Rebellious Desire

Chapter Six

Caroline had decided that she would discuss Paul Bleachley with Charity in the morning, after her cousin had had a good night's sleep.

She went into Charity's bedroom to say good night and found her cousin propped up in bed, weeping into one of the plump goose-feather pillows she clutched to her breasts.

"You were right all along," Charity told Caroline between sobs. "He wasn't honorable at all. I'm having the most unkind thoughts, Caroline. I do wish you'd go with me to find him and shoot him for me."

Caroline smiled and sat down on the side of Charity's bed. "That is an unkind thought," she agreed. "But I was the one mistaken about Bleachley, not you, Charity. From now on, I'll listen to you whenever men are involved. Your instincts were correct."

"Are you teasing me?" She mopped her eyes on the pillow casing and sat up a little straighter. "You know something, don't you? Tell me!"

"Bleachley was injured in the explosion in Boston. Do you remember that night, Charity? When the harbor was in flames and we could see the orange glow from our bedroom window?"

"Yes, of course I remember. Oh, God, tell me what happened to him." Charity's agony made Caroline rush through the rest of her story.

"What shall I do?" Charity asked when Caroline had finished recounting the story. "Bradford told you that he won't even see his friends. My poor Paul! The pain he must be suffering." She started weeping again, and Caroline felt completely helpless.

For several minutes Charity continued to cry, until her pillow was soaked. Caroline listened until her heart couldn't take one more sob. She frantically tried to think of a plan, discarding one absurd idea after another. If only Charity wasn't so loud when she cried!

And then it all came together. She smiled at her cousin and said, "If you have finished with your tears, I believe there is a way. It means that I'll have to ask a favor of Bradford, but there's no help for it."

"What?" Charity took hold of Caroline's hands and squeezed them with all her might. Although she was small in stature, Caroline thought her grip felt Herculean.

"The idea is to get Paul alone and convince him that you truly love him, correct?"

Charity nodded so vigorously that her hair came undone from the knot on top of her head.

"Bradford will gain us admittance," Caroline announced, warming to her plan. "I'll take care of that. The rest will be up to you, Charity. My plan requires that you play a difficult role. You can't be nice! That would ruin everything."

"I don't understand," Charity admitted, frowning now.

"Remember the morning I brought Benjamin into the house?"

"Yes. I was so frightened when I walked into the kitchen and found him sitting there with a knife in his hand."

"But you didn't show that you were afraid. And neither did your brothers. Remember how Caimen introduced himself and insisted on shaking Benjamin's hand?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with Paul?"

"Let me finish," Caroline insisted. "Benjamin was so distrustful of us but everyone just acted like it was the most common thing in the world to find him there. Then Mama came in, took one look at him, and immediately stated that she would take care of his cuts. Poor Ben never stood a chance. She had him bandaged and fed and in bed before he could say a word. If I remember correctly, he never did let go of the knife. I think he slept with it that first day."

Caroline smiled, thinking how compassionate her aunt had been, and then continued. "Now then, if you let Paul know… I mean to say, if you show the least bit of compassion or pity, well, it just won't do." She continued with her explanation and, by the time she had finished, felt confident that it would really work out. They talked for another hour and Caroline finally announced that they must get some rest.

"But we haven't discussed your evening, Caroline. I have to tell you the compliments I heard about you! You did cause an uproar. Every lady there was filled with envy. And every man sought an introduction through your father, did you know that? Oh, there is so much to recount. Did you know that your Uncle Franklin was there and didn't even come over to meet you? Yes, he was there," Charity continued in a rush. "Your other uncle, the marquis, what a dear old man! Well, he pointed Franklin out to me and then he waved to get his brother's attention, but Franklin just turned his back on the two of us and walked away."

"Maybe he didn't see you," Caroline commented.

"Well, I wasn't wearing my spectacles at the time, but I could see his scowl. He wasn't that far away. It was most odd, but you have said on a number of occasions that the English are an odd lot, so I will use that explanation for the man's rude behavior."

"It is odd," Caroline returned. "I didn't meet him and you would think…"

"Did I tell you that I heard that Bradford never attends any of the balls? I believe the only reason he was there tonight was because he knew that you would attend. Don't shake your head at me," Charity scolded. "I told you he would pursue you. Earlier you said that you would trust my instincts, remember? Now you must eat humble pie and admit that you are attracted to him. For heaven's sake, Caroline, I found you kissing him on the balcony. Besides, I saw how you watched him when you didn't think anyone was looking."

"Was I that obvious?" Caroline asked, mortified.

"Only to me because I know you so well," Charity replied.

"I am attracted to him," Caroline admitted. "But he makes me so nervous."

Charity smiled and patted Caroline's hand in a motherly fashion.

"Charity, do you know that since I have arrived in England, my every conviction has been turned inside out? I feel like I am hanging upside down. I really believed that I would return to Boston-you remember how I boasted that I would-and now I meekly accept that I will live here. And when I met Bradford, I thought him arrogant and overbearing and now admit that I actually like the man! What is the matter with me?"

"I believe, Sister dear, that you are learning to bend. That is all. You never were one to compromise. I think it's part of becoming a woman."

Caroline gave her an exasperated look and Charity laughed. "I know I sound terribly wise but I believe that you are falling in love, Lynnie. I really do. Don't look so horrified. It isn't the end of the world."

"That's debatable," Caroline announced. She stood up and stretched. "Sleep well, Charity."

It was after three o'clock in the morning before Caroline finally settled in her own bed. Her mind was filled with questions, all concerning Bradford. Why was it such a miracle that he smiled? She must remember to ask him about that. And then she fell asleep, a smile on her face.

