Julie Garwood

by Rebellious Desire

  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 bannister, 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 bannister 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 Milford, 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,” C
aroline 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 he reached 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 terribl
y 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.”