"I haven't daunted my charms," Caroline began. "Loretta's gown is far more… flaunting than mine. And you are the one who has flirted, Bradford, not me. Don't you dare glare at me like that. You flirted with a married woman, or did you forget that she was married?"
She didn't wait for his answer but continued, "I did ignore you, but only after you insulted my dress. That was probably very childish of me but I wanted this evening to be perfect and I overreacted to your horrid comments."
"Why?" Bradford's expression was guarded and Caroline couldn't tell how he was reacting to her argument. "Why did you hope for a perfect evening?"
Caroline turned her gaze to stare intently at his cravat. "I had hoped that you… that is, I did believe…" Caroline sighed. She couldn't continue.
Bradford found himself sidetracked by the distress in her voice. He lessened his grip and began to gently caress her back. "We will stand here all night if necessary," Bradford said, "until you tell me what's going on inside your head."
Caroline knew he meant what he said. She nodded with acceptance and then said, "I had hoped that you would say something… nice to me! There, I have told you the truth and I'll thank you not to laugh. I wanted to hear you say something other than you want me. Is that asking too much, Bradford?"
Bradford shook his head. He forced her to look back up at him, using his hand below her chin to get his way. "Nice words aren't what I had in mind right now. I believe I would much rather throttle you. You have run me in circles these past months. Worse," he added with a look that made Caroline tremble in trepidation, "I have allowed it." He paused, determined to lower his voice. "The chaos is over, Caroline, and so is the game. My patience has ended."
"Have you been patient because you waited for me to admit that I want you?" She whispered her question, a purposeful set down to his bellow. Caroline's expression showed her distress. "I do want you. There, does my admission please you? Before you gloat over it, Bradford, understand that in my heart, it isn't enough. I also happen to love you. It is therefore, in my mind, acceptable to want you because I love you."
Bradford's irritation vanished with her declaration. He found himself grinning, felt a sense of satisfaction that almost overwhelmed him. He was content. He leaned down and tried to kiss Caroline, but she evaded him with a curt shake of her head.
"Don't look so smug, Bradford. I didn't want to fall in love with you. You aren't a very nice man to love. Why I couldn't have chosen someone like Paul Bleachley is beyond me. I believe you have grown on me," Caroline continued, "but then, so do warts, so that doesn't explain anything very satisfactorily, does it?" She sighed again, with acceptance this time. "And now you are going to kiss me until I am senseless, aren't you?"
Bradford smiled and placed a chaste kiss on the top of Caroline's head. He inhaled her sweet fragrance and felt intoxicated by it.
"I really wish that you wouldn't, Bradford."
"Did you actually believe that you could wear that gown and not be kissed?"
"I did." It was a bare whisper made against Bradford's mouth. And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him. His mouth was so warm, his tongue like silken heat as it penetrated and stroked hers. Caroline's arms slipped around Bradford's waist, just as his arms circled her, and allowed him to weave his magical web of passion.
The kiss finally ended and Bradford had to hold Caroline steady. She rested her cheek against his chest, waiting for him to tell her what was in his heart.
"Is it so painful loving me?" Bradford asked. She could hear the laughter in his voice and bristled over it.
"Just like a stomachache," Caroline told him. "I went along for the longest time disliking you so and I grew quite comfortable with that feeling, and then suddenly there it was."
"The stomachache or accepting that you loved me?"
Bradford chuckled over her comparison. "And you accuse me of being unromantic!"
A discreet knock on the door interrupted the discussion. Caroline was frustrated, for she was certain Bradford was about to tell her that he loved her.
"Brad? Aimsmond would like a word with you." It was Milford's voice and he didn't sound happy.
"You've probably made my uncle angry for dragging me in here," Caroline said. "I'll go and find him and bring him to you," she added as she walked to the door. "And do not think that our discussion has ended, Bradford." With those words of warning, Caroline shut the door behind her.
Caroline expected to see Milford waiting outside the door, but he was gone. She took a moment to straighten her hair and smooth her skirt and then hurried toward the salon. Nigel Crestwall was lurking in the shadows and grabbed her as she was about to round the corner. The obnoxious man had her pinned up against the wall before she could issue a single word of protest. He began to place wet, slobbery kisses against her neck and whisper obscene suggestions into her ear. Caroline was so outraged, so stunned by the attack, that she didn't immediately fight him off.
She finally began to struggle, just as Bradford came around the corner and spotted them.
Nigel never knew what hit him. He was suddenly flying through the air and then landed with a soft thud against the back door. The vase on the table next to Nigel's crumbled body wobbled and toppled on top of his head.
Caroline stared at Crestwall for a long minute, trembling with disgust.
"This is your fault," Bradford muttered, and Caroline was so surprised by the vehement statement that she looked at him in amazement.
She became truly frightened then, for she had never seen such a look of fury on his face before. The power was back, in both his intimidating stance and his expression, and Caroline was actually afraid of him.
She shook her head, trying to ward off the fear, and made herself continue to look at him. "The man attacked me and it's my fault?" she asked in a whisper.
Nigel was trying to stand up, his eyes darting in one direction and then the other, and Caroline knew he sought an avenue of escape. Bradford watched him while he said to Caroline, "If you didn't dress like a common woman, you wouldn't be treated like one."
His statement hung between them. Caroline's fear left her and she became outraged. "Is that the excuse you give yourself whenever you touch me? That I am common and it is therefore acceptable?"
Bradford didn't answer her. Nigel was edging past them, his eyes looking wild with fright. Bradford reached out with one hand, grabbed him by his collar, and slammed him up against the wall, until the man's feet were dangling in the air. "If you ever touch her again, I'll see you dead. Do we understand each other?"
Nigel couldn't answer-Bradford's hold, pushing against his neck, precluded any sounds getting through his throat-but he was able to nod. Bradford released him and continued to watch him until Nigel had raced to the front door, opened it, and disappeared into the night. Caroline wondered what Rachel would make of her fiance’s sudden disappearance and then put the matter aside.
Bradford turned his fury on Caroline. He stood before her, blocking her exit. Caroline straightened her shoulders and said, "I did nothing to entice him. And I would have your trust in this matter. You didn't see what happened."
"Do not mention the word trust to me again or I will beat you! It's time we understood each other, Caroline."
"There you are, Bradford!" The marquis's voice broke the tension. Caroline was the first to move. She turned, forced a smile on her face, and watched her uncle Milo slowly advance toward them.
"I'm going to head home now," the marquis explained. He took hold of Caroline's hand and smiled. "You'll be coming to see me again tomorrow?" he asked his niece with eagerness in his tone.
"Of course," Caroline agreed with a nod.
"Good! Bradford, I expect to see you on my doorstep and soon, my boy," the marquis stated.