Caroline awoke at the crack of dawn, her usual time, and was disgusted with herself. She had barely had four hours' sleep and the circles under her eyes indicated as much.

She dressed in a beige walking dress with a scooped neck. Then she tied her hair behind her head and went downstairs in search of a hot cup of tea.

The dining room was empty and not a spot of tea to be found anywhere. Caroline followed the long hallway and finally located the kitchen. A woman Caroline assumed to be the cook sat in a chair next to the hearth.

Caroline announced herself and then looked around the large room. She was appalled by the dust and dirt clinging to the walls and layering the floor and found herself getting angry over the filth.

"My name's Marie," the cook told her. "My first week here. I can see you're frowning over the mess but I ain't had time to clean it yet." She sounded belligerent.

Caroline gave her a sharp look and the cook's attitude slowly changed.

"You might as well know my problem right off. I've ruined the meat again." Caroline couldn't detect any animosity in the woman's voice now and she was upset over the matter.

"This place is filthy," Caroline returned.

"The bread's not fit to chew," the cook answered. "I'll be let go, and what am I to do then?" She started crying, using the edge of her dirty apron to wipe at her eyes, and Caroline wasn't sure how to react. She was rather pathetic.

"Weren't your duties explained to you before you accepted the position?" Caroline asked.

Her question seemed to cause additional distress, and the cook dissolved into loud sobs.

"Calm yourself!" Caroline's voice had a sharp edge to it, and the cook immediately responded by taking several gasps.

"I lied and Toby helped me with the printing of my references," she admitted. " 'Twas dishonest to be sure, miss, but I was desperate for work and it was all I could think of to do. Toby's earnings aren't enough to see us through, you see, and I've got to make the extra shillings to feed little Kirby."

"Who are Toby and Kirby?" Caroline asked. Her voice was softer now, laced with concern. Marie seemed an honest sort, owning up to her deceit, and Caroline felt sorry for her.

"My man and my boy," Marie answered. "I cook for them and they barely make a complaint and I did think I could please the earl," she continued. "Now he'll let me go and I don't know what will happen!"

Caroline took a moment to study Marie. She looked sturdy, though she was on the thin side, but Caroline decided that was because she probably couldn't eat anything she prepared.

"You'll be telling your father, miss?" Marie asked as she twisted her apron around her fingers.

"Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement," Caroline replied. "How much would you like to keep this position?"

"I'll do anything, miss, anything," Marie said in a rush. From the eager expression in her eyes, Caroline realized that the woman wasn't much older than she was. Her skin was still unwrinkled. Only her eyes looked old, old and tired.

"You've met my friend Benjamin, haven't you?" she asked.

Marie nodded. "I was told that he saw to your safety," Marie answered.

Obviously Benjamin or her father had spoken of the relationship, and Caroline nodded. "Yes, that's true," she said. "But he's also quite efficient in the kitchen. I'll ask him to prepare the meals and you'll watch and learn." Marie nodded again and promised to do whatever Benjamin wanted.

Benjamin smiled when Caroline explained the situation to him, his only acknowledgment that he was pleased to help out. Caroline would never have suggested that he take over the duties on a temporary basis if she hadn't known how much pleasure he found in creating special dishes.

By the time Marie and Benjamin had staked out their territory in the kitchen, the situation was well in hand. Marie was looking very humble and grateful, and Benjamin pretended that she wasn't even there. Caroline left the pair and took a fresh cup of tea into the dining room to wait for her father.

The Earl of Braxton entered the dining room an hour later. Caroline sat with him while he ate what he called the most wonderful breakfast in his life. Then they went through the stack of notes that had arrived that morning. Caroline was swamped with flowers and pleas for an immediate audience.

"Did I mention that the Duke of Bradford will be calling on you at two this afternoon?" her father asked. "Two o'clock!" Caroline gasped. She jumped up, patting her hair almost absentmindedly. "That is less than two hours away! I must change my gown at once."

Her father nodded and called after her, "Tonight we attend a dinner party given by Viscount Claymere and his family."

Caroline paused in the doorway. "Isn't Claymere the awkward gentleman I met last night?"

When her father nodded, Caroline rolled her eyes heavenward. "Then I mustn't wear the ivory gown tonight. He's sure to spill something on it. Too bad black isn't fashionable," she called over her shoulder.

Bradford was fifteen minutes late. Caroline was pacing the confines of the main receiving area. She heard Deighton greet him as "your Grace," and then the doors were opened and he was standing there.

He looked extremely fit and was dressed in riding apparel. The buckskin breeches were as snug as the last time she had seen him in them, and she found herself smiling over the handsome figure he cut. His coat was the color of deep chocolate, making his neckcloth look bright white. His Hessians were polished to perfection and Caroline imagined that if she leaned down, she would see her face in the shine.

He had obviously taken care with his dress, but then so had she, Caroline admitted. She wore a lavender gown with cap sleeves. The neckline was square and of a deeper blue color. Mary Margaret had curled her hair into a cluster at the back of her neck, with small curls framing the sides of her face.

Caroline realized that she was staring at Bradford and that he was staring at her. She lifted the hem of her skirt, displaying blue leather shoes, and gave a formal curtsy. "You are late, milord. What kept you?"

Her bluntness brought a smile. "And you are early. Don't you know that a lady must keep her suitor waiting at least twenty minutes so that she will not give the appearance of being overly eager?"

"And are you my suitor?" Caroline asked as she walked toward him.

