Julie Garwood - Rebellious Desire

She sensed the change in him, knew the anger was gone, and responded to the tender seduction. She thought to struggle, telling herself that she should hate the sensual pleasure he forced on her, and then admitted that he wasn't forcing her to respond at all.

His mouth trailed hot kisses down her back while his fingers worked their magic, making her moist and hot with desire. She gripped the sheets when he increased the pressure building inside her, felt her muscles contract against him and was powerless to stop the tremors.

His fingers entered and retreated again and again until she thought she would surely die from the sweet agony. She arched against him, trying to find release, moaned his name in a husky voice that demanded and pleaded.

Bradford moved then and knelt between her legs. "Tell me how much you want this," he demanded. His voice was harsh, shaking with his own need. He wanted to hear her say that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"I want you, Jered," Caroline whispered. "Please, now."

"And I want you, Caroline," he growled. His hands held her by her hips and he thrust into her with one powerful motion.

His voice called out to her, beckoned her through the haze of consuming pleasure, soft, gentle words of one lover to another, begging her to take what he offered her. He waited for her complete surrender and when she called his name again, he followed her into the heat of the sun, finding his own scorching release.

He collapsed against his wife with a low growl of satisfaction and when the tremors had finished, he rolled to his side, holding her against him. His head rested on top of hers and his hand gently stroked her cheek. He felt her tears on his fingertips and whispered, "Don't cry, baby. Don't cry," again and again, until Caroline finally gained control and allowed the comfort he offered.

"You can always make me want you," Caroline whispered. Her voice sounded as if she was confessing a grave sin.

Bradford didn't immediately answer. He covered them with the blankets and pulled her back against him, cradling her with such tenderness that Caroline started crying again.

"Caroline, do you want to hear me say that I'm sorry? I would be lying," he admitted with a sigh. "I didn't take you by force just now. You wanted me as much as I wanted you."

She was shaking her head before he had completed his last remark. "You didn't want me?" he asked, amazed that she would lie to him. She was always truthful, sometimes bluntly so, and he had come to depend upon her honesty.

"Yes, I wanted you," Caroline answered. "But I want to hear you say you're sorry because you thought I had acted shamefully tonight at the party," she explained. Her voice was muffled by the pillow, and Bradford was forced to lean up on his elbow to hear her clearly.

He placed a kiss on her temple and then said, "You're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?" Caroline was astonished by his casual remark. "You nearly killed a man tonight and your expression was horrid when you looked at me! You wanted to believe that I was guilty, didn't you?"

"For God's sake, you're being dramatic," Bradford argued. He sounded exasperated and Caroline bristled in reaction. He didn't have the faintest clue of how much he had hurt her. "I soon understood," Bradford argued.

"Not soon enough," Caroline snapped. She struggled to sit up and turned to look at him. "Until you have complete faith in me, this marriage is doomed. I want blind trust and I'm not going to settle for less. I want unconditional faith, so much so that if you found me in bed with two men, you would pause to ask for an explanation before condemning."

"You aren't married to a fool, Caroline," Bradford muttered.

"I'm not so sure," Caroline answered. She saw the glint of anger in her husband's eyes but continued. "A fool doesn't take the time to understand his opponent. You've made rash judgments about my character and have attacked that which I most value."

"And what would that be?" Bradford demanded. His voice was soft and terribly controlled.

"My honor."

"Is our marriage a battlefield in your eyes?" Bradford scoffed. "We're husband and wife, Caroline, not opponents in a war."

"I don't see the difference right this minute," Caroline stated. "Our marriage might as well be a battlefield, until you concede that I'm-"

"I'll concede nothing," Bradford snapped out. The conversation was getting completely beyond him. Something she had said earlier pulled at his memory and he was trying to recall what it was. Whatever it was would come to him soon enough, he decided with a yawn. For now all he wanted to do was hold his wife and fall asleep. With that thought in mind, he sought to end her argument. "You're the one who'll concede to my strength, my lead. Do you dare suggest it should be the other way around?"

"You're deliberately being obtuse," Caroline answered. "You know exactly what I'm asking of you. You'll either trust me or-"

"Perhaps in time, when you've proven yourself to me," Bradford replied. He yawned again, dismissing the subject in his mind, and tried to pull Caroline back into his arms.

Caroline jerked away and moved to stand before the bed. She grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around her, shaking with anger. "I'm through proving myself to you. If you had your way I'd be trembling with fear every time a man opened his mouth to speak to me, afraid that you would jump to your nasty conclusions again. When you realize that I'm not a superficial female intent on material gains or a cunning whore out to conquer the male population of London, then maybe our future will be peaceful. Until then, you can damn well sleep by yourself. Let your suspicions keep you warm."

She walked out of the room. There was satisfaction in slamming the door shut behind her but it was short-lived, and by the time she had climbed into Bradford's bed, she was trembling with anger again. She fully expected him to drag her back to his side and was surprised when he didn't.

He opened the door to the bedroom and stood, towering over her, shaking his head. "So be it," he announced in a voice that chilled her. "This is my bedroom. You have my permission to sleep in your own room, wife. When you realize how foolishly you're behaving, I'll be willing to listen to your apology."

