Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (10 page)

Lia could now see some truth in the old whoremaster’s words. A willing woman could ask her man for the moon and he would attempt to give it to her. Only old Ashraf never said the power a woman held over a man would thrill her to the point it made her
want
to please him.

Once the tunic was on the floor, her hands went to the drawstring waist of the pantalettes and untied them. “Let me,” he whispered before she lowered them.

Eyes lowered as instructed she felt a warm excitement in her breast. “Look at me.” She did as she was told, fighting a strange desire to smile at him. His hands raked her skin as he placed two fingers into the waist of her pantalettes, his rough palms grazing over her sensitive flesh, and pulled the drawstring loose. Removing his hands, he let the silken garment fall to the ground.

Lia stood before him, naked except for the sandals on her feet. His hands reached out to touch her breasts, and she leaned into them, wanting his touch on her body. She held his gaze. His hands moved lower, coming to rest over her belly, sending rivulets of fire through her veins. One hand turned and he cupped the smooth, hairless skin of her femininity. He looked into her eyes, and she understood his question.

“I have been denuded for your pleasure, Your Grace,” she said in a quivering voice, while willing her knees not to give out.

“I’d not thought to ask before now, but how old are you?”

“I am nineteen.” She wondered if the fact that she were so old would repulse him.

“That is good.” His fingers parted her and one slid over her nub, causing her to moan, then buckle slightly at his invasion, her hands reached out to his shoulders to steady herself.

“Relax, Lia,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck. “Enjoy what you are feeling.”

“I....” She couldn’t speak because the clenching sensation in her womb began to spread through her entire body, sending a flood of liquid warmth flowing to her core. An aching need to be filled began and she rocked back and forth over his hand, pleasuring herself on him.

The Englishman chuckled softly, and removed his hand. “Not so fast, my sweet one, we have all night.”

His hands traveled down the inside of her thighs, to her knees. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, perplexing her. “I was taught to pleasure my master. No one told me I would find such pleasure in my master’s touch.”

He lifted one of her feet and placed it between his knees on the chair. “Then your instructor did you a grave disservice.” His hands caressed her calf and lower, to her ankle, where he untied and removed the gold sandal she wore. When he finished, he did the same with her other leg. Once the second sandal was removed, he allowed her foot to remain between his thighs as his hands roamed upward again. His touch trailed sweet excitement and torture over the inside of her calf, knee, and inner thigh, to continue his exquisite exploration of her most private place.

“No man has ever touched you?”

“Never, Your Grace.”

“Ren,” he corrected.

Lia groaned his name as his fingers found her sensitive nub again and began to rub over it with a gentle touch and rhythm that caused a moan to slip from her mouth. Her eyes had long ago closed, and her breathing became ragged as she focused on the pleasure he gave her. Occasionally he would dip a finger or two into her to bring more of her wetness forth. He caused an exquisite torture she prayed would never end. Her entire body thrummed with sensations, all originating under his hand and ending when she fell headfirst into a dizzying vortex that opened up and began to pull her in. Lia moaned as the delicious sensations increased, building up inside her as she spiraled out of control.

When she thought she could take no more, he moved his fingers inside of her and his thumb continued the ministrations on her nub. His other hand cupped her bottom, steadying her as her entire body quivered, then tensed. Lia cried out his name as she shattered into thousands of pieces before collapsing onto him.

He gently slid his fingers out of her, and brought her down onto his lap then wrapped his arms about her, holding her close. That simple act of holding her within his arms, caused her to feel safe and cherished, even if only for the time being. It was something she’d not felt in quite a while, and not something she wanted to lose. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he cradled her while she recovered her strength and breath.

Lifting her in his arms as he stood, he carried her to the turned-down bed, and laid her across it. The sheets were cool, and when he pulled away from her, the night air swept across her heated skin, chilling her. His boots hit the floor with a thud, and she watched as he shed his clothing.

When she had first seen him earlier this evening, she thought him to be a large man, but she’d underestimated his size. Surely this was the tallest, broadest-chested figure she’d ever seen. A faint sprinkling of soft black hair covered his entire body, thicker in some places than others.

With his back to her, she watched as he lowered his breeches, admiring his form while he was unaware. He was beautiful, she thought. The Englishman was truly a human form to rival that of the great sculptures of male nudes. When he turned to her, she stared at his engorged organ. The marble dildo she practiced fellatio on was no where near this big. Lia wondered how she was expected to take that within her body. She didn’t have long to wait, because soon the bed sank under his weight, and he stretched out next to her.

Once again, he reached out a hand to lightly skim over her belly with his knuckles. They traveled upwards to cup her breast. Her body reacted to him in ways she’d never expected or had been prepared for. She watched as her own breasts seemed to stand taller when his thumb rubbed over the top. He pinned her down with an arm as he lazily leaned over her. Then his mouth came down onto her already hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He laved on it softly, running his tongue over its tip, sending more rivulets of fire coursing through her.

Her body involuntarily arched up into him as she moaned. He slid over her and did the same to the other nipple. His lips and tongue trailed hot kisses upward, over her neck, and chin, to taste her mouth again.

She met his lips, wanting his kiss as much as she believed he wanted to kiss her. She opened for him and his tongue delved into her, exploring every facet of her mouth, and she reciprocated. The Englishman tasted of honey and wine, a stimulating combination that she discovered she couldn’t get enough of. He trailed tender kisses over her cheek and to her ear, where he toyed with her lobe. She tucked her chin and chuckled, turning away from his touch.