Bradford saw that her eyes fairly sparkled with mischief and found himself nodding. "And are you overly eager?" he returned.

"But of course," Caroline answered. "I have learned that you are wealthy and respected so I am naturally eager. Isn't that what you believe?" She laughed at his expression, thinking he looked terribly uncomfortable.

"I haven't even greeted you properly and you bait me," Bradford said with a heavy sigh.

"But we have just greeted each other," Caroline contradicted. She began to lose her smile and her flirtatious mood when the Duke of Bradford started to advance upon her at an alarming pace. Caroline backed up and would have avoided his grasp had it not been for the settee blocking her retreat.

Bradford took hold of Caroline by the shoulders and slowly pulled her to him. His intent was most clear, and Caroline frantically tried to push him away as she looked beyond his shoulder. The doors were wide open and her father could walk in at any moment. She knew that Deighton had gone to tell him that Bradford had arrived. It certainly wouldn't do to have him find her in such a compromising position.

"My father-" Caroline never finished her thought. Bradford claimed her mouth in a warm, intoxicating kiss that immediately melted her good intentions. She responded almost at once, cupping the sides of his face with her hands. The kiss drained any thought of rebellion and when Bradford pulled away, Caroline was disappointed. Her look must have told him so because he started to laugh.

"Why didn't you kiss me the way you did last night?" Caroline asked. She realized she was still touching his face and dropped her hands.

"Because once I kiss you that way," he said, mimicking her choice of words with a tender grin, "I don't want to stop. I know my limits," he continued.

"Are you suggesting that I could make you lose your control?" Caroline asked.

Bradford read the amusement lurking in her violet gaze and thought again what an innocent she was. She thought to tease him and didn't have a clue that what she said was true. She could make him lose control.

"Since you do not answer me, I can only conclude that I could!" Caroline laughed, clasping her hands together, and strolled at a sassy pace to one of the wingback chairs flanking the marble fireplace. "That makes me very powerful, milord, doesn't it? And I am only half your size."

Bradford sat down in the other wingback chair and stretched his long, muscular legs in front of him. One boot crossed over the other in a relaxed position as he considered how to answer Caroline. He regarded her for a full minute and Caroline thought he looked almost brooding.

"All right," Caroline said with a sigh. "You aren't in the mood for teasing and besides, I have something important to ask of you before my father arrives. I need a small favor, Bradford, and if you will only agree, I will forever be in your debt." Caroline folded her hands in her lap and waited for Bradford's reply.

"Forever?" Bradford asked, one eyebrow raised. "That is a long time to be in another's debt."

"I exaggerated," Caroline admitted. "I would like you to escort Charity and me to Paul Bleachley's home and help us gain admittance."

Bradford shook his head, sorry that he had to deny her. "Paul would never agree."

"No, you do not understand," Caroline argued. She stood up and began to pace. "In fact, it is quite imperative that Paul not know we are coming. Of course he would say no! My plan is to take him by surprise." She stopped in front of Bradford and smiled. "It's really very simple," she said. When Bradford frowned anew, Caroline found herself growing frustrated. Her father would be there any minute and she wanted to get the arrangements completed before. She put her hands on her hips. "My plan," she explained. "I am only thinking of my cousin… and Paul, too. I am doing what is best for both of them."

That statement got a reaction. Bradford actually started laughing. "And only you know what is best for them?" he asked when he had gained control of himself.

"You are always laughing at me," Caroline muttered, despair sounding in her voice. She heard her father coming down the steps and rushed, "Please agree. You must trust me, Bradford. I really do know what I'm doing. It would be a considerate thing to do!" Caroline realized that she sounded like she was begging. Her back straightened and she gave Bradford what she hoped was a firm look. "I won't be swayed, only delayed," she whispered. Those were Bradford's very words to her the night before, though the subject was of a different nature.

The earl entered the receiving room and smiled. Bradford was laughing and Caroline looked quite pleased with herself.

The next hour was spent in casual conversation. Caroline's father had no intention of leaving before Bradford, and Caroline couldn't think of a way to get the duke alone.

Both father and daughter walked with Bradford to the entryway. "I'll look forward to receiving a note from you," Caroline said as a hint. "No later than tomorrow morning," she added, "or I will be forced to make other arrangements."

"Are you going to Claymere's bash tonight?" the earl asked Bradford. "It should prove an interesting evening. Little Clarissa is to play the spinet and her sister is going to sing."

Bradford couldn't think of anything more amusing. "I'm going to wear Cook's apron so that the viscount won't ruin my gown," Caroline interjected. Her father shot her a look that told her the remark was not the thing, and Caroline lowered her eyes in embarrassment. She really must learn to keep her mouth shut, she thought. Heavens, was she becoming a chatterbox like Charity, telling her every thought?

Bradford appreciated her jest. "Both Milford and I will be in attendance," he promised even as he wondered how he would twist an invitation out of Clay-mere. He knew the viscount wanted to court Caroline

He couldn't allow it, of course. No one was going to have Caroline Richmond but Jered Marcus Benton.

"Does every party begin past bedtime?" Caroline asked her father. She yawned. The rocking motion of the enclosed carriage lulled her into a sleepy state.

"You're an early riser," Charity remarked. "I slept until noon and feel wonderful," she added. "Caroline, do pinch your cheeks again. You look pale." Caroline complied, yawning once again.

"I believe you will both enjoy yourselves tonight," the earl announced. "The Claymeres are a fine family. Did I tell you that the viscount's little sisters are going to perform for us?"

