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

by Raven, Sandy

  Lia fought the tears as she recalled the day. They had been working in separate rooms, when a fire broke out, quickly consuming the building. From the stories told by witnesses, her father had been trapped behind a wall of flames and her mother ran to rescue him, only to be trapped herself. They never made it out. When their bodies were recovered from the rubble, they were holding each other.

  Lia had wanted a love that grand. She even believed she might find it one day—until her aunt and uncle had come to claim them. Now she was married and making the best of the situation—certainly not an unpleasant one—and about to have a child of her own. She prayed daily that the relationship between she and Ren might blossom. She felt some of the elements were there—the care, affection, and passion, so they were starting off on a better foot than most. But she wanted more, and she was hoping that the love she sought might come with time.

  She sighed and turned to face her maid. “I swear, this hair style will give me a headache before the evening is over.” Tugging at the low neckline of the gown. Lia tried to suck in her belly.

  “You aren’t showing yet, my lady. Why do you worry about your size?”

  “I just feel so fat,” she replied.

  “You look beautiful, my lady. His Grace will agree with me, I know it.”

  “What will he do when nothing I own fits any longer?”

  “He will understand that it’s his babe that grows, then call the modiste.”

  She chuckled. “I hope you’re right,” she said as she left the room in search of her husband. As she descended the wide, curving marble steps, she noticed the portraits hanging on the wall. Every male ancestor her husband had was depicted in his portrait finery, with a few wearing the robes of their office. But one painting stood out from all the rest, that of a gentleman Lia assumed was Ren’s father.

  Except for the receding hairline and gray hair, it could easily have been Ren. The same clear, silver eyes under dark, arched brows stared back at her, and the same high cheekbones with a sliver of a dimple under each. The man in the painting had a slightly fuller mouth than Ren, but even the dimples were exactly the same. She was looking at her husband’s father and seeing the future. Would her son one day look as regal and handsome?

  Suddenly, a warm current flowed through her and she became aware of another presence behind her. Turning, she smiled as she saw her husband standing near the base of the stairs. His molten-metallic gaze met hers, and he returned her smile.

  He cut a fine figure in his black breeches and waistcoat, with his snowy cravat knotted above the stiff collar. His black hair had been trimmed, and he appeared to have been freshly shaved.

  Lia felt his stare as it caressed her form. She found herself rooted to the step, unable to move, as Ren came toward her, reaching for her arm. Though his proud bearing and noble manners appealed to her, his handsome looks made him physically desirable from the first moment she saw him. But more than that, this man’s mere presence aroused her. When he touched her, small tremors coursed through her body. Her knees buckled as his lips brushed a kiss on her bare neck. Detecting her weakness, her husband wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the last steps to set her on the floor.

  “Come, wife,” he whispered. “The family awaits.”

  A flock of butterflies roused and fluttered in her belly, and she trembled slightly as he led her into the drawing room, where his grandmother, sisters, and Lucky waited. He leaned over and whispered an encouragement, and she nodded though she didn’t hear what he said. The only thought going through her head was that she wanted them to like her. It would give any relationship between them solid roots if they could get along.

  A footman came forward bearing a tray with two wine glasses, her husband took one and handed the other to her. She saw that his grandmother and Elise already held glasses, and the children held small cups.

  After greeting everyone, Lady Sewell rang the silver bell from the serving tray, gaining everyone’s attention. “I would like to say something,” the elder woman said. “I have waited for this day for a very long time. My grandson has found a treasure of a wife, in a foreign land, and did the smart thing by marrying her and bringing her home. Remember always how much you love each other this day.” Facing her she said, “May your lives be filled with happiness and children.” Then Lady Sewell turned to Ren, and continued. “May the seeds ye sow be as beautiful as your bride, as loving as my daughter, your mother, and as honorable as your father.”

  When Ren’s grandmother lifted her glass, everyone followed suit, including Lia. She thanked her new grandmother, and took a sip from her glass. Elise and Lady Sewell congratulated them, on their marriage and the upcoming babe.

  The door opened and the butler cleared his throat to catch their attention. He announced that dinner was ready to be served in the dining hall. Her husband came and raised his forearm to lead her into dinner.

  All through their meal her new grandmother led the conversation, questioning them on where and how they met, and as they had rehearsed, each question was skillfully answered. Thankfully, Ren had the foresight to instruct Luchino on the necessity of masking a few of the facts of their meeting and journey. He stressed his grandmother’s weakened constitution, and his sisters’ delicate sensibilities as the reason for doing so. She was so proud of her brother, because at eight years of age, he’d understood the importance of doing this for them, and performed his role with ease.

  Lia attempted to taste each dish that was set before her. If she could, she took one spoon or fork full, then pushed the rest of the food around on her plate, hoping no one noticed. Some dishes she was afraid to try because the smell of them was unsettling to her stomach. It went on like this for over an hour.

  After dessert, Sarah’s nurse came and took the two children away. Lia saw her husband wink at her brother, thanking him for his performance, and her brother winked back. Ren turned his head to hide his smile.

