Caversham’s Bride

Chapter Eight-1

Chapter Eight

Lia spent the rest of the day alone in Ren’s cabin because rain kept her from remaining above deck. The captain’s cabin aboard Warlock was in the stern of the ship, just under the wheel deck. A row of windows, all opened wide, let in a slight breeze—just enough to ensure the room never got stuffy. The bed in the corner was easily as large as the one she had in the harem, though not nearly as soft. Behind a partition was a cabinet built into the wall that, when folded, hid a chamber pot. A wash stand next to that held a pitcher and basin, and a small folded linen towel. A rectangular dining table, which also doubled as Ren’s desk made use of the bench seating beneath the row of windows. The spacious room held nearly every comfort of home. His quarters even boasted a small library along one short wall, with which Lia quickly familiarized herself.

For dinner, Ren sent a boy down with a tray for her. The lamb stew with large chunks of vegetables was quite good. Ren obviously had an English cook, as the man went heavy with cream gravy. After eating as much as she could, she set the tray on the table, and readied herself for bed as the cabin grew dark.

She climbed on top of the mattress and moved as close to the wall as possible, leaving him more than half the bed. His attitude earlier both angered and puzzled her. The man had called her a liar. For that, she was not going to let him touch her tonight. Of course, she would only be denying herself pleasure by punishing him, but he had to learn she was not an object to possess, but a woman with honor, emotions and pride.

Lia replayed their last encounter over and over in her mind. She’d never given him cause to distrust her. Lia realized she had to convince him that she meant to live up to her agreement with him. But after this morning’s confusing behavior, and her subsequent imprisonment, that would have to wait until tomorrow.

The cabin door opened and Ren entered carrying a lantern, casting an eerie glow about the room. He hung it from the beam over his desk, and lowered the flame. Lia quickly closed her eyes. His footsteps told her he stood by the bed. The mattress sank under his weight when he sat on the edge. Each boot dropped to the floor with a deep thud, and he relieved himself of his clothing. She steadied her breathing as though asleep. He lifted the covers and slid between the sheets leaving them to cover only the lower portion of his body.

He didn’t reach out for her. Never touched her. Before long she heard his breathing slow, and knew he slept. Turning to her other side, she faced him and relaxed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest in the moonlight.

The next morning dawned clear, breezy and a little warmer. Last night she had slept soundly again. Another night without the terrible dream. Ren had dressed and left the cabin without disturbing her. A breakfast tray had been left for her on the table. She ate the tasteless fare, glad to have something in her belly.

Foregoing the coat, because of the warmer temperature, Lia stepped onto the deck, intending to stretch her legs by walking in the fresh sea air. The height of the sun in the sky told her the hour was now late. She spotted Ren standing at the helm, the large wheel under his hands. He’d not seen her yet, so she wasn’t sure what his mood was this day. She hoped the night had soothed his upset. It had for her.

He’d left the room without reaching for her, and Lia felt she’d made her point. She had to show him she intended to live up to her end of their agreement, and now felt it necessary to reach out to him. She warmed at the thought. Reaching out to the Englishman always ended up with her sated and exhausted.

She smiled as she took the steps onto the upper deck softly and approached him from behind. His entire body stiffened, as though he knew she stood there.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said cheerfully.

He turned toward her and his cold, hard stare raked over her body. He said nothing to her, but called to the man named Angus. When the other man appeared, Ren turned the wheel over to him and covered her with his jacket that hung on a nearby peg. He took Lia by the arm, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh above her elbow. He led her down the steps and back to the cabin, his hold unyielding until he pushed her through the door.

“What did I do? Why are you…?” She didn’t have time to finish as he stood mere inches in front of her, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body.

“Didn’t I tell you yesterday not to come above deck unless I accompanied you?”

“Yes, but…”

“Do not interrupt me,” he warned. “Look at your manner of dress. What you have on was fine in a Moroccan harem. My men aren’t used to seeing a lady clothed as you are. I can almost see through that kaftan, and I know you wear nothing underneath it, or the pantalettes.”

“You cannot see through…” Her argument was short-lived as he pulled her against his chest, where his arms held her steadily. Lia felt her face burn as the meaning of his words sank in. Her heart raced as she sought for an acceptable reply. Anything that would ease his anger, or persuade him to release her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, meeting his icy silver gaze. “They are the only clothes I have. What was I to do?”

“Stay in the cabin, as I ordered you yesterday.”

“I just wanted sunshine, and… to see you.” Her words hit her mark, effectively taking the gruff out of him.

“You should have waited for me. I would have taken you above. And you would have worn my coat, as you did yesterday, and every day before.”

She turned her face and stared out the bank of windows. He was right. She had worn his coat the past few days. He released his grip, and his hands traveled down to her waist. He leaned against the desk and pulled her to stand between his legs. The ship pitched, pushing her into him further. With her hands against his chest, she tried to back away, but he held her firmly in place.