Caroline nodded. She closed her eyes for the rest of the journey and listened to the conversation that flowed between her father and her cousin. Charity was in a fine pitch, since Bradford's note had arrived earlier in the evening. The note was scrawled in a bold style and was to the point. He wrote that he would arrive at ten in the morning and would escort Charity and Caroline to Bleachley's. His last line asked, "Is that considerate enough for you?"

Once Caroline had received Bradford's help, she explained the situation to her father. He agreed to allow her to go, but added that she was to be back by one o'clock so that they could go to her uncle's home for afternoon tea.

Bradford hadn't arrived before them, and Caroline was disappointed. The viscount kept her busy and wide awake. He stepped on her toes more than once and his apologies were more painful than the injury. He simply didn't know when to stop, and his kindness drove Caroline to distraction.

Bradford arrived just minutes before the recital began. Caroline was seated in the back row, with Charity on one side and her father on the other. It wasn't an accidental arrangement. Caroline had forced both of them down beside her so that the viscount would have to sit elsewhere.

Little Clarissa turned out to be a good fifty pounds overweight. She took a long while getting ready and then began to play, again and again, until Caroline lost count of the number of beginnings. The poor girl was trying her best but that proved only adequate. Caroline closed her eyes and tried to listen. And then she drifted off to sleep.

Bradford leaned against the far wall, trying not to let his face mirror his thoughts. He vowed that if that girl began just one more time, he would leap across the audience, grab Caroline, and make for the door.

Milford entered the room, circled the group, and came to stand beside his friend. "What has you grinning?" he asked his friend in a low voice so as not to disturb the Claymere chit.

"The fact that I am here, suffering this mockery of Mozart so that I can be close to Caroline," Bradford admitted.

"And where is she?" Milford asked, glancing around the room.

Bradford looked to the back row and then started to laugh. Several people glanced over at him and he nodded a greeting, trying all the while to regain his bored look. "She's in the middle of the back row, sleeping."

"So she is," Milford whispered with a chuckle. "Smart girl," he remarked.

Caroline slept through little Clarissa's recital. There was a brief flurry, a slight intermission, while Clarissa waited for her sister to prepare her music.

The Earl of Braxton took the opportunity to change seats, for he was eager to hear Catherine Claymere. The viscount had promised that Catherine was quite wonderful and was gifted with a clear sopranic voice. When Charity followed her uncle, both Bradford and Milford took their chairs. Bradford sat on Caroline's right and Milford flanked her left side. "Do we nudge her awake?" Milford lazily inquired.

"Only if she begins to snore," Bradford replied. "God, she's beautiful when she sleeps," he said.

"Are you still getting her out of your blood?" Milford asked with lazy interest.

Bradford didn't answer. He had thought, in the beginning, to take what he wanted and then give her up to another. That plan was displeasing now. He was saved from answering when Clarissa launched into the opening for her sister.

It was almost pleasant, until Catherine opened her mouth and began to sing. The sound was ear-piercing. Bradford was pleased by it, however, because the horrid noise jarred Caroline. She visibly jumped, grabbed hold of Bradford's thigh, and let out a gasp.

Then she remembered where she was and what she was about. She blushed, more because she had fallen asleep than because of her odious reaction to the woman screeching like a trapped bird.

Bradford covered her hand with his, and only then did she realize where she had placed it. She pulled away, giving him a disgruntled look, and turned to immediately smile at Milford.

"Tell me your trick so that I may sleep through this ordeal," Milford whispered.

Caroline had to lean in his direction to hear what he was saying and found herself suddenly hauled back by Bradford.

She folded her hands in her lap and ignored Bradford, staring straight ahead. Bradford stretched and before she could stop him, his arm was draped around her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off but it was a useless endeavor. "Behave yourself," she muttered. "What will people think?"

"That I have staked a claim," Bradford returned. His fingers began to massage the back of Caroline's neck and she found herself fighting the heady sensation.

"Your friend lacks all manners," she told a grinning Milford.

"I have told him so on numerous occasions," Milford whispered back.

She knew, from the silly expression on his face, that she would get no help from him and sighed with exasperation. Then she tried to stand up and find another chair. Heaven help her, she would take a place in the front row and suffer through Catherine's vocal fits if she had to.

Bradford wouldn't let her move. He applied subtle pressure on her shoulders.

"I really wish to be excused," Caroline whispered. She tried then to outstare him, thinking to embarrass him. She failed with that plan, for Bradford just stared back, grinning a lopsided grin that tugged at her heart.

When Catherine finished singing, there was a polite round of applause. Several people started to stand, including Bradford and Caroline, but then Catherine launched into another song. Everyone collapsed back into their chairs-everyone but Caroline, who took advantage of the opportunity and scooted out of the row. She smiled because Bradford was powerless to stop her.

She hurried up the stairs after asking the maid where she could freshen up. There were several people milling about on the lower floor, but the second story was curiously deserted. At the end of a long corridor Caroline found the washroom. There was a full-length mirror inside and Caroline took her time primping.

She didn't have to pinch her cheeks to give them color now. Bradford had taken care of her pale appearance, just by being there, she thought. He caused her to blush inside and out!

Caroline opened the door and found the hallway dark. Someone had smothered the candles that led the way to the steps. She thought it odd and cautiously made her way down the hallway. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she thought she heard a muffled noise behind her. Caroline began to turn, her left hand casually resting on the banister, when she was suddenly propelled forward.

There wasn't even time to scream. She literally flew through the air and frantically tried to grab hold of the railing.

