Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (13 page)

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she offered, her mood growing more tense the closer they got to Genoa.

He nodded, “Good morning to you, too.”

Lia handed Ren a mug and stood next to him as he maneuvered his lead ship,
Warlock
near a land mass, with
Sorceress
and
Sea Witch
close behind. The faint winds were growing colder the closer to Italy they got. Looking up, she saw the sails luffing as they struggled to catch the breeze.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“We have been running parallel to Sardinia all night.” He pointed ahead and to the east. “We’re almost to Corsica.”

The sun hung low in the east over the island, and stray wisps escaped the braid and blew about her face as she squinted toward their destination.

“How soon will we be in Genoa?”

“If the wind doesn’t pick up, two more days. A day and a half if we get lucky.”

Lia turned her face heavenward, closed her eyes. She said a prayer for good weather, more wind, and that they were not too late. She exhaled, relaxing somewhat, and turned back to Ren. “We must come up with a plan to take them from my aunt’s home.”

Their gazes met, his dark, silver eyes warming her inside. “We can do that when we get to Genoa and I send men out to do some reconnaissance. But before I do that, I’ll need some information.”

“Such as?”

“I need to know where I am going and who is likely to be there.” Ren nodded at the bearded man standing nearby, and handed the wheel to him. He led Lia down to the bow railing. “What reception will I receive were I to simply knock on the door and demand their release?”

“We will not be welcome.” Lia pushed the hair from her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “I fear she may try to keep Luchino from me.”

“Why? Why would the woman wish to have two more mouths to feed? If money is so tight that she robs you of your inheritance, she should be relieved to have them gone.”

Lia stared at Ren, and knew now was the time to tell him the rest of the story. “She did not get the inheritance for that sits in a trust. My brother and I each receive our portion at the age of twenty-one. Until then we receive a monthly allowance. The guardian of the trust is a man hired by my grandfather before his death, and my uncle was unable to remove him from the trust after he moved us to his home.”

He appeared confused, as his silver eyes bore into hers. “Have I done, or said something upsetting, Your Grace?”

“Who was your uncle?” His voice was tense as he clipped the words.

“My father’s brother was the Conte di Loretto. The man was a poor gambler who lost his half of the family fortune. His wife and children lived beyond their means for many years. Upon my uncle’s death, my cousin Ugo, who is as mean as his mother, inherited the title. And right now that makes my brother, Luchino, the heir to that fortune-less title. Except Luchino and I have a generous inheritance waiting for us.” Lia felt a fearful tremor rise within her. “With my brother and I out of the way, my
Zia
inherits it all.”

Lia had a difficult time trying to read his expression. He seemed pensive, yet his tightly-drawn lips indicated a measure of anger, and she couldn’t understand why. She held onto the rail as a wave rocked the ship. Turning to stare into the horizon, she continued. “My father was a second son who rejected his family as they rejected him when he married my mother. Some time after their marriage, my grandfather tried to make amends to my father, perhaps after realizing what a sad, drunken gambler my uncle was. He left my father an inheritance which Papa wanted no part of, so it sat in a bank in Genoa for many years. Maura said she was certain mama never knew of it.”

Lia sighed, wishing she could relive those events again and struggle harder against leaving Naples. “After my parents died, we suddenly had these relatives we didn’t know forcing us to leave our comfortable home and simple life, to move in with them. My mind still reels at the thought of how quickly they found us.

“My aunt wants the money, I know this. She would inherit it if we were gone. She arranged to have me killed, and it is only by the grace of God that I am here. I fear she will do the same to Luchino and Maura.”

Lia looked up at Ren. His lips were drawn tight, and his eyes darkened to near black as he stared down at her.

“I will need the name of the guardian and the bank when we get to Genoa.”

Lia nodded. She thought back to the day her aunt walked into their modest cottage, with her silk kerchief covering her nose and mouth, as though their home reeked. Lia had hated her from the moment their eyes met. “Please, I beg of you, be careful. She is a deceitful, uncaring and cruel woman. Someone with no regard for human life, not even her own blood relations.” In truth, the mere thought of the woman repulsed her. She wished she’d never set eyes on her all those months ago. How different her life would have been.

Lia chattered on nervously. “My father never used his familial ties to his advantage. He rejected the inheritance and his family. I never knew it existed. My parents were simple people. Academics. Scholars. From them, I learned to love books. Father taught me maths, science and politics. Father said I have the gift of an ear for languages, and I speak and read six fluently. I inherited my mother’s love of literature and poetry.”

She wondered if she should reveal her weaknesses to him, and decided it could hurt nothing, as he already seemed upset by her situation. “And yet, I am an embarrassment to my culture. I cannot draw or paint. I sing horribly, and play not one musical instrument.”

Lia turned to look into Ren’s eyes. His expression softened some, but only slightly. She rambled on nervously. “You will like my brother. He is intelligent and polite. I will keep him in line, and he will never be a bother. I promise.”

