast and turned it into a thing of beauty."

"Are you referring to yourself or our home?" The question echoed from above, and Bradford turned to look up at the top of the steps.

His wife stood there, waiting for his answer. Bradford's chest constricted and he couldn't form a single word.

Caroline wanted nothing more but to run down the stairs and throw herself into her husband's arms. She waited, wishing to see if he was angry or pleased with her first. Her husband continued to look up at her and the longer the silence lasted, the more awkward she felt. She had just changed into a simple yellow gown that made her complexion look sickly. If only she had chosen the blue instead, she berated herself. If only she had known that he was coming! Lord, but her hair wasn't even combed properly and she knew she looked frazzled.

"You took your sweet time getting here," she called out, putting the issue of her appearance aside. If she looked a mess, then it was his fault, not hers.

She came down the steps and stood right in front of her husband. He wore such a serious, intent expression, but there was tenderness in his eyes as well. It put her off balance, and she decided that he obviously hadn't stopped at Bradford Hills on his way here. Otherwise, he would surely be yelling at her now.

Caroline curtsied and smiled up at her husband. "Welcome home," she said.

She didn't dare touch him. She knew that once she was in his arms, she would forget all about the speech she had prepared, and she was determined to see that task through first.

She kept her gaze directed at her husband when she greeted Milford. "And did you bring me the money you owe me?" she asked.

Bradford heard Caroline's question but had difficulty understanding just what she was saying. He could only concentrate on her nearness. She looked so lovely! And, he realized with his first grin, she appeared to be somewhat nervous. He wondered what was going through that delightfully complicated mind of hers.

He didn't have to wait long for his answer. "You came directly from London? You didn't stop at Bradford Hills?" Caroline asked the question of his jacket, staring intently at one of the buttons.

"We stopped."

"You did? And you're not angry with me?" She thought it a foolish question as soon as she had asked it. It was obvious that he wasn't angry because he was smiling at her. She therefore concluded that he hadn't stayed long enough at Bradford Hills to know what she had done. Oh, well, she thought with a nervous laugh, he'll find out soon enough. Then the fat would be in the fire.

Best get the speech over before Bradford went upstairs, Caroline decided. "I really must speak to you, Bradford."

"Say good night to Milford, my love."

"What? But he just got here. Surely he isn't leaving yet?"

"Not Milford, Caroline," Bradford contradicted.

"Milford isn't leaving?"

The guest in question was much quicker at understanding what Bradford was telling his wife. He threw his cloak over the hall table and strolled down the hallway in search of dinner, whistling a snappy tune.

"Time for bed, Caroline."

"But I'm not tired."

"That's good."

"It's daylight, Bradford. I won't be able to sleep."

"I hope not."

Caroline blushed when Bradford picked her up and carried her up the steps. She had finally realized what his intention was. "We can't do this," she protested. "Milford is going to know!"

Bradford had reached the landing and asked, "Your bedroom or mine?"

"Our bedroom," Caroline corrected, giving up the argument. She pointed to the first door on the right but when her husband was about to open it, she grabbed hold of his hand, remembering the furniture. "There's something I'd like to explain about the room," she rushed on.

Bradford ignored her and opened the door. His bedroom furniture was where he expected it to be, and he forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he walked inside and shut the door behind him.

Caroline waited for his comment, but Bradford seemed content to lean against the door and hold her in his arms.

He spotted the empty tub in the corner of the room and remembered that he was covered with a layer of dust. He reluctantly let Caroline slide to the floor and gave her only a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He knew that if he kissed her the way he wanted to, the bath would be forgotten. "First things first, love," he whispered with a reluctant sigh. He turned and opened the door and shouted for water, loud enough for all the guards to hear him.

"Bradford, will you please give me your attention now?" Caroline asked. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Notice anything different?" she asked.

"I notice everything," Bradford answered. "Your hair's a mess and that ugly gown makes you look like you died yesterday. Take it off as soon as the bath's ready."

Caroline wasn't at all offended by his comments, admitting to herself that he was accurate. He was smiling at her and his expression warmed her. He wanted her. "I have never seen you in such a good humor," she confessed with a whisper. "I thought you'd be angry about the furniture, but you haven't even noticed. Your study's down the hall by the way."

"I noticed," Bradford said with a chuckle. "There's only one bed that size in all of England I would imagine."

"Bradford, do try to be serious for a minute. There's something I would like to discuss with you. And you're making me nervous grinning at me like that."

A knock on the door interrupted her. Bradford opened it, saw that it was the guards with buckets of water, and allowed them entrance. He dragged the big tub in front of the fireplace and lit a fire while the tub was being filled.

