Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (9 page)

After a long, uncomfortable minute he had yet to say anything in reply to her revelation.

“Does your decision to help me rest upon my performance in your bed?” she asked.

That drew a response. He lifted a brow, the shock evident in his gaze. “You speak rather plainly.”

“Well, does it? I must know.”

Again, no reply. She watched the muscle in his cheek jump, and his dimples pull taught. He seemed to ponder her words. “Keeping me against my will makes me a slave, and I am no man’s slave. I am a gentleman’s daughter, from a noble family.” She kept her tone even, not wanting him to suspect her fear. “And I must save my brother and our elderly nurse.”

His eyebrows rose with astonishment at her impassioned, yet firm, plea for his assistance.

“I’ve read about men like you,” she continued. “Merchantmen. Traders. You bring European goods to Arabia, take slaves from Africa to your plantations in the Indies, and then the products of those plantations back to Europe.”

“What makes you think I am like those men? And, how do you come to know so much of world affairs?”

“As I said earlier this evening, Your Grace, there is much you do not know about me.”

His deep, soothing voice took a decidedly frigid tone. “Tell me everything. Where do you come from, and who is your family?”

She turned to him, her outward expression unruffled. “I told you all that was important. What should you care of the details? They’ll not change the outcome for me now. The prospects for my future were forever ruined the night of my abduction.”

“I need to know the whole story, so as best to decide how to proceed.”

Instinct told her this man could be a formidable foe should she cross him, and right now she didn’t have the time for a fight, nor did she need an adversary that could keep her from her goal. Tears threatened to rise, but stuck in her throat, suppressed by the fear that any chance she had to save Luchino and Maura would be lost if he refused her request. For her captor would then be wary of leaving her unattended.

“I know not if I can trust you,” she confessed.

“You never will until you give me a chance.”

“My own aunt tried to have me killed. If you cannot trust your own family, then who can you trust?”

He seemed to process what she said, his expression for the most part, unreadable. Lia felt perhaps she hit a little close to home with her words. She went on, and explained, “I used to believe trust was something that should be assumed of an individual, until such time the person in question is proved untrustworthy.” Lifting her glass, she twirled the fine crystal goblet in her hands, staring down at the shards of light reflecting off the cut patterns. “That changed soon after my parents died.”

He stood and walked back into the room. When he returned, he carried the decanter. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” He refilled their glasses, and reclaimed his seat on the bench, this time stretching his long legs before him.

Lia gave him a shortened version of her life up until the fire that took her parents from her. Pacing about the small courtyard, she told him of the liberal inheritance she and her brother received. She never knew she had any paternal relatives. Her father never mentioned his family to her. When she was old enough to ask, Lia’s mother told her it was because her grandfather had disowned her father when they married because she was not his social equal.

Having grown up with parents who loved her and her brother dearly, Lia thought no more of it. Until the day her aunt and uncle had come to Naples after the funeral and informed her that she and her brother, Luchino, were moving to Genoa. Lia had refused, explaining to her relatives her plans to complete her studies and become a scholar like her parents. She stressed that she and Luchino had Maura, and had inherited enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, provided they didn’t squander it.

In the end, all of her efforts failed. At her aunt’s insistence, her uncle forbade her to remain in Naples unmarried and with only their old nurse as chaperon. She and her brother were forced to leave the only home they had ever known, and move in with a family they had never met before.

Once they got to Genoa, Lia’s clothing disappeared. She was given three coarse black gowns, worn through with holes in places. She was in mourning, her aunt said. Not long after, she noticed her own gowns had been altered to fit her much shorter cousin, then new drapes and carpets began to appear in the house. She didn’t have to question where the funds came from for it was obvious her aunt was spending the monthly allowance that belonged to her and Luchino.

Her uncle died five months after their arrival in Genoa, and things quickly got worse. Lia felt that, while he was alive, her uncle acted as somewhat of a buffer between her and her aunt. Perhaps he felt some obligation to protect her because he was a blood relation, it was unclear to her. But, once he died there was no one to dispute, or control her aunt.

“My brother, Luchino, was often kept locked in his room for minor infractions of our aunt’s ridiculous rules,” she said, fighting the tears. “When he was allowed out of the room, he wasn’t allowed to play, which is all a seven year old boy wants.”

She began to cry now, unable to stop herself, but she continued with her story. Lia told him how she was abducted. That the two men had been instructed to kill her, but saw an opportunity for profit instead and sold her into slavery.

She exhaled a weary sigh. “I feigned unconsciousness to discover their plans. My abductors were ordered to return for my brother and Maura in a few months. He just turned eight years old. I wasn’t there for Christmas, or for his birthday, and he probably thinks I’m dead. Maura is old and doesn’t move so easily as she did. Your Grace, I don’t know how much time I have, but I must hurry if I am to save them. If they’re still alive.”

She cried harder now, breaking into sobs and trembling violently as she released all the fears pent up inside her these past weeks. Since awakening in the harem she’d been able to keep it all within because of her plan to escape if the prince refused to help her.

Now, everything had changed. She was bound for a country even farther away, decreasing any chance of rescuing her only remaining family.

Ren understood all too well the pain Lia felt at the betrayal of her aunt, and the fear for her sibling and nurse. Betrayal by a relative was why he was here in Morocco. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. She felt so fragile and small as her body finally gave in to all the pressures she’d been under. He hadn’t decided yet what he’d do, but if he was to do anything at all, time was of the essence.

