Julie Garwood (36 page)

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 sighed 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 hiccuping 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 stomachache.”

“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.