Free Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) by Sandy Raven

where she turned to look up at him with that expressive emerald gaze he’d caught a glimpse of in the souk. In that vision, she’d worn an ivory gown. Other than the style of clothing, the only difference there was between that vision and this night was the necklace. Where he had envisioned her wearing his mother’s diamonds, tonight she wore pearls. He had the feeling then, as he did now, of permanence and stability.
    Or maybe it was just that he wanted both to such a degree that he projected it on this woman he didn’t know at all, but felt an attraction to.
    Finally, the dinner bowls were carried away and the entertainment began. Kamilah seemed to enjoy watching the dancers and listening to the musicians, so he stayed for two sets before he could wait no longer. There was a great deal he had to discuss with her—arrangements to be made, either to return her to her home, or not.
    Hopefully not.
    “I am sure you understand my wish to retire, Hakim. Kamilah and I have much to talk about. If you will excuse us, we will see you both tomorrow.” He held out a hand to help Kamilah stand.
    Ren watched as her gaze flew to Maysun’s as though she sought help from her friend. The other woman did not understand English, but the meaning behind his outstretched hand was obvious. Hakim and Maysun put their heads together and the concubine smiled as she listened to the prince say something to her in Arabic.
    Maysun looked at Kamilah. “ Buono fortuna, ” she said, waving at them as they walked away.

 
    C HAPTER F IVE
     
     
    L ia’s heart slammed against her breast, then dropped into her belly when the door shut with a soft thump. The Englishman didn’t lock the door she noted before scanning the rest of the room. She walked to the dresser, and found her toiletries carefully arranged on it, then in the alcove where the bathing tub rested, she noticed her robe laid across the chair back. Why were they here? What was he planning?
    “My things!”
    “I had them moved during dinner.” He smiled as he crossed the spacious expanse to the sideboard bearing several decanters and glasses.
    “But why, Your Grace?”
    “Because you don’t belong in the harem.” He poured two glasses of wine, and handed her one. She accepted it, their hands touching momentarily. His gaze met hers and held her captive. Unable to turn away, she began to tremble under his intense scrutiny and her mouth went dry. The crystal goblet shook as Lia lifted it to her lips. She took one sip, then another, to reinforce what little courage she had left, knowing she’d need every ounce to make it through this night. She knew the time had come for her to please her new master in every way he wished. She had to satisfy him enough so he would want to help her.
    “Where do I belong then?” Her voice quavered, as she tried to play the coquette. Lia remembered Ashraf’s words, “the most treasured jewel in a man’s harim is the woman who comes to him willingly.” The way her heart raced in her chest made her believe this might not be so unpleasant. In fact his touch sent a thrill coursing through her entire body.
    The Englishman reached out and stroked a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. “So soft,” he whispered. His fingers grazed the tip of her breast, and Lia’s knees buckled slightly from the shock of his touch. She could not fail. Her brother and Maura’s lives were at stake. Lia took another sip, then with an unladylike gulp, finished off her wine.
    “Ah, little one, not so fast.” He took her goblet away and set it on the table. “We have much to discuss. You’ll need your wits about you.” He smiled down at her, his dark silver eyes sparkling.
    She backed away a step, then turned toward the dresser, unable to face him, afraid he might suspect her attraction. Her fingers trailed across the marble top as she took several more steps. At the end of the long piece of furniture, she closed her eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath.