Julie Garwood (35 page)

“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 imbecil 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 light-hearted 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.