Caroline didn't answer him. She removed herself from his bed and walked back into her own bedroom. She settled herself in her bed, shivering with cold, and cried herself to sleep.

Her last thought was that Bradford was the most stubborn man alive.

Bradford could hear his wife crying. He started to get out of bed to go to her and then stopped himself. She had brought this on and she would have to be the one to come to him.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind. And just when he was about to drift off to sleep, he remembered what it was that had been bothering him, badgering the back of his mind. She had called him by his given name. When they were making love, she had called him Jered. He frowned, wondering why it was so significant.

Caroline wasn't sure just how she got through the next two days. Charity's wedding was almost too painful to bear. Her cousin was so happy, deliriously in love, and Caroline experienced real pangs of jealousy. She hid her feelings and played the docile wife whenever she was forced to stand beside her husband.

She alternated between fits of acute homesickness for Boston and her relatives there, and bouts of melancholy whenever she thought about her situation with Bradford. Caroline felt trapped by her love for him and wished, more than once, that she could stop the pain that came with loving such a rake.

The wedding ceremony was quite lovely and Caroline wept throughout the exchange of vows, much to her husband's frowns of displeasure. He stuffed a handkerchief into her hands with a loud sigh of irritation that she was certain everyone in the church heard.

While Caroline thought she concealed her misery over having Bradford for a husband, she was irritated that he didn't so much as try to hide his disgust with her. He scowled like an unhappy schoolboy. Oh, he was pleasant enough at the reception that followed the ceremony, even laughed a time or two, but he was only pleasant to everyone but her. He completely ignored her presence most of the time, except when it was necessary for him to dictate an order.

Rachel and her mother attended both the wedding and the reception. Caroline was surprised by their appearance and waited until she and Bradford, with Milford sharing their carriage, made their way back to the townhouse before she remarked on it.

"I can't understand why Rachel attended the wedding," Caroline began. "She made no secret of the fact that she hates me, and she knew I would be there."

"They were both invited," Milford pointed out. "Mother and daughter."

"But she said such terrible things to me," Caroline argued, shaking her head.

"Yes, but only you, Bradford, Nigel, and I know that," Milford returned. "Her mother still has her heart set on nabbing your father."

"I tried to get her aside to talk to her," Caroline admitted. "But she was just like a mouse. Every time I got near, she scurried into another corner to get away from me."

Milford grinned. "She looks like a mouse too."

Bradford wasn't amused. "I don't want you near that woman," he stated in a harsh voice.

"I only wanted to find out why she dislikes me so. She said that everything was my fault. I think I have a right to know what I did to cause such hate, Bradford. She might have killed me when she pushed me down those stairs at Claymere's house."

"What makes you think that she's the one?" Milford was looking at Bradford when he asked the question, and his friend's curt shake of his head told him to discontinue the topic. Milford raised an eyebrow in confusion and then changed the subject. "Will you miss Charity when she departs for the Colonies?" It was a ridiculous question but it was all he could think of to distract Caroline.

"What? Oh, well, of course I'll miss her," Caroline returned, showing her astonishment over his question. "I've been thinking that I would like to visit my family." She glanced over at Bradford to see how he was taking her announcement but he was staring out the window, ignoring her again. "Perhaps in the spring I could go for a short while," she added.

"You aren't going anywhere," Bradford interjected. His voice didn't suggest she argue, and Caroline was too fatigued by the long day to fight with him now.

Milford searched his mind for another, safer topic. The tension inside the carriage was almost visible, making him extremely uncomfortable. "How's your uncle?" he blurted out. "I understand he's feeling a little under the weather."

"Only a cold," Caroline answered. "Bradford and I visited with him yesterday and he has a bright red nose and teary eyes, but the physician says he'll be as fit as ever in just a few days. He was very upset over having to miss Charity's wedding."

They reached the townhouse then and Caroline immediately went upstairs. Bradford and Milford retreated to the library to talk.

Caroline paced the confines of her bedroom for a good hour before she took to her bed. She hated the mattress, beating down the lumps with her fists to vent some of her frustration. She was miserable over the growing abyss between her husband and herself and was beginning to think it was a problem that couldn't be solved.

The door to Bradford's bedroom was open and Caroline stood at the entrance and stared at the big, inviting bed. Was she wrong to demand his love? Was she the stubborn one? Bradford had called her unrealistic. Perhaps he was right, Caroline considered. Perhaps she asked too much from him. "I'll not take half measure," she whispered. In her heart she knew that Bradford was wrong in his thinking. She couldn't allow her longing to be in his arms to sway her resolve.

Caroline prayed for the strength to continue her resolve, shut the door that linked her to her husband, and slowly walked back to her cold, empty bed.

The following morning Bradford stated that it was time to return to Bradford Hills. Caroline didn't argue over it, maintaining a distant attitude that reflected her husband's mood.

Bradford was growing weary of the hostile atmosphere. He had come to appreciate his wife's dry sense of humor and enjoyed their sparring matches. She was an intelligent woman who understood the political happenings in both the Colonies and England, and he missed their heated debates on the differences between the two nations.