She forced herself to turn, bounced against the railing with her elbow taking most of the impact, and then landed with a thud on her bottom. One of her shoes got caught in the hem of her gown, tearing it, but that wasn't as much of a concern as the terrible rip in the neckline. She had done that to herself, she realized, when she instinctively grabbed her elbow to stop the pain from the first landing. Her fingers had somehow gotten caught in the ribbon threaded through the bodice.

Caroline sat in the middle of the steps, her hair in wild abandon around her shoulders. She rubbed her elbow, aching from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her legs were trembling but she forced herself to stand, holding on to the banister with one hand while she tugged at the top of her gown with the other.

The only salvation to the horror was that no one had seen her. The pain slowly receded, though she still felt as if a thousand hands had just finished beating her. And then anger took hold. Caroline turned, groaning when the movement caused her pain, and looked up at the top of the stairs. It was a long way up. She could have broken her neck! And then it all settled into her brain. Someone had wanted her to break her neck.

It was Bradford who found her. When Caroline hadn't immediately returned to the drawing room, he had begun to fidget until Milford was giving him looks of disapproval. "What's keeping her?" Bradford muttered. He considered then that she might have been waylaid by some eager suitor and that thought propelled him to his feet. He stepped on Milford's shoes and didn't pause to address his rudeness.

Curious now, Milford followed along, trying not to wince openly when Catherine Claymere hit a high note. "What in God's name…" Bradford stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face a mask of confusion. She looked as if she had just come from a rather vigorous romp in the hay. The only thing missing from her disheveled appearance was straw clinging to her hair. And, he thought with cynicism, the man she was romping with.

He knew he was jumping to conclusions but there she stood with her bosom more out than in, and a torn gown that did indicate mischief. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. And yet…

Caroline watched the play of emotions cross Bradford's face. She decided that both he and Milford had stared at her long enough. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and noticed then that Milford had his hand on Bradford's arm. Why, it almost appeared that Milford was actually restraining him!

"True gentlemen would not gawk. They would offer a lady in distress some assistance," Caroline said with as much haughtiness as she could muster.

Bradford was the first to move from his stupor. He jerked Milford's arm aside and started up the steps. "Let her explain, Bradford," Milford insisted in a furious whisper as he followed along. He took the time to grab one of Caroline's shoes which was in his path. Bradford tried to school his features but he was so angry that he knew he couldn't pull it off. All he wanted was to get his hands on the man who had done this, and soon! He took his jacket off and had it settled over Caroline's shoulders in bare seconds.

"Who was upstairs with you?" Bradford asked. His voice was deceptively calm. Caroline looked to Mil-ford, hoping he could explain his friend's strange behavior, and saw that Milford was giving Bradford a worried glance.

Bradford grabbed hold of Caroline's shoulders. His face radiated his fury. Catherine Claymere's voice strained through the doors, escalating in volume.

"We'd better get her out of here before the Claymere chit winds down. Those are desperate people in there, just waiting for a chance to escape." Milford tried to lighten the tension in his friend and thought it a good idea to get both of them outside before Bradford let loose his anger.

Caroline turned to Milford, ignoring Bradford's grip. "What does he think has happened?"

Milford shrugged his shoulders while Bradford swung Caroline up into his arms. "Tell Braxton that Caroline has torn her gown and that I am seeing her home." His voice was curt and didn't brook any argument.

He looked at Caroline then and said, "When we are outside, you will tell me the name of the man who did this and then I will-"

"Do you believe that I met a man upstairs?" It suddenly began to make sense and Caroline's eyes widened. "Does he believe that I met someone upstairs and that we-" Bradford started moving down the stairs at a quick pace and Caroline grabbed hold of his shoulders. "Bradford," she said as she tried to turn his cheek toward her, "I fell down the steps." She was immediately angry with herself for giving him an explanation. "Of course, that was after my secret liaison. The man was really quite incredible… and quick," Caroline snapped out. She heard Milford laugh behind her but ignored him and continued to goad Bradford. "He had the most bizarre ideas too. Why, he insisted upon tearing the bottom of my gown and attacking my feet. Such an unusual way of showing affection, don't you agree?"

"Will you lower your voice?" Bradford demanded. His own voice had lost its edge and the harshness faded from his features. "You're starting to sound like the Claymere girl."

They had moved to the front door and Milford hurried to see it opened and closed it behind the three of them. He would give Braxton Brad's message, but not before he saw them off. He didn't want to miss anything. He had a feeling about these two and wanted to see if he was right.

"You could have injured yourself," Bradford muttered into the top of Caroline's hair. His jaw brushed against her, and Milford found himself gloating with satisfaction. He was rarely wrong in his feelings and wondered when Bradford would recognize what was happening to him.

Bradford heard Milford chuckling and turned to glare at him. "She could have killed herself, man."

"I did injure myself," Caroline interjected, wanting some comfort. "I hit my elbow and fell on my-"

"What happened, love? Do you wear spectacles like Charity?" he asked. His voice was filled with tenderness and compassion, and that served to be Caroline's undoing.

"It was terrible," she confessed, thinking she sounded quite pitiful. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought about how frightened she had been, and then she realized that he had called her by an endearment. "And I have not given you permission to call me love."

Bradford's carriage arrived and Milford hastened to open the door. "Watch her head, Brad," he warned just seconds before Caroline ducked. She had to rest her cheek against Bradford's shoulder and liked the sensation immensely. His spicy aroma was quite pleasant, she thought with a little smile.

