His voice, so tender and caring, pulled at Caroline. She trembled and clasped her hands together in an effort to stop. She wouldn't allow the comfort Milford offered, knowing instinctively that any show of kindness would completely destroy her composure.

"I would like to go home now." She moved back another space when Milford tried to touch her again.

The agony in her tone shamed him. She held herself erect with dignity and her expression was controlled, but the pain still radiated in her tone.

"Bradford will be back in a minute," Milford said. "Caroline, he has just told you that he knows you're innocent. He's only angry with St. James."

Caroline shook her head, stopping Milford's explanation. "Not at first," she contradicted. "He believed the worst…"

"When he calms down-"

"I don't want to go home with Bradford." Caroline's statement interrupted Milford's earnest reply.

"That's too damn bad." The harsh remark came from the doorway, where the Duke of Bradford stood.

Caroline refused to look at him. She felt her cape being thrown over her shoulders and then she was hauled up against Bradford's side.

They didn't speak a single word to each other all the way home. Caroline used the time to calm her anger. She could feel Bradford's glare and still refused to look at him.

Her heart was shattered and she had no one to blame but herself. She was, she decided, a fool. He couldn't hurt her like this if she hadn't fallen in love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and was now feeling nearly destroyed because of it. His unreasonable jealousy and his distrust were both unfounded and so illogical that Caroline didn't know how to combat either, how to protect herself. She remembered how he had turned on her when Claymere had stolen the ill-wanted kisses the night of her father's dinner party. His wrath had been directed at her as much as at Claymere. Tonight she had witnessed that same look for the briefest of seconds. The fury had been directed toward her.

By the time they had arrived back at Bradford's townhouse, all Caroline wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom and cry. She felt like a wounded animal seeking a safe sanctuary.

Bradford watched Caroline start up the steps to the bedrooms and demanded that she follow him into the library to discuss what had happened.

Caroline just kept on going, completely ignoring her husband's order. She made it to her bedroom door before Bradford jerked her around to face him. "Didn't you hear me? Into the library!"

"No." Caroline turned, walked inside, and then shut the door in her astonished husband's face.

The door flew open and bounced against the wall. Bradford stormed inside and followed Caroline to the bed. His wife sat on the edge, her hands gripped together in her lap.

He stood before her, legs braced apart, hands on hips. Caroline looked up at his face, saw his angry expression, and let her own fury explode. "After tonight, I'll probably never speak to you again."

The vehemence in her voice infuriated him. "You'll explain why you were in the library with St. James if I have to beat it out of you."

"You wouldn't lay a hand on me." Caroline's quiet statement of her belief surprised Bradford, knocking some of the wind out of him.

"And how do you know that?" he demanded, though his voice had lowered in volume.

"You don't have to use your fists when your looks and thoughts can do so much more damage. And you would never hit a woman; it isn't in your nature."

Bradford admitted to himself that she was right. Empty threats wouldn't accomplish his goal. He decided to use calm reasoning. "Tell me what happened."

"If you'll answer my question, then I'll tell you everything," Caroline countered. "I already know the truth but 1 want to hear you admit it." She stood up and faced her husband. "When you first saw me with St. James, you believed that I had betrayed you, didn't you?"

"I know you had no part in-"

"That isn't what I asked," Caroline stated. "Answer me now. The truth, Bradford!"

He frowned and then shrugged. "It was a natural conclusion and yes, for just a second or two, I did believe that you had betrayed me. You said earlier in the evening that you wanted to meet someone. I realized that I had overreacted, however, and know that you're innocent of any deception."

Caroline's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "I was going to have a private talk with Charity," she returned. "She was the one I was meeting. Now I'll tell you what happened. I went looking for you. Paul suggested that you might be in the library and Terrence St. James followed me. Rachel is going to pay him for placing me in a compromising position. You see, everyone knows how jealous you are, everyone but your foolish wife! And St. James needed money. I actually boasted to him that you would believe me and not what you saw. I was mistaken." The last was whispered with a sob.

"Don't turn this around," Bradford snapped. "You specifically promised to stay by my side tonight. The first time I turn my back, you end up-"

"I was trying to find you," Caroline argued. "I've made a mistake."

"You're right about that," Bradford returned.

"My mistake was marrying you. My mistake was trusting you with my heart. My error was falling in love with you. But love and hate are twin emotions and right this minute I think I almost hate you. And it's all your own fault," Caroline ranted. "You're slowly strangling all the love right out of me."

She turned her back, on him then and began to get undressed, trying to dismiss his very presence in her mind.

When she had stripped down to her chemise, she tried to move around Bradford to go into his bedroom to get her robe, but he blocked her exit.

"Why are you frowning, Bradford? You should be gloating now," Caroline commented in a frosty voice. "Since the day we met you've been waiting for me to deceive you. You're so sure I'm like all the other women of your past, and I've just proven that you're right. I'm no better than a courtesan, am I?"

"What are you talking about?" Bradford demanded.

"You think it's your duty to protect me from myself, don't you? We poor females are so weak, and of course none of us have any morals to speak of. Why, we can't help jumping into bed with the first available man, can we? Tell me this, Bradford. How was I ever able to stay a virgin until our marriage?"