The wait was an eternity for Caroline. She wanted to get her speech over with. Bradford was sure to gloat. And then it all made sense. Milford! He must have told Bradford that she intended to come home with Bradford. That was the reason for her husband's lighthearted attitude now.

"What did Milford tell you?" Caroline asked. "When he visited with me, he-"

She couldn't finish her sentence. Bradford was taking his clothes off, distracting her. His shirt was over his head and thrown on the floor and then he was walking over to the nightstand. Caroline watched, mesmerized, as her husband washed his face and hands from the water in the porcelain bowl. "You're washing before you have your bath?" she asked in bewilderment. "That's being a bit meticulous, isn't it?"

Bradford smiled. He came over to the bed and sat down beside his wife. "On your knees, wench," he stated in a growl.

Caroline was surprised by the order. "You want me on my knees?" Her spine was beginning to stiffen. "Now look here, Bradford, I don't know what Milford told you, but-"

"Help me pull my boots off, sweetheart."

"Oh." Caroline showed her exasperation. She didn't get on her knees but straddled his legs instead, giving Bradford a delightful view of her backside. When she was finished with the task, she turned, hands on hips. "Now will you listen to me?"

"After our bath."

"Our bath?"

Bradford nodded, laughing at Caroline's blush. He slowly removed her clothes. Caroline noticed that his hands shook and was surprised by the show of emotions, for her husband's face didn't give a hint of what he was thinking now.

He picked her up, fighting the sensations her softness caused, and settled himself in the tub with Caroline on his lap.

"You're blushing like a virgin, wife," Bradford commented with a calculated leer. "See to my bath," he commanded. He handed her a clump of soap and Caroline began to wash her husband's chest.

Neither said a word during the next breathless minutes. Caroline lost the soap when she began to rinse the lather off his chest. She couldn't concentrate on anything, heard herself whisper that he would have to stand up so that she could wash his legs, and thought her voice sounded as harsh as the wind circling the walls outside.

"I don't think I could stand," Bradford told her. His wife was staring, quite intently, at his chest, and he forced her to look up at him. "You do that to me, you know," he said in a husky voice.

"Do what?" Caroline whispered shyly.

"Make me weak with desire. I wanted to go easy this time, to savor the moments before I touched you, to build the anticipation…"

"If you don't kiss me soon, I think I will die," Caroline whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

He gave her a teasing, nibbling kiss but Caroline was too impatient. She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth.

Bradford couldn't tease any longer. He kissed her fully then, and his mouth was so hot, so hard, and Caroline responded with her own heat, her own need.

Her tongue mated with his and Bradford turned her until she was straddling his hips. Her breasts drove him wild, rubbing enticingly against his chest, and he couldn't quit kissing her, touching her.

Caroline clung to his neck, assaulted by the passion that ignited between them. His tongue tormented her; she couldn't seem to get close enough to him, feeling the raw burning need overpower her.

He whispered words of love, erotic, titillating words, but the haze of passion was so thick, so consuming, that she couldn't concentrate on anything but the building fire.

His hands stroked her back, kindling the flame of desire, and then he was caressing the very core of her and she heard herself cry out in agony and building ecstasy. "Jered!" It was a demand.

Bradford thrust into her, again and again. Caroline arched against him, tightening her hold, and welcomed their shared release.

She collapsed against his chest, exhausted from the pleasure of his impatient lovemaking, her impatient response.

Bradford's heart sounded as if it was about to explode, and Caroline waited until the pace had slowed before she moved.

"I had forgotten that we were in a tub," she whispered with a shaky laugh. She sighed, cuddling her head against the side of his neck, and closed her eyes. "I love you, Bradford."

"I'll never tire of hearing you say it," Bradford whispered.

Caroline nodded, her only reaction to his words. And then she started to cry, and heaven help her, she was as loud as Charity.

Bradford let her sob against his chest, tenderly stroking her shoulders, and when she had slowed down and could hear him, he said, "Caroline, listen to me."

"No," Caroline said. "You must listen to me first. I understand you can't love me yet. I've been too impatient and demanding," she continued with another loud sob. "You haven't allowed yourself time to know decent women and I've placed demands on you that you can't possibly meet. I'm going to put up with you and accept you as you are."

If she believed that her fervent speech would soothe her husband, she was mistaken. Bradford frowned. "That's noble of you, wife. Are you giving up then?"

Caroline glanced up and saw the amusement in his eyes. "What? No, I'm only accepting, Bradford," she replied.

