The large canopy bed in Bradford's room had thick drapes that were tied back during the day. Caroline tested the mattress while Bradford readied himself for dinner. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she untied both drapes. She was hidden from view but her throaty laugh told him she was enjoying herself. "It will be toasty in here," she called out to him. "Nice and warm."
Bradford walked over to the bed and pulled the curtain aside. His bare chest glistened from his bath. Caroline smiled up at him and stretched out on the covers. She clasped her hands behind her head, imitating his habit, and gave him a slow, seductive wink.
"Have you ever been cold in my bed?" Bradford demanded. His voice was laced with amusement, a mockery to the ferocious frown he displayed.
Caroline was dressed only in a robe and one thigh was exposed for her husband's view. Bradford's gaze slowly traveled the distance between her head and her toes and when he was again looking into her eyes, the amusement was gone.
"You entice me, Caroline," Bradford said. His voice had taken on a gruff edge.
"Is there time?" Caroline asked in a breathless whisper, a reaction to Bradford's hungry look. She undid the tie to her belt with a bewitching smile that only intensified Bradford's desire, struggled out of the confinement, and reached out for her husband.
Bradford didn't decline the invitation. He stripped out of the breeches he had just put on and stretched out beside his wife. Caroline waited for him to take her into his arms, and after a long minute she realized he waited for her to turn to him. She laughed, a joyful, uninhibited sound that brought a smile to Bradford's face, and settled herself on top of Bradford.
And then she began to weave her magical spell upon his body, transforming him from the controlled, disciplined Duke of Bradford into the wild warrior that lurked just beneath his skin.
Bradford allowed the sweet agony until he felt himself ready to explode. His voice became harsh then with his demand that she put an end to his torment.
Caroline ignored him and continued to drive him to the point of no return.
Bradford let out a warrior's cry and Caroline suddenly found herself flat on her back. "I will show no mercy," he growled against the corner of her mouth. And then he began to pleasure-drug her until she was begging him to have done. He grimaced with satisfaction and the pain building inside his loins, pulled her back on top of him, and entered her with a deliberate thrust that ended all the teasing, all the enticing.
Caroline threw her head back and emitted a low moan that Bradford answered with another and another thrust. They both found their release at the exact instant.
Caroline felt as if she was in the center of the sky, with Bradford holding her safe. She slowly floated back to reality with a satisfied smile.
Her head rested against Bradford's chest and she listened to his heart beat against her own. She waited until his breathing had slowed and then whispered,
"I love you."
It had become a ritual, telling him that she loved him as soon as they had finished their lovemaking, and as always, she waited to hear him say the words to her. She knew that she could demand it, and probably get her way, but she wanted the admission to come from Bradford's heart.
Bradford squeezed Caroline and sighed with satisfaction. It was his only acknowledgment that he had even heard her declaration, and Caroline once again accepted that he wasn't ready yet.
She forced the sadness out of her expression and propped herself up on her elbows to gaze into his eyes. "Let's stay here the rest of the night."
"A notable suggestion," Bradford answered with a grin. "But your family will probably demand an explanation. Will you tell them what kept us or shall I?"
Caroline promptly blushed. "A gentleman wouldn't talk about such things," she said. "I suppose we better get dressed then."
She tried to move off of Bradford but he held her steady. "Not yet, Caroline. I think we should go over the arrangements one more time."
Caroline rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. "I know them by heart, Bradford. I'm not to leave your side during the ball, not to run off anywhere with Charity, and if anything happens and you must leave my side, then I am to be glued to Milford until you return."
Bradford nodded, his expression serious. Caroline smoothed his brow with her hand. "Please don't worry, Bradford. The men you hired haven't come up with a single clue. Besides, I told you that it was probably some vindictive female who wanted you for herself and thought to scare me off."
Now it was Bradford who showed his exasperation. "So this alleged lady pushed you down a flight of steps, sawed through the wheel of my carriage, and then wrote you that letter? This is your suggestion?"
"Not a lady, Bradford, a woman. There is a distinct difference. And it makes sense to me. She could have hired someone to tamper with the carriage wheel."
Bradford kept his thoughts to himself. His wife was such an innocent, and he didn't wish to alarm her over the information he had gathered. It was his duty to protect her from harm and he didn't want her to be frightened, only cautious. Until the trap was closed, the proof complete, she wasn't going to be out of his sight. She belonged to him now, and anyone who dared touch her wouldn't live to tell about it.
Bradford was quiet while he dressed. Caroline kept getting in his way, and when he paused in his duties to tell her that her bedroom was right next to his, and that she could dress with ease in there, his wife openly scoffed and told him in no uncertain terms that separate bedrooms were not to her liking.
"I will not allow Henderson in here to assist me with you running around without your clothes on," Bradford growled.
Caroline stood in front of the oval mirror, brushing her hair, unimpressed with his comment. "Well?"
"You're no longer a boy, Bradford. You can dress yourself now. I have been doing so for years."
"Your maid grumbles over it."
"Mary Margaret has enough to do without chasing me around."
Bradford gave up the argument and went downstairs to wait. He paced the confines of the receiving room, a cognac in hand, and brooded over the evening ahead. He had almost declined the invitation to Clavenhurst, the Marquis of Aimsmond's grand home, because of all the difficulties of keeping Caroline safe in such a large crowd. He couldn't decline, of course, for the marquis was Caroline's uncle and would be hurt if she didn't attend.
The ball had a dual purpose. Charity and Paul were to be married in two days and the affair was a prenuptial celebration. It was also given in honor of the Duke and Duchess of Bradford, the first affair that he and Caroline would join as husband and wife.
Caroline appeared in the doorway, dressed in a shimmering gown of ice-blue silk, and found her husband leaning against the mantel of the fireplace. His ferocious frown slowly eased, replaced by an arrogant look that puzzled Caroline.
She made a dramatic curtsy, a sparkle in her violet eyes that mimicked the color of her gown, and then smiled when Bradford lifted his cognac in a salute.
"You were frowning just a moment ago and now you look very pleased with yourself," Caroline remarked. And most handsome, she thought to herself. He was wearing formal black and when he stood away from the fireplace, he looked terribly big and powerful again. Caroline wondered when his appearance would cease to cause the quickening of her pulse. Just looking at him made her muscles tighten with a yearning to have him take her into his arms.
Caroline had never been much good at hiding her thoughts, and Bradford knew exactly what she was thinking. "If you continue to look at me like that, we won't be going anywhere," Bradford remarked. He placed his goblet on the mantel and slowly walked over to stand before his wife. His blood had started to feel uncomfortably warm, his clothes were becoming too confining, and it was all because his beautiful wife had given him that special look. He couldn't resist taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly.