Caversham’s Bride

Chapter Seven-2

Hours later, he nuzzled her neck and whispered, “I need you again.” He wanted her with an intensity that hurt. His c**k throbbed almost as painfully as it did the night before.

He moved between her legs, and watched a sleepy smile cross her face. God she was beautiful, and his need for her didn’t scare her. He pushed aside the hair from her face and began to kiss her. Starting with her lips—the same lips that drove him wild just hours earlier. She tasted of sleep and sweet wine, and he lingered on them for long, slow minutes before moving down the curve of her jaw to her satiny-smooth neck.

Ren fondled her breasts, lightly squeezing each n****e. The dusky tips stiffened in response, and he took one into his mouth and began to suckle her. His tongue played over the one tip while his thumb and forefinger gently prepared the other. He moved over her to suckle that hardened peak, allowing his hands to rove lower, over her flat abdomen and into the smooth lips covering her center. He probed, hunting for and finding her core. Her moans spurred him on, and his body wanted hers more than he’d ever wanted a woman before, in ways he never wanted a woman before. It felt almost combustible this connection he had with her.

His mouth broke free from her breast and as one hand continued fondling her wetness, he reached for the glass of wine he’d left on the bedside table. He took a sip, then poured a few drops between her breasts and watched them roll down to her belly where he licked them off. “You taste good.” He met her gaze and sat back on his heels, contemplating which part he wanted to taste next. His gaze slid down to her smooth mound, and back to her smoky emerald eyes. Seeing no resistance, he smiled before trailing a finger down from her navel, where it slid between her moist lips. She was wet and ready for him again, and the knowledge made him bolder. Ren tilted the glass, pouring a tiny bit more over her swollen core, and licked her until all traces were gone. Her moans and whispered encouragements told him she enjoyed his efforts. When he’d run out of wine, he set the goblet on the floor, and came back to her to continue loving her with his tongue.

Ren placed a finger, then two inside her slick passage, and felt her tightness pull them in. He moved his fingers in her while his tongue worked on her core. Before long she writhed beneath him, begging him to fill her. He lay on the bed next to her and pulled her over onto him. She spread herself for his entry. Then she slowly lowered her body onto him.

“You’re so sweet, my Lia.”

Once she was completely impaled, he began to move, rocking her with his rhythm. His fingers continued to stroke her nub as he loved her slowly.

In a matter of minutes she picked up the pace, eager for release. He urged her down and rolled her over. Moving slowly, in and out, he brought them both to the edge of ecstasy. Her sheath rhythmically clenched tight around him, pulling him in deeper, and he gave her what she wanted. Fulfillment.

She cried out his name and Ren climaxed again with Lia still trembling in his arms. After he recovered his senses, he rolled off her, drawing her close. This time he cuddled her in the crook of his arm as they both fell asleep.

The last thought he had before he slept again was where, and how quickly, they could marry.

Five days later, right at sunrise, Lia wrapped Ren’s coat tighter about her and stepped up to the wheel deck to meet him. He’d left the room just minutes before she climbed out of the bed, unable to sleep. She dressed, put his coat on, and went above, after stopping in the galley to get two mugs of the horrible brew his cook called coffee.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she offered, her mood growing more tense the closer they got to Genoa.

He nodded, “Good morning to you, too.”

Lia handed Ren a mug and stood next to him as he maneuvered his lead ship, Warlock near a land mass, with Sorceress and Sea Witch close behind. The faint winds were growing colder the closer to Italy they got. Looking up, she saw the sails luffing as they struggled to catch the breeze.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“We have been running parallel to Sardinia all night.” He pointed ahead and to the east. “We’re almost to Corsica.”

The sun hung low over the island. Ren watched her as stray wisps escaped the braid and blew about her face as she squinted toward their destination.

“How soon will we be in Genoa?”

“If the wind doesn’t pick up, two more days. A day and a half if we get lucky.”

Lia turned her face heavenward and closed her eyes. She said a prayer for good weather, more wind, and that they were not too late. She exhaled, relaxing somewhat, and turned back to Ren. “We must come up with a plan to take them from my aunt’s home.”

Their gazes met, his dark, silver eyes warming her inside. “We can do that when we get to Genoa and I send men out to do some reconnaissance. But before I do that, I’ll need some information.”

“Such as?”

“I need to know where I am going and who is likely to be there.” Ren nodded at the bearded man standing nearby, and handed the wheel to him. He led Lia down to the bow railing. “What reception will I receive were I to simply knock on the door and demand their release?”

“We will not be welcome.” Lia pushed the hair from her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “I fear she may try to keep Luchino from me.”

“Why? Why would the woman wish to have two more mouths to feed? If money is so tight that she robs you of your inheritance, she should be relieved to have them gone.”

Lia stared at Ren, and knew now was the time to tell him the rest of the story. “She did not get the inheritance, for that sits in a trust. My brother and I each receive our portion at the age of twenty-one. Until then we receive a monthly allowance. The guardian of the trust is a man hired by my grandfather before his death, and my uncle was unable to remove him from the trust after he moved us to his home.”

