Bradford entered her with a full thrust. Caroline let out a soft cry and he immediately stopped, tensing against her. "God, Caroline, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

He started to pull away but Caroline arched against him, trapping him inside her with her nails digging into his hips. "Don't stop, Bradford, please," she begged.

Bradford cupped the sides of her face and watched the pleasure he gave his wife with each thrust. Her eyes had turned the color of deep blue and when he increased his pace, she moaned, a deep primitive sound that reached his soul, pulled him into the eye of the storm.

He surrendered to the splendor when he felt Caroline tense against him and knew that she had found her release. And then he collapsed on top of her, spent and satisfied.

Caroline listened to Bradford's harsh breathing, felt his heart beat against her own, and closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment.

And then she waited for him to tell her that he loved her. With each passing second, her contentment faded.

Bradford rolled to his side and took Caroline into his arms. "It seems that this is the only place where we don't argue," he whispered.

"Are the beds comfortable at Bradford Place?" she asked. Her casual question told him that nothing had changed.

He refused to let her rile him. "Some of it isn't furnished. God, but you're stubborn, Caroline. Only admit that you belong to me and you can stay here."

"I have never said that I didn't belong to you," Caroline replied, surprised by his interpretation. "You know exactly why we argue. And until you realize that I won't settle for-"

"You can take what you need from this house," Bradford interrupted. He wasn't about to back down, and his remark told Caroline just how unbending he was.

"Why do you send the guards with me?" she asked, changing the subject. "I know that you talked with Rachel," she added, trying to see his face.

Bradford held her against his chest, ignoring her struggle to move. "Rachel wasn't responsible," he announced. "She wasn't behind the attempts."

"Are you sure?" Caroline succeeded in pulling free of Bradford's arms. She sat up and frowned in confusion.

Bradford appreciated the pretty picture his wife presented. Her curly hair tumbled around her face, enhancing the slender column of her neck. The tops of her breasts peeked out from the covers she clutched to herself, enticing him.

"Bradford, I asked you if you were sure," Caroline stated again.

Bradford reluctantly pulled himself back to the conversation. "I'm sure."

Caroline sighed. "You know, I believe you have a very relaxed attitude about all this," she muttered. "If someone had tried to harm you, I would tear London apart looking for him. You act bored with the matter."

"I promised that I would handle the situation," Bradford stated. "You don't need to know more than that. It's my worry, not yours."

"No, Bradford, it's our worry."

Bradford sighed over that remark and then commented, "Rachel believes that you've succeeded in talking your father out of marrying her mother. She had grand plans of a financial arrangement and you threw a stick in her spokes."

"Why would she think such a ridiculous thing?" Caroline asked, showing her amazement.

Bradford thought a long minute and then made the decision to tell her. "Because your father told her so."

"But why would he do that?"

"Caroline, your father was being pressured and he used you as his excuse. It was too difficult to tell Rachel's mother the truth, that he didn't want to marry her. He took the easy way out, by using you as the scapegoat."

Caroline shook her head, denying it was true. "That would be a cowardly thing to do," she whispered.

"In most cases," Bradford agreed. He reached out and pulled Caroline back into his arms. "But your father is different. He lived alone, in his own little world, for such a long time-"

"Fourteen years," Caroline interjected.

"Yes, well, he isn't sophisticated enough to deal with the likes of the Tillman woman. Her claws were out to trap him and he used the only route of escape he could think of."

"He was afraid to be honest with her?" Caroline asked. "Is that what you're suggesting?"

Bradford sighed again. "He's an old man, Caroline, and set in his ways. Think of him as bewildered, not afraid."

"He was afraid fourteen years ago when he sent me to his brother in Boston. I'm sure of it."

"He had just lost his wife and newborn son. Caroline, the man was overwhelmed with grief."

She was barely listening as Bradford continued to argue in her father's favor. She realized that he was defending her father's behavior. Instead of a rigid, unbending conclusion that her father had acted like a coward, he argued that the opposite was true. He was being both understanding and compassionate.

Why couldn't he be more understanding with her? she wondered. Why couldn't he unbend, just a little, for her? There was a shield around his heart, protecting his vulnerability, Caroline knew, but she didn't know how to remove it.

Bradford had stopped talking and his even, deep breathing told her that he was fast asleep. She tried to move away but his grip tightened around her.

Caroline closed her eyes but didn't go to sleep for a long time. Her mind raced with questions and decisions. She knew that her husband cared for her, more deeply than he realized. Perhaps it was just a matter of time before he admitted his love. And would trust come with that admission?

Caroline honestly didn't know. She had called him her opponent in their battle to understand each other. She remembered telling him that he didn't really know her at all. Bradford had proved the truth of her convictions when he tried to buy her forgiveness with the expensive jewels. Perhaps the women he had known in the past would have settled for that much, but Caroline still demanded more. She wanted the shield torn from his heart. She wanted it all.

The surprise of listening to Bradford argue in favor of her father told her that she too had made a grave mistake. She had never taken the time to learn the reasons behind his cynicism, only railed against the results of his sour disposition where women were concerned. She didn't know her opponent either.

Caroline decided on one last attack against his armor and found herself praying with determination. She might not be able to demolish his defenses, but she would damn well put a few dents in them!

Caroline was up, dressed, and in the middle of packing her things before Bradford woke up. As soon as he saw what she was doing, he became irritated. "This is nonsense," he muttered.

Caroline stopped folding the gown and dropped it on the bed. "I agree." She walked over to the connecting door, where her husband stood, and lifted on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "I don't want to leave," she told him. "And if you will only promise me that you will have complete faith in me, I'll unpack."

"Caroline, I'm not awake enough to spar with you yet. It's my duty to protect you from any threat, both from outside forces and from within. I don't need to make promises when I'll see that you aren't given the opportunity to stray."

"You insult me again with your beliefs, Bradford," Caroline announced. "But I'll forgive you for it. You don't know any better." She turned from him then and resumed packing, tears stinging her eyes.

Bradford was tired of the way she continually tried to manipulate him. He would have demanded a stop if he hadn't had two motives for sending her away. His primary reason was for Caroline's protection. He wanted his wife safe when he put his plan to trap her enemy into action, and Bradford Place, a fortress built during the Middle Ages, would more than fit the bill. The house was all of stone and situated on the top of a barren hill. Anyone approaching could be seen from a good half-mile's distance. He would send two guards with Caroline, and three others were already at the fortress.