"And just how long do you plan to be patient, love?" he asked, smiling.

"You're confusing me, Bradford," Caroline remarked. "I thought you'd be moved by my decision and instead find that you think it's amusing. And just what am I to think about that?" she asked herself more than her husband.

She stood up and used his stomach as her stepping-stone to get out of the tub, satisfied when she heard his loud groan of protest.

"Serves you right for being so arrogant," Caroline announced. "Milford told you I wanted to come home, didn't he? That's why you're so happy, isn't it?" Caroline said with growing exasperation.

"I'm happy because I've just made love to my obedient wife," Bradford returned, grinning.

"There isn't an obedient bone in my body," Caroline contradicted. She knelt down beside the tub, fished the soap from the water, and began to scrub her husband. "Unless I give my word, of course. Then, I guess you could say I'm obedient about keeping it." She signed and added, "You think you've won, don't you?"

Bradford wasn't sure she even realized what she was doing. She looked like she was getting as worked up as the lather she was building on his right leg and he started laughing again.

"I think you've taken the skin off," Bradford remarked. "Don't look so perplexed, love. Are you finished with your apology or is there more?" he asked with lazy interest.

"I didn't apologize, but I'm not going to argue about it."

"Then I believe it's my turn," Bradford announced. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I know it hasn't been easy, loving me, and I've caused you a lot of distress. My only excuse is that I love you so much that I've behaved like a fool. I-"

Caroline had dropped the soap and stood up during his speech. "Don't you dare tease me, Bradford." Tears coursed down her cheeks and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. "Are you telling me the truth? You really love me?"

Bradford was out of the tub and holding Caroline in his arms before she could move. "Have I done that to you?" he asked, his voice filled with pain. "God, Caroline, I love you! I think I always have. And now that I'm finally about to say the words, you cry! I've never lied to you, Caroline. Never!" His voice was so fierce and Caroline could hear the agony.

She cried into his chest and Bradford stood there, feeling completely helpless. He dripped water all over the floor while she dripped hot tears all over him.

"You can't take it back."

Caroline's voice was muffled and he had to ask her to repeat what she had just said. She was sniffling and hiccupping but she finally got the words out. "I said you can't take it back."

Bradford started to laugh, and surely that was the reason for the tears in his own eyes. He dragged his trembling wife to the bed and hugged her under the covers. He kissed her, a long, satisfying kiss, and then told her again and again how much he loved her, until he was certain that she believed him.

"I'm waiting to hear the rest," Caroline told him. She drummed her fingers against his chest for a full minute before she realized that Bradford wasn't going to say anything else. And then she started to laugh. "God, but you're a stubborn man! Of course you love me. I've known it for the longest time," she lied brazenly. "Now admit that you'll trust me, no matter what the circumstances."

"Outline all of them before I commit myself," Bradford returned, grinning. He pushed her head down beneath his chin and inhaled her special fragrance. "You smell of roses," he whispered.

"And so do you," Caroline told him. "We used my soap. It's scented."

Bradford grumbled to himself.

"At least you don't smell like your horse anymore," Caroline volunteered with a chuckle. "You know, Bradford, the name of your horse was a definite clue and I'm only now realizing it."

"What are you talking about?" Bradford asked, confused.

"Reliance! It was a key to what you value, what was missing from your life," Caroline explained.

"I do trust you, Caroline," Bradford admitted. "But as for the jealousy, I can't promise. I'll try," he vowed. He told her he loved her again, finding a freedom and joy he didn't know possible with just the simple acknowledgment, and made love to her, slowly this time. He built the fires with calculating accuracy, knowing exactly where to touch, how to give her the pleasure he had fantasized about all the nights he was apart from her.

He loved her with an intensity that caused her to weep again.

"I love you, Caroline," Bradford said, squeezing her against him.

"I'll never tire of hearing it."

It took a moment for Bradford to remember that those were the exact words he had used with her. He smiled, appreciating her humor.

"Bradford? When did you know? When did you realize that you loved me?"

"It wasn't a bolt of lightning," Bradford told her. Caroline was stretched out on her back and Bradford propped himself on one elbow to look at her.

He grinned over her disappointed look and was forced to kiss the frown away before he continued. "You were like a splinter under my skin," Bradford told her, "A constant bother."

Caroline laughed. "You are so romantic!"

"As romantic as you are. I seem to remember you telling me that loving me was like having a stomach ache."

"Bradford, I was irritated then," Caroline confessed.

"I was immediately drawn to you," Bradford continued. "I would have taken you for my mistress and damned the consequences if you'd only been agreeable," he admitted.