“Ticklish?” When she nodded, he increased his pressure and continued exploring.

Traveling lower, he licked his way down the valley of her breasts, over her belly, then came to a stop at the crest of her womanhood. His tender touch made her entire body tremble with barely leashed passion. Lia had an idea of what to expect, but the reality was far superior to the telling. So far she was the one receiving pleasure, she’d yet to please him.

The moment his tongue touched her most private area she cried out. His intimate kiss caused her body to jerk away from his mouth. His warm hands held her in place as his tongue continued its assault. Again, he dipped a finger into her, then two, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.

Before long, she was once again writhing in ecstasy. “Please,” she cried out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said sliding over her. He came to rest in the cradle between her thighs, where he fit perfectly.

She did as he’d asked, and he parted her, gently pressing the head of his shaft into her. She moaned beneath him, and tilted her hips, letting him deeper within.

“There is no other way,” he murmured reassuringly. “If there were, believe me, I would take it.”

She nodded and he pulled out, then entered her again more forcefully, and she felt the stinging, burning sensation for only a moment. Then she exhaled, and inhaled slowly. Her new lover held still, and his kindness brought tears to her eyes. She turned away from him and wiped them. “I am sorry for my reaction. I was told the first time would be somewhat uncomfortable, but I am fine now.” she said.

Kissing her temples, he whispered, “It will never hurt again. I promise.”

Her lover stayed deeply embedded inside of her, stretching her, filling her. The initial burning dissipated, replaced by the wondrous sensation of being filled by a man as only God intended. He remained this way a moment to allow her body to stretch and accommodate him. She moved upward to take him in deeper, and her Englishman began to move inside her. Withdrawing partially and thrusting back in, each plunge created new sensations that brought her to another level of euphoria, far surpassing what she’d experienced earlier.

He drove into her repeatedly, each stroke reaching new depths inside her. He began to move faster and deeper still. His ragged breathing, mixed with soft words of encouragement pushed her toward the edge of that wonderful oblivion he had brought her to only minutes earlier. Lia moved with him, reaching upward to meet him, wanting an unnameable something she sensed only he could provide. She cried out for him as she felt her body coil and tighten. He gave a final, deep thrust, causing her to shatter beneath him while he poured his seed into her depths. Only then did he collapse on top of her.

Minutes later, he rolled off and lay on his back, bringing her into the crook of his arm. She winced at the movement, but he was so tender as he cradled her head against his shoulder while she collected herself.

“Hmmm. I enjoyed that,” she whispered.

“I, too, enjoyed it, Lia,” he said. “And I shall try to always make our bed a pleasurable place for you.”

“You are unlike what I was told to expect,” she said.

“As are you.” He idly stroked her arm, then added, “I was not sure what to expect, especially after the night of the auction. Honestly, I hadn’t thought to keep you at all. Until tonight. When I entered the courtyard and saw you, I suspected you might be an interesting diversion for a few days.” She lifted up on her elbow and stared at him, a worried furrow on her brow. “After what just happened, I could never let you go.”

“You will still help me?”

“I will help you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She laid her cheek on his breast, and yawned.

“Ren.”

“Hmmm. Ren,” she repeated in her heavily accented English.

B
efore long, Ren knew she slept. He slept too, for a while, though not long. The woman beside him baffled him. Aside from her beauty, she appeared to be intelligent and an eager lover. If she was truly a gentleman’s daughter, then marrying her would present no issues.

There was her family, and if what she believed about her aunt was true. Before his own cousin attempted to kill him, he would have thought surely Lia was mistaken. What elderly woman would behave so horribly as to murder her own niece and nephew? But now....

If he was to marry her, and as of now that was his plan, he had to know the whole truth. He really didn’t want to think of her a practiced liar and scheming woman out to dupe him for his title and fortune. A man could only tolerate one of those in his life before he swore off marriage altogether.

And the sex they’d just had was so satisfying and intense, that even if she were lying, he might still keep her as mistress.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

L
ia soaked neck-deep in the hot water until it cooled and her finger tips began to resemble the sun-dried Moroccan dates she found so tasty. Still she was loath to leave the scented water for it relaxed her as only a hot bath could. She closed her eyes and thought about this man who was her “master.”

At first she considered running from this Englishman, but if he was going to help her save Luchino and Maura as he promised, then she would gladly warm his bed for as long as he desired. Last night, when she had agreed to marry him, she had been desperate and would have agreed to anything he asked of her. In the bright light of day, she couldn’t believe he was serious. Did he really want to marry her?

Not knowing if Luchino and Maura were still alive terrified her. And that was what caused her tears last night. There wasn’t much time left, and if she didn’t at least try, she would never forgive herself.

A door behind her opened and shut softly, the footsteps muted on the carpet. She assumed the servant returned with her breakfast tray.

“This feels so good Iamar, I regret having to get out. Would you bring the tray here, and I’ll eat while I enjoy this water a bit longer.” Receiving no response, she called out, “Iamar?”

Lia turned and tried to look through the carved wooden screen, but saw only black on the other side. As her gaze rose higher, she saw white, and looking to the top of the screen, she saw the Englishman, his chin resting on bare, tanned forearms. His clean-shaven face bore a rakish grin, as he watched her in her bath.

Suddenly every inch of her flesh tingled with excitement, and her hair felt as though it stood on end. She shivered at his nearness, wondering if she had truly pleased him last night. Sinking lower into the tub, she brought her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms about them, in an attempt to hide herself from his stormy gray eyes.