He settled her on his lap, called a reminder to Milford to explain to her father, and then leaned back, content to hold her next to him. He inhaled her special fragrance and heard himself exhale with satisfaction. It felt so right holding her like this. The only problem was that he was fast becoming unsatisfied. Holding her was fine, but Bradford wanted more, much more.

The carriage started moving and Caroline reluctantly sat up. Bradford watched her, his expression hiding nothing, and Caroline started trembling again.

"I don't think it is proper for you to look at me like that," Caroline whispered. Her face was just inches from his, yet she couldn't draw back any farther. Nor did she want to, she admitted to herself, even as she clutched the lapels of his jacket closer to her chest.

"I've never been known to be proper," Bradford answered. His voice sounded coated with honey. "And that is one of your requirements for a suitor, isn't it?"

"You're not nice either," Caroline commented, trying to break the spell he was weaving.

"And why have you come to that conclusion?" Bradford asked, raising one eyebrow with curiosity.

"Because you believed that I had done something improper," Caroline answered. "Don't look so innocent, Bradford!" she continued when he gave her one of his silly grins.

"Only for a moment, and I did not think you had behaved improperly," he explained. He brushed her hair back over her shoulder in a gentle gesture. "I believed someone else had taken advantage," he went on.

Caroline shook her head. "Do you always think the worst of people?" she asked, frowning. "That isn't very nice either."

Bradford gave a mock sigh. "Is there anything that you find appealing about me?" he asked. His fingertip stroked a long line down the side of her face. Caroline felt goosebumps cover her arms and tried to push his hand away.

She wanted, more than anything else in the world, for Bradford to kiss her. "I like the way that you kiss me," she whispered. "Is that terribly improper for me to admit?" she asked.

Bradford didn't answer. Instead, he cupped the sides of her face and drew her toward him. His mouth touched hers in a feathery caress that brought a sigh of contentment.

Caroline parted her lips and pressed herself against Bradford, loving the feel of his hard body, reveling in the differences between them. It was all the encouragement he needed. One hand moved to the back of her neck and the other fell to grip her waist. He opened his mouth over hers and the kiss immediately changed in intensity. Bradford was no longer tender but demanding as he took what she had so willingly, so innocently offered.

Caroline's heart began to pound and she found she couldn't quite catch her breath. He was draining her of all reason, all sense of caution. Her tongue stroked his while her fingers explored the soft texture of his hair. She felt overwhelmed by his touch, his scent. She didn't want the kiss to end, moaning a soft protest when Bradford tore his mouth from hers.

He took a deep breath, hoping the action would cool his growing need. It was all futile thinking on his part. She felt so soft, so incredibly good against him. He decided to act the role of a true gentleman, place her on the seat across from him, and guard her innocence as any decent nobleman would, but then he looked into her eyes. Her gaze held a slumberous look, as if she had just been awakened to the physical pleasures shared between a man and a woman.

Bradford was compelled to kiss her again, telling himself that it would be the very last that they shared this night, and knew when his tongue met hers, when the hot excitement exploded into raw passion between them, that he couldn't stop. His fingers brushed a trail down the smooth column of her slender neck, hesitated for the briefest of seconds, and then continued until her eached the soft fullness of her breasts. And all thoughts of playing the gentleman vanished.

Caroline tried to protest this new intimacy as she fought the sensations. Bradford's mouth had moved to the side of her neck, and his breath was warm and sensual against her ear as his tongue caused such blissful havoc.

His mouth found her breasts and Caroline was powerless to stop him. She felt like she was floating in his arms, so safe and secure, and let the flood of emotions claim her attention. She was so innocent and each touch, each kiss, opened a new world of feeling. She instinctively trusted Bradford to know when to stop. He was leading the way into this erotic world and she believed that he would know when it was time to call a halt. He was the experienced one.

"Caroline, you feel so good," Bradford whispered, his voice harsh now with need. "So soft. You were made for loving." His tongue was circling the nipple of one breast while his hand gently caressed the other. Caroline twisted in his arms, trying to avoid the sweet torture, yet clung to his shoulders and silently begged for more. Bradford held her still and finally took the straining nipple into his mouth. When he began to suck, and his tongue began to stroke the sensitive skin, Caroline thought that she would go out of her mind.

A burning knot of frustration was growing inside Caroline. She began to ache with a need she couldn't define, couldn't understand. It frightened her, this sensual torture he caused, and she began to truly struggle. "Bradford, no! We must stop now."

He silenced her protest with a long, hot kiss and shifted her so that she was aware of his hardness against her. Caroline became more alarmed, realizing that Bradford didn't have any immediate plan to stop his tender assault. "I want you, Caroline, as I have never wanted another woman."

Her skirt was being lifted and his hand caressed her thigh. Caroline felt like she was being branded, so hot was his touch, his demand. She jerked away from him. Her breathing was as ragged as his, though anger had replaced passion.

"You were supposed to stop before it went this far," she whispered.

It took a moment for Caroline's statement to filter through Bradford's haze of passion. By the time he felt in some semblance of control again, Caroline had moved to the seat across from him, once again clutching his jacket over her torn gown.

Caroline was suddenly terribly embarrassed. She trembled and the knot inside her wouldn't go away. She realized that she really wanted Bradford and that absolutely horrified her. She belonged in a tavern, she told herself. She was cold now, cold from the shame penetrating, and as humiliating as it was, she began to cry. Lord, she hadn't cried in years, and damnation, it was all his fault. He was the experienced one and should have known what he was about!