"I knew it."

"But you weren't like any other woman at all. The night we went to Aimsmond's affair, you didn't wear any jewels."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Caroline asked.

"They weren't important to you," Bradford explained. He laughed, thinking of his stupidity, and confessed, "I did try to buy your affection with the gifts, didn't I?"

"You did," Caroline told him, pleased that he recognized it. "And you've been perfectly horrid to me as well. Did you know the state of this place when you sent me here?"

Bradford grimaced and reluctantly nodded. "I was angry, Caroline. You were rejecting everything I had to offer," he added with a shrug.

"Not everything," Caroline whispered. Her voice had turned serious now, as serious as her expression. "I only wanted your love and trust."

"I understand that now," Bradford returned. "Would you be content to live with me in the country the rest of your life?"

"I would live in the heart of London's slum with you as long as you love me," Caroline answered. "I do like the country life. I was raised on a farm, after all!"

"And do you think you'll learn to call England home?" he asked.

"Well, I must admit that it has been a difficult adjustment. It was so much calmer in Boston, Bradford. No one was pushing me down steps or writing horrid letters. And I don't think anyone hated me enough to try to kill me. And some of the gentlemen here are without morals! Have you noticed that? Of course," she rambled on, "we have our share of scoundrels in the Colonies as well, but they don't dress as gentlemen."

Bradford smiled. "You've had your share of difficulties," he admitted. "But I'll watch out for you."

"I know you will," Caroline replied. "And I have met some very nice people. England is home now." She sighed and snuggled against her husband, vastly content. "It isn't boring, I can tell you that."

"My sweet, life is never boring for you," Bradford returned. "Benjamin told me about the mischief you caused in Boston. Your father should be thankful that his brother had to chase you when you were growing up. I understand you were quite a handful."

"I was always quiet and shy," Caroline announced with conviction. She gathered her husband didn't agree with her evaluation, as he let out a shout of laughter. "Well, I tried to be quiet and shy," she confessed. "And I think that my father wished that I was with him during those fourteen years."

"I know that he did," Bradford returned. His expression turned intent and he added, "He made a sacrifice for you, Caroline."

She nodded. "I'm sure that he did, but I don't understand the reason. Do you think that someday he'll tell me?"

Bradford remembered how Caroline's father had begged him not to tell Caroline about the accident and his promise that he would tell her after the danger had passed. He realized, now, that he was wrong to keep the truth from her. She was his wife, his love, and they should share the worries as well as the joys together. "Your father paid me a visit while I was in London. He told me about an incident that happened almost fifteen years ago."

"One night, some men came to your father's house. His country home," he qualified. "You were asleep but must have heard the noise and came downstairs. The men tried to kill your father and you accidentally shot one of them."

Caroline's face showed her astonishment. "I did?"

Bradford nodded. "You don't remember any of it, do you?"

She shook her head. "Tell me how it happened," she demanded. "Why did they want to kill my father?"

Bradford explained the story the way that it had been recounted to him. When he was finished, he waited for Caroline to absorb all of it. She had sat up during the recitation, and looked at him with an intent expression on her face.

"Thank God I didn't kill my father," she whispered finally. "I couldn't have known what I was doing."

Bradford quickly agreed. "You were just a baby." He noticed that she seemed only mildly upset but still sought to soothe her. "It was an accident, Caroline."

"My poor father! What he must have gone through," Caroline said. "It all makes sense to me now. Why I was sent to Uncle Henry and why Papa waited so long to bring me home! Oh, poor Papa!" Tears of anguish streamed down her face.

Bradford pulled her down into his arms and hugged her, brushing her tears away. Caroline accepted his warmth and thought a long while about the bizarre story. She couldn't remember a single detail, no matter how hard she tried, and finally gave up. "Do you think I'll ever remember that night?" she asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Bradford replied. "Your father said that after you shot the man, you fainted. And you didn't wake up until the next morning. Then you acted like nothing had happened. It's as if you had just erased it from your memory," he guessed.

"I fainted!" Caroline looked shocked and a little insulted, and Bradford found himself smiling.

"You were only four years old," he reminded her.

"Bradford! The letter!" Caroline yelled. She jerked away, her eyes wide with new understanding. "It has something to do with what happened all those years ago, doesn't it? Someone is out for revenge! That's what the letter said."

Bradford's expression turned grim. "I had it all figured out until your father told me about your past," he stated, admitting his confusion.

"Well, do you think it's some relative of one of the men? What about the man I shot? Did he have a son or daughter?"