He appeared confused, as his silver eyes bore into hers. “Have I done, or said something upsetting, Your Grace?”

“Who was your uncle?” His voice was tense as he clipped the words.

“My father’s brother was the Conte di Loretto. The man was a poor gambler who lost his half of the family fortune. His wife and children lived beyond their means for many years. Upon my uncle’s death, my cousin Ugo, who is as mean as his mother, inherited the title. And right now that makes my brother, Luchino, the heir to that fortune-less title. Except Luchino and I have a generous inheritance waiting for us.” Lia felt a fearful tremor rise within her. “With my brother and I out of the way, my Zia inherits it all.”

Lia had a difficult time trying to read his expression. He seemed pensive, yet his tightly-drawn lips indicated a measure of anger, and she couldn’t understand why. She held onto the rail as a wave rocked the ship. Turning to stare into the horizon, she continued. “My father was a second son who rejected his family as they rejected him when he married my mother. Some time after their marriage, my grandfather tried to make amends to my father, perhaps after realizing what a sad, drunken gambler my uncle was. He left my father an inheritance which Papa wanted no part of, so it sat in a bank in Genoa for many years. Maura said she was certain mama never knew of it.”

Lia sighed, wishing she could relive those events again and struggle harder against leaving Naples. “After my parents died, we suddenly had these relatives we didn’t know forcing us to leave our comfortable home and simple life, to move in with them. My mind still reels at the thought of how quickly they found us.

“My aunt wants the money, I know this. She would inherit it if we were gone. She arranged to have me killed, and it is only by the grace of God that I am here. I fear she will do the same to Luchino and Maura.”

Lia looked up at Ren. His lips were drawn tight, and his eyes darkened to near black as he stared down at her.

“I will need the name of the guardian and the bank when we get to Genoa.”

Lia nodded. She thought back to the day her aunt walked into their modest cottage, with her silk kerchief covering her nose and mouth, as though their home reeked. Lia had hated her from the moment their eyes met. “Please, I beg of you, be careful. She is a deceitful, uncaring and cruel woman. Someone with no regard for human life, not even her own blood relations.” In truth, the mere thought of the woman repulsed her. She wished she’d never set eyes on her all those months ago. How different her life would have been.

Lia chattered on nervously. “My father never used his familial ties to his advantage. He rejected the inheritance and his family. I never knew it existed. My parents were simple people. Academics. Scholars. From them, I learned to love books. Father taught me maths, science and politics. Father said I have the gift of an ear for languages, and I speak and read six fluently. I inherited my mother’s love of literature and poetry.”

She wondered if she should reveal her weaknesses to him, and decided it could hurt nothing, as he already seemed upset by her situation. “And yet, I am an embarrassment to my culture. I cannot draw or paint. I sing horribly, and play not one musical instrument.”

Lia turned to look into Ren’s eyes. His expression softened some, but only slightly. She rambled on nervously. “You will like my brother. He is intelligent and polite. I will keep him in line, and he will never be a bother. I promise.”

Ren led her by the elbow down to his cabin. “We will have your brother in a few days.” He sounded exasperated as he lifted a rolled chart from a container next to the bookcase. “Now, I have work to do, and arrangements to make once we reach Genoa if we are to pull this off.” He unrolled a chart on the table and placed a book on each corner, and began to work in silence.

Lia felt as though she’d been dismissed. She knelt on the bench and faced out the window. To her right was the coast of Sardinia, behind her the open waters of the Mediterranean. They had been getting along so well, she’d begun to think she was truly blessed to have crossed paths with him in Tangier’s market, and fortunate that he believed her. Now she wondered what she’d done to deserve his ire.

Never being one to let a question go unasked she said, “What have I done to upset you?”

From behind her she heard the shuffling of the pages as he went from one chart to the next. She went to the table and stood before him. He turned his cool, silver gaze up to her, his expression unreadable.

A minute later, he replied, “I told you last week I wanted your entire story. Yet just now you inform me that you come from noble lineage, and not a minor one at that, and that you are in possession of some wealth. This leads me to wonder what else you’ve neglected to tell me.”

She shifted, uncomfortable at his accusations. “I did tell you, you must not have understood. And, if you think I intentionally misled you in any way, I apologize. It was not my intent. I have always told you the truth.”

“Only the amount of truth you think necessary to best serve your need.”

“That is not so! I will not stand here and allow you to accuse me of lying to you—whether by omission or directly.” Lia reached for the bolt on the cabin door, intending to leave for much needed distance when a chill in his voice froze her in place.

“My men are sailors, not gentleman. You are not to leave this cabin without me.”

“Am I now a prisoner?”

“No. You are my possession.” The Englishman gathered the charts and his instruments, and stalked from the cabin. Lia wondered at his change in attitude toward her. For the past week, she’d been living with the illusion that he was a man of great compassion and noble character.

Now, she was discovering the man was moody, temperamental, and had a possessive side to him as well.