Not wanting to argue when she was so close to rescuing Luchino and Maura, she buried her face in his chest and apologized. Taking another deep, steadying breath she half-heartedly pushed herself away from him, but another pitch of the ship prevented her from doing so.

Still, he held her close, refusing to let her go. His large hands began to move. One going up her back, the other down to cup her buttocks. The man confused her. His words were angry, yet his touch was sensual, demanding. A fluttering sensation grew and spread from low in her abdomen.

“I’ve discovered I have a possessive side to me, Lia, and I’ve never known an emotion as strong as this before.”

His deep voice held a barely-controlled, rough edge to it. Lia found it arousing to realize she could make him feel these things. Her own body’s reaction continued to surprise her.

“Have I done anything to give you cause to question my fidelity?”

“No.” He took her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him. What she saw in his eyes made her legs buckle beneath her. He wanted her again. Unmistakable desire burned in the depths of his dark silver gaze.

“You are a temptress,” he whispered into her temple. His hot breath sent erotic chills through her. “My temptress.” She melted into his massive frame, giving him her body, as his tongue traced a path around the shell of her ear. Leaning back, he looked into her eyes. “And I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered.

His lips thinned before he brought them down hard onto hers. He forced her mouth open and plundered it with his tongue. She found his possessiveness arousing. One of her hands reached into the V of his shirt to stroke the soft curls on his chest. Lia felt his groan in her mouth, as he continued his assault. His hand released her chin, only to move lower. He cupped her breast and began to squeeze it softly, his thumb playing over her n****e. Then did the same with the other.

His other hand was at the waist of her pantalettes, untying the simple knot, then pushing them down as low as he could without breaking the kiss. His fingers parted and found her.

Weakened with her own desire, Lia pressed closer to Ren. She kissed him back, and parted her legs, allowing him freer access. She moved her hips to meet the stroking of his fingers. She pulled his shirt out of his breeches and ran her hands over the firm muscles of his chest. Breaking away from his lips, she pushed his shirt up and brought her mouth down on one of his n*****s. He smelled of oranges and spices, mixed with the salty freshness of the Mediterranean. It was an intoxicating combination she found arousing from the moment they met.

He began to stroke her with his fingers, and she groaned when she felt that now familiar tightness building within her. Her head fell back and his gaze held hers as his fingers continued moving inside her, over her sensitive flesh. She moved in rhythm with his hand, stretching, reaching, yearning, against him and toward her release.

“My beautiful Lia,” he whispered.

Arching her back, she held his gaze as he watched her crest wave after wave. Lia shuddered once more, then fell onto him, sated. Ren grasped the neck of the kaftan she wore and ripped it in half. The sound of the thin material tearing echoed in her ears as he backed her onto the bed.

She started to protest, then he whispered, “Shh…” as he fumbled with the buttons of his breeches. Lia pushed them down his legs, then kicked her pantalettes off along with her sandals and lay back upon the mattress. She spread her legs, needing him to fill her. He entered in one swift, ardent thrust. She cried out his name. Lia wrapped her legs around him, wanting him as deep within her as he could possibly get. Their union was a wild, primitive mating, intended solely to provide release; to sate the tense, sexually charged aura between them. He moved quickly. Each stroke touched a certain place inside her that carried her higher and higher until her whole body tightened convulsively. She heard Ren growl her name as he, too, found release.

He rested on top of her while he caught his breath. When he attempted to back away from her, she pressed his buttocks with her heels, her inner muscles tightening around him—refusing to let him go. She wished they’d met under different circumstances. Perhaps then they might have had a conventional courtship, fallen in love, then marry as some of her friends had. As it stood, she would now spend the rest of her life in a loveless union, where her husband wanted only one thing from her. Heirs.

Admittedly, the physical loving was very satisfying. Still, Lia didn’t know much about this man. Well, except that he was a fine lover, who owned cargo ships, and was friends with Prince Hakim of Morocco. None of which recommended him as husband material. Yet this was the man she agreed to marry. Sailors were notorious for seeking the comfort of w****s while in port. And this man in particular, as handsome and s****l as he was, was likely more guilty than most. Why else would he have purchased her, a woman trained to please men?

“As much as I’d like to spend the day in bed with you, I have work to do. There will be time for more play later.” He refastened the buttons on his breeches and tucked in his shirt. Shoving his feet into his boots, he turned to her, his deep warm gaze caressing her bare legs. “We will be in Genoa tomorrow night. Although we won’t be able to dock until I receive clearance, I will send a boat with several men to gather information. They’ll keep watch on your aunt’s house. You will need to give them directions.”

He reached for the latch on the door and added, “I will return this afternoon and take you for a stroll on deck if you wish.”

Lia suddenly realized what he said. Genoa. They would be there tomorrow. She could barely contain her excitement. She would have her brother and Maura back, perhaps as soon as tomorrow night. Naked, she ran to Ren and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek repeatedly. “Thank you, thank you.”