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

He wanted her.... She needed him.

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. 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 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.”

C
AVERSHAM’S
B
RIDE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012, Sandy Raven

ISBN:
 
978-1-939359-01-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.

Cover design by
The Killion Group, Inc

www.thekilliongroupinc.com
 

Digital formatting by
Author E.M.S.

www.authorems.com
 

Dear Reader,

Caversham’s Bride
was previously published for a short period of time in 2001, under the title
The Duke’s Heart
. Because I loved this family I’d created so much, I always wanted to see this series completed. So as I was preparing
The Caversham Chronicles
for publication, I revised my ‘Duke’ extensively and realized that, in those revisions, the phrase that inspired the previous title no longer accurately fit the novel. Ren’s pressing need for a bride and legal heir was still central to his motivation, and this is what inspired the new title.

I hope you enjoy the story of Ren and Lia, and that you find the siblings of both engaging enough that you’ll want to read their stories. Look for the second, third, and fourth of this series coming in the next few months. And soon after that, the stories of The Next Generation, which is already underway.

I would love to hear from you! So, if you have any questions or comments, I’m online at:

www.SandyRaven.com
 

and on Facebook at:
 

www.facebook.com/SandyRavenAuthor

Sincerely,

Sandy Raven

D
EDICATION

To my darling Curtis,

My
Duke of Caversham
(Drive)

I Belong to You

To D1 and D2,

You are my Pride and Joys

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

A lot of writers work in a vacuum for most of the creative process, and I am certainly guilty of it myself. But publication is a concerted effort of many people and to these people, I owe my most sincere gratitude: Gail Shelton, my friend, my editor. I<3U! I want to thank Kim, Abby, Megan, and Jennifer at The Killion Group, you ladies do fabulous work AND reply to 1 a.m. e-mails. But I have a question: is it too late to.... (just kidding!)

To Carolyn, Kristi, Belinda, Gail, and Vicky: my first writing friends who believed in me and encouraged me. I still love you guys.

To Janet, Marilyn, Beverly and Nita: my riding buds. Thanks for putting up with me when I hibernate in my writing cave. I wish I could clone myself so we could ride together more often.

Carol Sue, Mary Michael, Cha-Cha, you have been there for me forever. I love you.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

Genoa, Italy, December 1818

T
he footsteps following her were not her imagination. Lia quickly glanced over her shoulder, but saw no one behind her as she wound her way down the narrow side street which led to her destination. The cold, light mist that had fallen all evening now became a slow, steady rain. She pulled her black woolen cloak tighter around her, but the chill she felt came more from within. Lia halted, and heard the footsteps also stop. Every nerve in her body tensed, and the baby-fine hairs sprinkling her arms stood on end. Quickening her pace, she resumed her trek toward the chemist’s shop, praying she’d find help there.

Why didn’t she question being sent on this errand? She should have seen for herself if Julianna was really as sick as her aunt said. She knew her cousin was plagued by painful
monthly courses, but to her knowledge, no one had ever died from their monthly flux. Tonight, as she was getting ready for bed, her aunt entered her room and told her that her cousin was in need of a large vial of laudanum to help her through the week ahead. The woman then orders her to go out and get it.

Now Lia wished she had thought about the foolishness of going on such an errand alone, and at this time of night. If she had, she would have refused.

The footsteps behind her moved faster. The heavy thud of large boots on the pavement told Lia her pursuer was a man.

Picking up her skirt, she ran. Another hundred yards or so and she would reach
Signore
DelPonte’s. Her aunt assured her he would still be there. If not, dear God, what would she do? She knew the chemist resided above his place of business. But, would he hear her if she pounded on his door?

A cat scurried out from a recessed doorway. Lia nimbly jumped over it and continued running. The man chasing her tripped over the animal and fell. The creature’s loud screech pierced the deathly quiet, sending a flurry of curses erupting into the damp night. A cold shiver raced up her spine when she realized her pursuer continued his chase.

Her heart pounded out her every step as she rounded the corner and saw no lights in
Signore
DelPonte’s shop. Lia ran past it now looking for a place, any place, to hide. Her stalker quickly closed the distance between them. Crossing the narrow street, she dashed into an alleyway, hoping to lose him.

A dead end!

Turning back to the street, she crashed into her follower, the impact knocking her to the ground. Dim moonlight revealed a brawny man, his dark-bearded and scarred face grimaced while his dirty hands reached out to grab her. With every ounce of energy she had, Lia pushed him enough to throw him off balance. She scrambled along on her hands and feet until she recovered her footing to continue her flight.

Suddenly, Lia was yanked backward, choked by her own cloak. As she reached for the clasp to release it, the man grabbed her arm and jerked it behind her. The burning pain in her shoulder brought tears to her eyes and she screamed. She screamed as loud and as long as she could—until something hard crashed down onto her head, rendering her mute for a moment. Even so, still she fought for her freedom, kicking back with her right foot, hoping to reach the man’s leg or knee.

“
Che testa dura
,” her gravelly-voiced attacker said. Lia screamed again, just before he hit her on the head once more. This time his blow sent her tumbling into oblivion.

V
oices. One of them familiar. Lia stirred and tried to raise herself, but the intense pain throbbing in her skull prevented her. Forcing the fog from her head, she concentrated on the muted sounds she heard through the scratchy produce sack enveloping her. She lay on a cart of some kind, most likely a farmer’s cart, as the hay beneath her reeked of the pungent aroma of green olives.

Nearby, a donkey brayed, and the voices drew nearer. A man and a woman. Lia sensed their presence beside the cart. Someone poked her in the ribs with a hard, pointed object. White-hot pain shot through her entire body, but she didn’t move or make a sound lest they hurt her worse. Again she was jabbed, and this time she bit her lip to keep from crying out.