After several minutes, Lia pulled away, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I will please you every night. Live out my time in service to you, gladly. And I will repay any expenses you incur on my behalf, if you will only rescue my brother and our nurse from my aunt’s home. I will do whatever you ask of me—
anything
—for them. Please? Will you help me?”

“I will think on it,” he replied, as he mentally wondered at the speed with which he could recall his crews and sail to Italy.

Large green eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with tears looked up at him and something constricted in his chest. Wisps of sable-colored hair had fallen loose from her comb, and blew into her face from the gentle breeze in the garden. He brushed it back with his fingers, his palm touching her wet cheek. She rested her face in his hand, closing her eyes.

“I haven’t much time,” she whispered. Backing away, she fell to her knees before him, her hands rubbing her legs nervously as she stared up at him. “What can I say, what can I do, to persuade you to help me? I would give my own life to spare his.” She folded her hands together in a praying fashion, begging him as a fresh wash of tears began to fall freely down her face. “He’s just a baby. My parents loved him so.”

“I haven’t refused you, Lia. I said I would think on it, meaning my current plans must be altered, and arrangements made.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks, and rested his hand on her face. “And I’m sure your parents loved you as much as they did your brother.”

“They did,” she whispered.

Lia took his hand and brought the palm to her lips. The simple gesture sent a raging inferno through Ren’s body. The tip of her tongue traced a line between his fingers, causing his breeches to become uncomfortably tight. He groaned as she took his middle finger between her lips and gently sucked, the tip of her tongue sliding up and down the digit, making his cock harder.

Taking his hand away, he stared into her eyes. Right at that moment he decided. It was the solution to both their problems. “I know a way.” His gaze lowered to her moist, full lower lip, wondering how it would feel on his.

“Anything, Your Grace,” she whispered. Bringing his hand back, she kissed his palm once again, then his wrist, and then the inside of his bare forearm.

“You should hear what my dilemma is first, and understand my proposed solution.”

“Anything within my power is yours.”

He raised her hand, lifting her to stand before him. He gazed into her deep green eyes, and felt a hot tremor course up his arm to his chest. “I need an heir. A legitimately born son. As soon as possible.”

Wide-eyed, she stared at him, obviously shocked by his words. “For that you would need a wife.”

“To save your brother and your nurse, you need me and my ships.”

“Your Grace, surely a man as handsome as yourself, assuming you have a little coin, can find a lady to marry in your own country.”

“I don’t want someone from my own country.” He held her chin in his hand as he stared into her face. “I want you.”

“But we don’t know each other,” she said, then closed her eyes. “I’m Catholic and will not convert.”

“You might have to in order for our son to inherit my title.”

“Why? Why me?”

“I desire you.” She tried to turn away, but he prevented her with the merest increase in pressure. His thumb stroked her lower lip, then two fingers stroked her cheek. “And I think...,” He moved in closer and lowered his lips to within a hairs breadth of hers, and whispered, “you do not...,” He pressed them to hers momentarily to gauge her reaction. She sighed in his arms, and he added, “dislike me.”

Acting on that intense desire to truly kiss her, Ren claimed her mouth finally, and after an awkward moment, she parted for him. She tasted of the wine she’d just drunk, dusky sweet and extremely rare. His tongue traveled the sharply uneven planes of her teeth, and dueled with hers.

He held her to him, his hands roaming her back from the arc of her shoulders to the curve of her well-formed bottom. She wore nothing under the pantalettes, and that knowledge stirred him even more. His hands roved forward, around to her waist and upward, covering her breasts. Full and firm, her nipples were hardened with desire, and he flicked his thumbs over each peak. When she pressed into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, his cock throbbed uncomfortably behind the placard of his breeches. He hadn’t frightened her with his ardency, which was something he worried about because it had been so long for him. But she still had not agreed to his proposal, and he wanted to know.
Had
to know.

“Do you agree to my terms?” He whispered near her ear as he began to kiss a trail down the long column of her neck. She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. For some reason he needed to hear it from her lips. “Say it, Lia. Tell me you agree.” She moaned as his lips reached the sensitive area where her neck met her shoulders.

“Why?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

She sighed as his thumbs raked over her hardened nipples.

“Yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“I will marry you.” Her words came out on a whisper, as her knees buckled under her. She marveled at the sensations as her entire body awakened under his touch. Where did those words come from? Lia couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to marry the man. He’d used her own body against her, to get the response he’d wanted. Even now, his hands moved on her body bringing her to life, as if until this moment she had merely existed. His firm lips worked magic on hers, and she arched into him giving him more, offering her body to him.

Starved for breath, she tried to pull away, but one hand curved about her neck, bringing her even closer. She didn’t think she could get any nearer to him than she already was. His fingers raked through the hair of her nape, and traveled upward, pulling the comb free. Then his nimble fingers unclasped the choker, and dropped it onto the dressing table. Turning away from her, he took her hand and led them to one of the two intricately-carved wooden wing chairs in the center of the room.

He lowered himself into it, and said, “Disrobe for me, Lia.”

She stood between his spread knees, her thighs touching his, and stared at him, trying to decide if that was a request or a command. If she did not comply, what would he do? Her pulse began to race, and the room started to feel warmer as she contemplated her next move.

“I asked you to disrobe, Lia.” In the dimly lit room, she trembled at his request. She wasn’t afraid, and it wasn’t particularly cool out, so she didn’t understand her body’s reaction to his words.

She began to move, slowly at first, taking the hem of the tunic in her hands and lifting it upward. Disrobing would be fast, as she wore nothing beneath the outfit. She removed her tunic, exposing her breasts to his gaze. She watched his expression and thought she saw the corner of his lips curve, revealing a dimple.