"Damn it, you're not making sense." He hadn't meant to yell, but she was getting too close to the truth for comfort's sake.

"England is a horrid place," Caroline whispered. "In all the years I lived in Boston, only once was I involved with such scoundrels! They were three drunk men and I was on the wrong side of town. But here, no matter where I turn, I'm assaulted, and threatened… and Dear God, it isn't just by strangers. My own husband assaults me with his horrible thoughts. I want to go home. I want to go back to Boston."

Caroline started to cry.

"Caroline, I've never hidden the fact that I have a quick temper."

"It doesn't do any good to yell at a deaf person or demand that a blind man see. Tonight I've realized you have your beliefs so firmly entrenched that nothing is going to change you. You aren't ever going to trust me with your heart. You aren't capable of it," Caroline said. "I should never have married you," she repeated.

"You weren't given a choice," Bradford remarked. He could feel himself getting angry again over her harsh remarks. That she dared to talk to him in such a way infuriated him.

He watched as Caroline got into bed and pulled the covers over her. She turned on her side, away from him.

"Kindly remove yourself from my bedroom," Caroline stated. She trembled, from cold and despair, and knew that it was just a matter of time before she crumbled and began to sob in earnest. All she wanted was to be left alone to her misery. Only after she had finished with the tears could she decide rationally what was to be done.

"You've got that backward, wife. God, but you're always getting everything backward," Bradford muttered. "You've no reason to be angry with me. I'm the one who found you in the library with that bastard. After you gave me your word that you wouldn't go off by yourself," Bradford continued. "You're too damn trusting, Caroline. And that's why you're always getting into situations you can't handle."

"I don't have anything backward," Caroline answered. She rolled over and glared at Bradford's back. "I'm finally getting it right. You're the one who explained that we have separate bedrooms. And this is my room, so get out. I don't want you sleeping next to me," Caroline railed. Hot tears burned her eyes as she added in a defiant voice, "I won't allow it."

"Allow? You won't allow?" His roar silenced Caroline. He turned, giving her the full impact of his fury, but Caroline was heedless to it now. "No one has ever dared to speak to me in such a manner! No one! Understand me, Caroline, I'm the one who allows in this marriage. Not you."

Bradford walked over to the bed, removing his shirt as he went. Caroline rolled onto her stomach. She felt the covers being jerked away, heard the bed creak from Bradford's weight when he stretched out next to her. Then her chemise was being tugged down over her shoulders and then over her waist and thighs and finally over her legs. She didn't move and only the slight tensing of the muscles beneath the smooth skin of her backside showed any reaction.

She waited, breath held in her lungs until she thought they would explode, for the attack that never came. Instead, she felt Bradford's lips brush against the nape of her neck. "I don't want you to touch me," Caroline whispered against the pillow.

"It doesn't work that way, wife. What you want isn't significant." Bradford's voice was harsh, unbending.

Caroline turned with such force that Bradford was jarred onto his side. Her face was just inches from his. They stared at each other a long silent moment, letting the anger each was feeling flow between them unchecked. Caroline forced herself to speak in a quiet voice. "Perhaps to the Duke of Bradford, my wishes aren't significant, but in this marriage bed, your power and your money mean nothing. In this bed, you are my husband. The public may be subservient to the Duke of Bradford but I'll never be subservient to my husband. Never! Learn to separate the title from the man, for I vow it's the only way this marriage stands a chance."

His expression showed his confusion, and Caroline felt like screaming to make him understand. "Leave the jealousy and the anger outside the door, along with your arrogance. Come to me as Jered Marcus Benton."

She whispered the last of her wish and rolled back onto her stomach, dismissing him. She knew he still didn't understand and her heart ached with regret.

He thought she asked the impossible. She spoke to him in riddles and he didn't have the patience to figure them out. He was the Duke of Bradford! And it wasn't possible to separate the title from the man. Damn! Didn't she understand that his title was his mantle? Was she trying to strip him of his value, his worth?

A nagging uncertainty pulled at him. Or did she try to strip him of his defenses? And if she succeeded, then what? Would there be anything left?

She demanded too much from him. And she didn't understand her own mind. She denied the power and the wealth and the position, yet those were the very reasons she had married him. Or were they? Could she really love Jered Marcus Benton, the man?

Bradford shook his head and tried to dismiss the turmoil she caused. Lord, she made his head spin with the questions she raised. For the first time since his father and his brother's deaths, he felt vulnerable. He railed against the feeling.

She confused him and he wasn't ready to deal with the beliefs she challenged, the changes she demanded. He knew he only wanted her, now, this minute. But he wanted her willing… and loving… and with equal passion.

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, a futile effort to stop the tears. She felt Bradford shift next to her as his heavy thigh settled against the backs of her legs. His hand began to caress the length of her back. It was such a gentle touch that she found herself confused all over again. His breath was warm against her spine, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. His fingers slowly marked an erotic line from the base of her neck to the top of her derriere, hesitated for the briefest of heartbeats, and then settled between her thighs to stroke the building heat in her.