Bradford saw the tears stream down Caroline's cheeks but was in no mood to offer comfort. He was in acute pain and it was all her fault. Didn't she realize her appeal? Didn't she know the temptation she flaunted? What kind of people raised her? he asked himself with building fury. Hadn't anyone taken the time to educate her in the boundaries of flirting? She had reacted with such ardor, and Bradford thought that her need for completion matched his. He sincerely hoped that it did, he thought with anger. God, he hoped she was hurting every bit as much as he was.

Caroline glared at Bradford while she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the edge of his jacket, hoping he would dare to criticize her for it so that she could lash out at him. She smoothed her gown and moved and then let out a moan. Her backside was tender and most probably black and blue from the fall on the steps, and a part of her thought it peculiar that it hadn't hurt much at all when Bradford was kissing her.

The carriage hit a pothole on one of the side streets that led to her father's townhouse and Caroline gritted her teeth when her bottom was smacked anew. She didn't think she could stand up if her life depended upon it.

"What the hell are you groaning about?" Bradford all but yelled the question. He stretched his legs out as far as the carriage would allow, taking the torn hem of Caroline's gown with him.

"I am in pain," Caroline snapped out.

"Good," Bradford replied. His voice was curt but he was no longer yelling. Caroline was sorry for it, as she was aching now for a fight. "I am in pain too."

"And why are you in pain?" Caroline asked.

"Are you serious? I am in pain because you have made me want you. Are you really such an innocent?" His voice had increased in volume and he leaned forward, his hands on his knees, glaring at her.

"I was an innocent until you took advantage of me. I believed that you were a gentleman and that you would stop before taking such… liberties! A gentleman!" Caroline's voice was laced with shame. "You want me! ha! Just what did you have in mind, Bradford?" Now she was the one yelling and thought that she was probably acting like a child. She didn't care in the least, as the anger was removing the knot in her stomach and her legs had stopped trembling.

"You place too much value on yourself," Bradford answered. "I doubt that you could hold my interest for blood."

His words hurt Caroline but she would die before letting him know that. "Just what are your intentions?" she asked. Her voice was low and determined. "To have me and then move on to another? I actually trusted you! I have been a fool."

Bradford saw the pain in Caroline's gaze and his anger evaporated. He was the cause of her distress. He had acted like a rake and, for the first time in his life, felt guilty over it. "I was acting like a gentleman until you intoxicated me, Caroline." Bradford muttered the words of apology, hoping that she would realize that he was telling her he was sorry. That was all he was willing to give her. In his mind, it was more than enough.

"Are you saying that I am the one at fault?" She sounded incredulous.

"Caroline, quit acting like I have just taken your virginity," Bradford snapped out. "I spoke in the heat of passion."

"So I am not to listen to what you say?" Caroline asked, frowning. "I am not to trust you?"

"Trust has no place between a man and a woman," Bradford dictated. His voice was harsh again.

"You can't love someone without trust," Caroline argued. All anger was gone now but his comments confused her.

He didn't answer her remark and Caroline realized that he really believed what he said. A feeling of sadness invaded her. "I could never marry a man who didn't trust me."

"And did I offer marriage?" Bradford asked.

"You did not," Caroline replied. "I see no reason for this attraction to continue, Bradford. I want what you aren't able to give," she continued. "Since we have just agreed that there is no future for us, I believe it best to say good-bye."

"Fine," Bradford remarked, mimicking her. He realized, even as he muttered the agreement, that he had no intention of letting her go. God, but she confused him! "You want a fool," Bradford commented.

Caroline didn't answer. The carriage drew to a halt in front of her home and she tried to get the door opened before Bradford moved. His feet were tangled in her hem and the gown ripped more.

Bradford removed himself from the carriage and then lifted Caroline into his arms. She didn't resist him but her face mirrored her discomfort. "You're going to be stiff tomorrow," Bradford commented.

Caroline considered telling him that she might have been pushed but immediately canceled that notion. She was beginning to believe that she had only imagined the noise behind her. She was exhausted from the long day, and she didn't want to spar with Bradford over the grim possibility that someone actually wanted to harm her.

Deighton opened the door to Bradford's mutterings. For the man's advanced age, he proved to be light on his feet. He removed himself from the entrance just as Bradford rushed in with Caroline holding on for dear life.

"I believe you should be fitted for spectacles as soon as possible," Bradford remarked as he followed Deighton up the stairs, holding Caroline in a grip that she thought was almost as painful as her fall. "You need a keeper, Caroline."

"Lower your voice," Caroline demanded. "And I don't need a keeper."

"Yes you do. You need someone to protect you from yourself."

"Are you offering for the position?" Caroline asked. Bradford continued to frown and Caroline rushed on, "I would rather be in the clutches of a pack of wolves than under your protection. I would have a better chance of surviving," she added with gusto.

"The clutches of wolves?" Bradford's eyes showed a trace of amusement.

"You know my meaning," Caroline muttered. "If the carriage ride home was a sample of your protection-"

"Caroline, you're yelling," Bradford remarked with a nod toward Deighton.

Caroline looked alarmed and then lowered her voice. "Listen to me well, Bradford. We are finished with each other. Benjamin will see to my protection."

Deighton opened the door to her bedroom and stood aside, Mary Margaret was sitting in a rocking chair next to the window but jumped up and rushed forward when she saw her mistress.

"Out." The single demand literally propelled Mary Margaret through the doorway. She didn't hesitate at all and that infuriated Caroline.

"Don't order my maid about," Caroline demanded as she watched Mary Margaret shut the door behind her. "If I call out, Benjamin would be here in a blink of your cynical eyes and he would tear you apart before asking a single question."