  The adults moved into the front parlor which was also used as a music room. Elise sat a the pianoforte and began to play a piece by Bach. She and Lady Sewell sat on a high-backed sofa, and her new grandmother began to tell Lia the story of their family, and how the shipping company came to be so important. “My first husband, Ren’s grandfather, was insistent that no son or grandson inherit shares of his company unless they knew the business from the bottom up. His own grandfather, who’d founded Aberdeen Trading, had done the same with him when he was a lad, and said that was how the company managed to never lose money. It was how he raised his son, Angus, and how it’s been ever since. Several times a year my grandson came north to Scotland and sailed with his uncle and his two cousins.”

  “And your husband, did he go with them?” Lia asked.

  Lady Sewell shook her silk-turbaned head. “Oh, no. My Robbie died when Angus was about fifteen. He caught a fever in the Indies on one of his many voyages. He left me a wealthy widow, and our son the owner of his shipping company, though everything was held in trust until they reached his majority. The guardian of that trust became my second husband, Lord Sewell. He was a good man, who knew how to turn a coin even if he couldn’t stomach the sea. He loved my children as his own, and he knew before we wed that I could have no others.”

  “You were fortunate in that,” Lia said.

  Lady Sewell agreed, then began to regale Lia with tales of Ren’s childhood, and when Lia laughed at something the older woman said, Elise stopped playing. “Do you sing or play, Your Grace? You’re sure to be better at it than I. Perhaps you would like to play for us?” she asked.

  Lia turned to her sister-in-law. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot do either.”

  The other girl’s eyebrow rose, in a manner similar to her brother’s. “Oh, then, do you ride?”

  “No. I never learned.”

  “Would you like to learn?” Elise asked. “I could teach you, you know.”

  “I thank you for the invitation.” Her hand absently slid down to her lower belly and hel
d it there. “But, I cannot risk it right now.”

  She didn’t want to use the babe as an excuse, but it truly was the reason she would not be getting on a horse anytime soon. When she politely declined the offer Lia saw a shutter close in Elise’s eyes, as though she was keeping Lia intentionally on the other side, proving that the animosity she felt when she met her new sister-in-law wasn’t her imagination. Sitting on the piano bench, with her hands folded on her lap, and a sweetly innocent smile on her angelic face, Lady Elise appeared the embodiment of graciousness itself as she extended the invitation.

  “When you are able,” her sister-in-law replied with a reserved smile, “I shall teach you.”

  Ren stood and came to her side, putting an arm around her. He appeared relaxed as he and his sister discussed the horses she’d purchased as the foundation for her new project. After a few minutes she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up. She saw a familiar look in the silvery depths of his eyes. One she had become very familiar with in their time together. Desire. It was the one constant in this man, her husband.

  When she stood, she laid her head on Ren’s chest. The other occupants of the room might have thought she was tired from her travels when, in reality, she inhaled his scent.

  “I believe my wife and I shall retire,” Ren announced. “She’s not been sleeping well, and tomorrow will be a long day for me. I have quite a bit to catch up on around here.”

  Standing next to her, he lifted his wife’s chin, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Are you ready, darling?”

  The words of affection came so easily from his lips and she wanted to believe he meant them because she had fallen in love with him. And Lia found herself wanting Ren to love her in return.

  She nodded, and they said their good nights. Ren led her from the room, and into the hallway. Once out of the sight of the rest of the family, he hugged her close and nuzzled her neck. “I’m not in the least tired,” he whispered. “Are you?”

  Lia couldn’t think clearly as his hands roved down her back, to cup her bottom. He pulled her closer, she met his steady gaze. She smiled, arched a brow, then shook her head in return.

  As they made their way up the wide, curved staircase, neither saw the grin on the face of the old woman standing in the doorway of the front parlor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ren opened the door to his room and led Lia in. Without releasing his hold on her hand, he dismissed his valet. He brought her into his arms again and kissed her. God help him, he wanted her, with such a fierce hunger it frightened him. He’d never felt this before. When he’d discovered Margaret’s infidelity with Thomas, the pain he felt was from the betrayal of a man thought of as a friend. It had little to do with the betrayal of the woman he was about to marry. Maybe that was because he didn’t love Margaret.

  Did he love Lia? Was that the difference? He wasn’t sure yet, but he’d never felt so possessive, never wanted any woman the way he wanted her. He felt an obsessive desire to keep her safe and always at his side.

  The need to become a part of her, and to have her become a part of him, was too intense for thought. It was an almost combustible, all-consuming desire. Her sweetness and uninhibited responses to his touch fanned a flame in his soul. The one that tied their lives together, giving them a child.

  He parted her lips and delved into her recess, tasting her sweetness. His hands stroked the silky-soft skin of her nape, working his fingers toward the pins holding her hair upon her head. Ever so deftly he removed each one, dropping them to the floor. He twined his fingers through the mass of dark curls cascading down her back. Never releasing her lips, he backed her toward the chairs in front of the hearth, blazing with a fire to ward off the chill of the night.

