The Three Colonels by Jack Caldwell Page A

talents. The greatest of musicians can make an inferior instrument sound only so well and no more. He knew he was not the great lover of the world; he had not that much practice. To his increasing delight, Buford was coming to the realization that he had been far more fortunate in his choice of wife than he could imagine. There was something there, something hidden, that he had been able to unlock and set free. There was nowhere on earth he would rather be than next to Caroline. He could not help himself; he had to experience it again.
    He leaned over and began to caress her face lightly. “Caro… my beautiful Caro.”
    Lovely green eyes opened and looked at him. “Hmm…” She smiled. He began to kiss her lightly on the forehead and then the eyelids. “Is it morning already?”
    â€œNo, my dear.” Buford moved down to her neck.
    â€œOh, John,” moaned Caroline.
    â€œMy name, Caro—say my name. The one I taught you for moments like this.” His lips traveled further south.
    â€œJohnny!” she purred.
    Sometime later, as his labors finally exhausted him enough to join his sleeping wife, Buford’s thoughts were those of caution.
    I must take care. It would not do to commit that most fatal of sins against the ton —falling in love with my own wife.

Chapter 6
    The morning sun was full upon Caroline’s face as she awoke. At first, she was confused by the unfamiliar room until she remembered she was a married woman. She stretched like a cat, feeling aches from places before unknown to her, and recalled the events of the evening.
    I am Lady Buford… Caro… Oh Lord, what a night! I had nothing to fear. John was so kind, but how wantonly I acted!
    Caroline began to rise from the bed when she noticed she was not alone. Her husband was still in bed with her—not sleeping, but sitting up watching her with an amused eye—and obviously without a stitch of clothing on. That realization brought to Caroline’s attention that she was as naked as he was. She scrambled back under the covers, too embarrassed to speak.
    â€œGood morning, Lady Buford,” Sir John greeted her.
    â€œGood morning, sir,” Caroline answered, too mortified to notice that her husband had used her new title. “May I ask what you are doing here?”
    Sir John grinned. Caroline was reacting in just the manner he had foreseen. “I beg your pardon. I thought you were my wife.”
    Caroline colored. “Of course, I am your wife, but why are you still here? Do you not have your own bed?”
    â€œYes, and I am in it.”
    Caroline frowned. “Sir, it is my understanding that these are my rooms. At least that was what I was led to believe yesterday.”
    â€œAh, I see. I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, my dear. How unforgivable of me! I forgot to tell you something. I suppose I was preoccupied.” Caroline blushed deeper. “Well, let there be a right understanding between us, madam. These are indeed your rooms. However, there shall be no talk of your bed and my bed—only our bed, Caro.” Sir John’s face drew very close.
    â€œOh! Do you mean to share my bed every night? How extraordinary! But the servants, sir! What shall they make of this?”
    â€œThe servants?” Sir John laughed. “Why, they shall think no harm of it. Only that the mistress is so enamored of the master’s person that she cannot bear to be separated from him.”
    Caroline could not decide whether she was distressed by this observation or not. She began to rise from the bed.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Caroline?”
    She gave him a look. “Perhaps you can sleep the day away, but I have duties to attend—your breakfast, for example.”
    â€œMadam, please.” Sir John placed his hand upon hers. “Your duties can wait for tomorrow. It is my particular wish that you enjoy your first day as Lady Buford.” She paused