Bradford shook his head. "Can't find one yet. God, Caroline, if my hunch is right, we don't have much time left."

"Why?" Caroline asked, worried by the frustration in her husband's voice.

"In six more days it will be the anniversary… fifteen years to the day when the accident took place."

"Then there's only one thing to be done," Caroline announced. There was a determined glint in her eyes when she continued, "We have to set a trap and I can be the bait."

"Hold it right there! I've already decided on a trap, but you're not going to be involved. Is that understood?" His voice brooked no argument. Caroline kissed him and snuggled up against him again. She was so overjoyed that he was finally confiding in her that she didn't want to cause him any irritation right now. Besides, she told herself with a smile, she had six days to change his way of thinking. She had every intention of helping to catch the man out to get her.

A sudden thought turned her attention. "Bradford, who knows what happened that night?"

"Let's see," Bradford replied. "He told your Uncle Henry, but the rest of your Boston family doesn't know. And he told me. So that's four of us who know what happened."

"No," Caroline returned, almost absentmindedly. She was thinking about her Uncle Henry and how he had helped her overcome her fear of pistols. He had been so patient and understanding when she had gone to him and asked him for help. She remembered that she had wanted to go hunting with Caimen and Luke, and felt like such a coward over her terror of any kind of weapon. It had taken almost a year to overcome the fear, but with her uncle's assistance, she had succeeded.

"No, what?" Bradford asked, puzzled. "Only four know what happened, if you exclude the three men involved in the plot. They're dead, and that leaves your father, your uncle Henry, you, and me."

"And Uncle Milo," Caroline supplied.

Bradford shook his head. "No, love. Your father was very specific. He said he only told his younger brother. No one else," he stated. "I'm sure of it."

Caroline nodded. "Yes, I understand what you're saying," she replied. "He didn't tell back then, when it happened, but after I came home, he went to the marquis and told him everything. I'm almost certain, because he said he owed him the full explanation so that he wouldn't deny me. I didn't understand what he meant at the time, but now I think… Bradford, why are you looking at me like that? What's the matter?"

"Why didn't he tell me?" Bradford yelled, and seeing his wife's alarm, he quickly lowered his voice. "It's all right. It's all starting to fit together, that's all. Damn, I knew Franklin had to be behind it!"

"Franklin? Bradford, are you sure?" Caroline sounded incredulous. "Why, that little cur! He doesn't get along with his brother and he constantly tries to rile him, but I didn't think he'd be capable of… my own uncle!"

She was suddenly quite speechless and her face turned pink with anger.

"I'd bet on it," Bradford stated. "He has a powerful motive, Caroline. Greed. The marquis is going to settle quite a bit of money on you. He changed his will and only then told his brother what he had done. Thank God for that," he muttered. "Your uncle Franklin would have killed him otherwise."

"What about Loretta?" Caroline asked. "Do you think she's in on it?" She was horrified just thinking about the vile twosome, remembering how Loretta had flirted with Bradford the night of her father's dinner party.

"She has accumulated vast gambling debts and is desperate for money. The lenders have her vouchers and are waiting for the marquis to die."

"You mean she promised them my uncle Milo's money?" Caroline was outraged. "Well, you've answered my question! Of course she's in on it. The woman has absolutely no morals!"

"Franklin must have overheard your father telling the marquis what happened, and he's using that information to escape suspicion."

Caroline shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You've showed the letter to Milford and me, and your father is still alive to tell what happened back then. Franklin has set it up to look like a case of revenge. That's why the date is important. If something happened to you on the twentieth, it ties up in a nice little package for Franklin."

Bradford's tone of voice was mild but his eyes showed his anger. Caroline trembled and felt goosebumps cover her arms. He saw her reaction and drew her down on top of him. "God, I hope I'm right and it is Franklin. Never did like the bastard!"

"We'll find out soon enough," Caroline whispered.

"Don't be frightened, love. I've waited all my life for you. I'll not let anyone harm you."

"I know you'll protect me," Caroline answered. She kissed him on the chin. "I always feel safe with you, except when you're yelling at me, of course."

"I never yell at you," Bradford replied, smiling, knowing full well he lied.

Caroline returned his smile. Her stomach grumbled. "I'm hungry," she told her husband.

Bradford deliberately chose to misunderstand her meaning. He told her he was hungry, too, and kissed her quite thoroughly. And then he rolled her onto her back and began to make love to her. Caroline thought to explain that she was hungry for dinner, but the explanation got lost somewhere in the back of her mind. Dinner could wait a while longer. Besides, Caroline told herself, she was always an obedient wife.