  He broke away from her, and lowered his frame into a seat, kicking off his shoes. He pulled her between his thighs. Lifting one of her legs, he removed her slipper, dropping it to the floor and placed her foot on the seat. With trembling hands he untied the ribbon holding her stocking. Rolling it down slowly, he allowed his hands to caress the curve of her calf and delicate skin of her ankle before removing the thin material and letting it pool on top of the shoe. He did the same with the stocking on the other leg, then stood and began working on the row of tiny buttons on the back of her gown.

  Ren’s body ached to be free of his clothing, but this was for her. His release would come later. Finally, he had the last fastening undone. He lifted the dress over her head, leaving his wife standing in her underclothes. His fingers worked the laces of the corset, then the petticoats, and with much aggravation he finally removed them from her body. It left her standing in her fine chemise, her woman’s curves silhouetted against the glow of the fire behind her.

  Lia untied his cravat and it fell silently to the floor when he stood, and then removed his waistcoat and shirt. His eyes never left hers. A tremor rocked him when she touched his skin. In all his life, he couldn’t remember having this deep a reaction to any woman. No one had ever been so willing, so sincere in her affections with him. His mistresses never denied him, but they expected payment for their performance.

  His wife didn’t shy away from touching him, she didn’t object to kissing his body, or loving him intimately. Ren smiled when he remembered how Lia told him that he’d been cheated when he revealed his mistresses had refused that certain act.

  His hands returned to his wife, kneading her shoulders. He lowered his head to her neck, inhaling her unique scent of fresh-cut roses and musk, and he tasted of her warm flesh. Slowly, his lips traced a feather-light path from behind her ear to the curve of her neck, where he brought his mouth down and began to nibble. Her breaths and moans spurred him onward, and he pushed aside the material to devour more of her, to feel her flesh touching his.

  He lifted the remaining garment over her head, and it fell to the floor in a whisper of cascading fabric. Ren lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down in the middle of the deep, soft mattress before divesting himself of his breeches. He lowered himself next to her and propped himself upon his elbow.

  “Lia, look at me.” His own voice was so strained he didn’t even recognize it.

  She obeyed, looking up at him with such love and trust. He suddenly felt at a loss for words. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t live without her, that he needed her in more ways than just as a vessel for his release and cradle for his heirs. But didn’t know how.

  So he showed her. With his body.

  Ren touched her. With his hands and lips he worshiped her, this woman, the cradle of his child, his wife. He caressed the valley below her navel, where his son or daughter grew. Leaning into her, he kissed her lips again, then down to kiss her belly.

  Lia stirred and moaned, her hands finding their way into his hair. Ren became emboldened and allowed his lips to rove lower. Stopping at her downy curls, he inhaled her musk, and parted her, his fingers delving into her. She was moist, ready for him. But he wanted this to last forever, so he slowed his hand. Moving up her body, he took her lips again. His tongue parted her mouth and explored her, memorizing every sharp edge, every smooth surface. She moaned and arched her body into his, and he chuckled softly.

  “Soon, love,” he murmured. “Soon. I want you as well.”

  Taking her hand, he laid it over his heart, and stared into those magnificent emerald eyes. “Can you feel what you do to me? Feel me.”

  He then moved her hand down to cover his hardness. “This is what you do to me, Lia. I wanted to come to you so badly last week, but I was afraid.”

  “You only had to knock, husband,” she whispered. “I would not have refused you.”

  “I know that now, though I still fear....” His voice sounded gravelly, even to his own ears.

  “You will not hurt me, or the babe,” she stated. “Get that idea out of your head.”

  Ren kissed her again, his hands roving over her form. He moved lower, parting her and loving her with his tongue on her most sensitive spot until she c
ried out with her first release. He pulled himself up and entered her slowly, filling her completely before moving.

  If ever he were to lose his sight, it wouldn’t be the sunrise, sunset, or change of seasons he would miss. It would be the look on his wife’s face at that moment, with a tear perched on her dark lashes and her emerald eyes so full of passion. This woman was his soul. As no other ever was.

  As no other ever would be.

  It wasn’t long before he needed to pick up the pace in order to give them their completion. And they found it minutes later, when he offered his soul to her.

  Later, as she lay sleeping in his arms, he watched her deep, even breathing, and wondered how he was going to tell her he’d fallen in love with her.

  Two months later her husband walked into the drawing room as she and his grandmother visited with the wife and mother-in-law of the local parson. He asked to speak with her privately, and Lia excused herself, and went with him into the library. After the door shut behind them he took her up in his arms and kissed her.

  She pushed him away, and began to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt. “Stop. You’ll muss my hair and clothing, and I must return to spare your grandmother Mrs. Elliot’s entire laundry list of physical ailments. She’s only just begun, and is explaining how her gouty foot has been.”

  He smiled, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I must go to Town on business,” her husband said. “I may be gone a week or two, maybe even three. Depending.”

  When he said no more, Lia suspected something might be wrong. “Has your cousin been found?”

  He shrugged. “We think he’s dead,” Ren said. “According to Michael, it appears to be him, the identification on the body says it’s him. I want to be certain before my aunt in Cornwall is notified. I would spare her undue pain if I could. So I must hurry.”