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

Her skin burned. This man’s touch made her entire body ache.
    “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Call me Ren.” He stepped toward her.
    She retreated farther, and eyed him cautiously. He appeared to be a predator stalking his prey, and her body was what he hungered for. She wasn’t afraid of the acts to come, for she’d been both educated in performing them, and prepared physically to arouse him. But she sensed an intensity in his passion, and it was this which she feared. For the Englishman did not impress her as having a single subdued bone in his body.
    “That goes against convention, Your Grace, and makes me uncomfortable.”
    Ren hoped to quell her nerves by taking her out to the relaxing garden. He held out his arm for her. “Come, walk with me.” He led her through an open doorway, into a small, private garden, lush with the citrus scent of orange and lemon blossoms, mixed with colorful large tropical flowers. Somewhere off in the distance he heard the haunting sounds of a buzouk and l’oud being played. It was a perfect setting for getting to know this woman. But first he had to put her at ease. He hoped to calm her trembling hands, and allay the skeptical and wary glances he got from her.
    Perhaps it would help her to talk first, and of course they should, as it was her future that was in question. Talking also might help to temper his raging ardor. He’d done nothing but imagine this woman naked in his bed from the moment he saw her in the palace garden before dinner.
    “We can speak out here Kamilah.”
    “If you wish me to use your Christian name, I would ask that you call me by mine as well. I am Angelia Serena, or just Lia. I am neither Arabic, nor Muslim. I am proud of my family name, and the Christian name my parents chose for me.”
    “Lia. It suits you.” His deep voice caressed Lia’s soul as he repeated her name. “Tell me about yourself, Lia.”
    Taking a deep breath, she decided honesty was the only way for her. “There is really only one thing to know, Your Grace. My parents died eight months ago, and my aunt tried to have me killed. The men who were supposed to kill me sold me instead. Those same men are scheduled to return to kill my brother any day now, and I must try to save him. If you will not help me, I will die trying to do it without you.”
    Suddenly frightened he might refuse her, Lia lifted her gaze to his, her breath caught in her chest. She forced herself to calm. From their earlier conversation at dinner, he seemed a reasonable sort, this Englishman, and she knew the only way to reach a man like him was through rational deliberation.
    After a long, uncomfortable minute he had yet to say anything in reply to her revelation.
    “Does your decision to help me rest upon my performance in your bed?” she asked.
    That drew a response. He lifted a brow, the shock evident in his gaze. “You speak rather plainly.”
    “Well, does it? I must know.”
    Again, no reply. She watched the muscle in his cheek jump, and his dimples pull taught. He seemed to ponder her words. “Keeping me against my will makes me a slave, and I am no man’s slave. I am a gentleman’s daughter, from a noble family.” She kept her tone even, not wanting him to suspect her fear. “And I must save my brother and our elderly nurse.”
    His eyebrows rose with astonishment at her impassioned, yet firm, plea for his assistance.
    “I’ve read about men like you,” she continued. “Merchantmen. Traders. You bring European goods to Arabia, take slaves from Africa to your plantations in the Indies, and then the products of those plantations back to Europe.”
    “What makes you think I am like those men? And, how do you come to know so much of world affairs?”
    “As I said earlier this evening, Your Grace, there is much you do not know about me.”
    His deep, soothing voice took a decidedly frigid tone. “Tell me everything. Where do you come from, and who is your family?”
    She turned to him, her outward