"Then call him!" The challenge was more than clear and Caroline immediately backed down. Bradford walked over to the bed and placed Caroline on the quilt. He tried to be gentle but she still bounced twice before settling. "I said call him!"

"I will not call him," Caroline stated with great emphasis. She pulled Bradford's jacket from beneath her, uncaring that her torn gown displayed far more than was considered decent. She threw the garment toward the man towering over her and said, "Remove yourself from my presence. I hope I never see you again."

Bradford ignored the jacket and leaned down. He effectively trapped Caroline between his arms. When his face was just inches from hers, he said, "Now you listen well, my little adversary. What's between us isn't finished yet. I will have you, one way or the other. If it means marriage, then we will marry. But we play by my rules, Caroline Richmond, not yours. Do you understand me?"

"When hell becomes heaven, milord," Caroline replied with gusto. "When the Colonies annex England, when King George abdicates, and most especially when ill-bred scoundrels become gentlemen, when the odious Duke of Bradford becomes considerate. In other words, Jered Marcus Benton, never will I be yours. Do you understand me?"

She closed her eyes and waited for his explosion, his furious retaliation. The rumble confused her. She opened her eyes to see that Bradford was having grave difficulty keeping a straight face.

"Someone really ought to take you aside and explain to you when you are being insulted, milord. Perhaps Milford could tutor you. He certainly seems to be your opposite," Caroline went on. "Though how he can consider you a friend is bewildering. You are such an obnoxious, unbending man."

"Unbending? I have just broken a vow I made years ago and all because of a violet-eyed wild woman who is driving me to distraction. In the space of two weeks you have turned my world upside down."

Caroline frowned over his statement, wondering what he meant by a vow made such a long time ago. How did it affect her? She wasn't given an opportunity to ask. Bradford's mouth was suddenly claiming hers in a kiss that required her full attention.

Caroline tried to keep her mouth closed and pushed against his shoulders with all her might but it was no use.

It wasn't possible to ignore what he was doing to her. She was trapped between his arms, her mouth held captive by his. Just one last kiss, Caroline told herself as she wrapped her arms around Bradford's neck, just one farewell kiss. She would savor it, remember it for the rest of her life. She gave herself over to Bradford's demands, letting his tongue stroke the inside of her mouth, then copying his ritual, and heard him sigh. She answered him with a sigh of her own, when he reluctantly pulled away from her and stood up. "That was a good-bye kiss, Bradford," Caroline whispered. Her lips felt bruised and swollen and her eyes filled with tears. She was exhausted from the events of the long day, she told herself as she watched him walk toward the door. She certainly wasn't crying because he was walking out of her life.

"Yes, love," Bradford called over his shoulder. He had picked up his jacket and had it slung over one broad shoulder. "Good-bye," he said as he opened the door. "Until tomorrow."

Lord but he was a stubborn man! Hadn't they agreed that they wouldn't continue with the relationship? That there was no future for them together? Caroline went over the conversation in her mind, remembering precisely that she had stated with great emphasis that she could never marry a man she didn't trust. Or had she said that she couldn't marry a man who didn't trust her? She frowned, no longer sure of what she had said, and immediately placed the blame on Bradford. He had made her so angry that she could barely speak let alone argue with any effectiveness. But she did remember Bradford's comment about marriage. He had made it perfectly clear that he was not interested in marrying her, hadn't he?

"The man is driving me out of my mind," Caroline muttered. She stood up and quickly stripped out of her gown. Mary Margaret had thoughtfully placed her blue robe on the bottom of her bed and she put it on, wondering where the little redheaded maid had gone. Probably off trembling somewhere in a corner, she thought, and all because Bradford had barked at her. She sighed with frustration, picked up the gown she had just discarded and placed it on the chair, and then went to stand before the window and stare out into the dark night.

Caroline stood there for the longest time, trying to find answers that eluded her. Her defenses slowly abandoned her and she finally admitted the truth. She had always considered herself an honest person and knew that right now she wasn't being completely honest with herself. She pretended outrage yet felt like smiling inside. As soon as she admitted that horrid fact, she started to laugh. Oh, Lord, the truth of it fairly buckled her to her knees. She was falling in love with the arrogant Englishman!

What a contradiction she had become since arriving in England! Even now, as she continued to laugh, tears of melancholy coursed down her cheeks.

He was a rascal and a rake and totally unsuitable, she admitted. And she had gone round the bend for allowing herself to be attracted to him. The man had boasted that he would have her but never once mentioned the word love, and had casually stated that trust did not have a place in a relationship between a man and a woman.

She hadn't realized that loving could cause such distress, such misery. And if loving Jered Marcus Benton proved to be miserable, then she promised that he would also share in that same misery.

It would take supreme effort on her part but it was a challenge she couldn't resist. The reward would be too great.

Just as he had declared that he wasn't giving up on her, she now vowed that she wasn't going to give up on him. Of course, he only meant to have her, but she wanted much more.

The poor man! She almost felt sympathy for him. Almost! But she couldn't show any mercy, not if she was to succeed. Not if she was going to reform Bradford and make him suitable. Perhaps, she thought with a laugh that echoed throughout the bedroom, with God's help she just might pull it off.

He was a rascal and a rake but she had just accepted that he was her rascal and her rake. She would have him, but on her terms, not his. Yes, she did love the arrogant man, and if it was required to move heaven and earth, she would find a way to make him love her. Oh, but he was misguided! He spoke of games and playing by his rules! Caroline smiled and really did feel a bit sorry for him. Why, he was the innocent! And he just didn't understand… yet. This wasn't a game at all.