Ren led her by the elbow down to his cabin. “We will have your brother in a few days.” He sounded exasperated as he lifted a rolled chart from a container next to the bookcase. “Now, I have work to do, and arrangements to make once we reach Genoa if we are to pull this off.” He unrolled a chart on the table and placed a book on each corner, and began to work in silence.

Lia felt as though she’d been dismissed. She knelt on the bench and faced out the window. To her right was the coast of Sardinia, behind her the open waters of the Mediterranean. They had been getting along so well, she’d begun to think she was truly blessed to have crossed paths with him in Tangier’s market, and fortunate that he believed her. Now she wondered what she’d done to deserve his ire.

Never being one to let a question go unasked she said, “What have I done to upset you?”

From behind her she heard the shuffling of the pages as he went from one chart to the next. She went to the table and stood before him. He turned his cool, silver gaze up to her, his expression unreadable.

A minute later, he replied, “I told you last week I wanted your entire story. Yet just now you inform me that you come from noble lineage, and not a minor one at that, and that you are in possession of some wealth. This leads me to wonder what else you’ve neglected to tell me.”

She shifted, uncomfortable at his accusations. “I did tell you, you must not have understood. And, if you think I intentionally misled you in any way, I apologize. It was not my intent. I have always told you the truth.”

“Only the amount of truth you think necessary to best serve your need.”

“That is not so! I will not stand here and allow you to accuse me of lying to you—whether by omission or directly.” Lia reached for the bolt on the cabin door, intending to leave for much needed distance when a chill in his voice froze her in place.

“My men are sailors, not gentleman. You are not to leave this cabin without me.”

“Am I now a prisoner?”

“No. You are my
possession.
” The Englishman gathered the charts and his instruments, and stalked from the cabin. Lia wondered at his change in attitude toward her. For the past week, she’d been living with the illusion that he was a man of great compassion and noble character.

Now, she was discovering the man was moody, temperamental, and had a possessive side to him as well.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

L
ia spent the rest of the day alone in Ren’s cabin because rain kept her from remaining above deck. The captain’s cabin aboard
Warlock
was in the stern of the ship, just under the wheel deck. A row of windows, all opened wide, let in a slight breeze—just enough to ensure the room never got stuffy. The bed in the corner was easily as large as the one she had in the harem, though not nearly as soft. Behind a partition was a cabinet built into the wall that, when folded, hid a chamber pot. A wash stand next to that held a pitcher and basin, and a small folded linen towel. A rectangular dining table, which also doubled as Ren’s desk made use of the bench seating beneath the row of windows. The spacious room held nearly every comfort of home. His quarters even boasted a small library along one short wall, with which Lia quickly familiarized herself.

For dinner, Ren sent a boy down with a tray for her. The lamb stew with large chunks of vegetables was quite good. Ren obviously had an English cook, as the man went heavy with cream gravy. After eating as much as she could, she set the tray on the table, and readied herself for bed as the cabin grew dark.

She climbed on top of the mattress and moved as close to the wall as possible, leaving him more than half the bed. His attitude earlier both angered and puzzled her. The man had called her a liar. For that, she was not going to let him touch her tonight. Of course, she would only be denying herself pleasure by punishing him, but he had to learn she was not an object to possess, but a woman with honor, emotions and pride.

Lia replayed their last encounter over and over in her mind. She’d never given him cause to distrust her. Lia realized she had to convince him that she meant to live up to her agreement with him. But after this morning’s confusing behavior, and her subsequent imprisonment, that would have to wait until tomorrow.

The cabin door opened and Ren entered carrying a lantern, casting an eerie glow about the room. He hung it from the beam over his desk, and lowered the flame. Lia quickly closed her eyes. His footsteps told her he stood by the bed. The mattress sank under his weight when he sat on the edge. Each boot dropped to the floor with a deep thud, and he relieved himself of his clothing. She steadied her breathing as though asleep. He lifted the covers and slid between the sheets leaving them to cover only the lower portion of his body.

He didn’t reach out for her. Never touched her. Before long she heard his breathing slow, and knew he slept. Turning to her other side, she faced him and relaxed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest in the moonlight.

The next morning dawned clear, breezy and a little warmer. Last night she had slept soundly again. Another night without the terrible dream. Ren had dressed and left the cabin without disturbing her. A breakfast tray had been left for her on the table. She ate the tasteless fare, glad to have something in her belly.

Foregoing the coat, because of the warmer temperature, Lia stepped onto the deck, intending to stretch her legs by walking in the fresh sea air. The height of the sun in the sky told her the hour was now late. She spotted Ren standing at the helm, the large wheel under his hands. He’d not seen her yet, so she wasn’t sure what his mood was this day. She hoped the night had soothed his upset. It had for her.

He’d left the room without reaching for her, and Lia felt she’d made her point. She had to show him she intended to live up to her end of their agreement, and now felt it necessary to reach out to him. She warmed at the thought. Reaching out to the Englishman always ended up with her sated and exhausted.

She smiled as she took the steps onto the upper deck softly and approached him from behind. His entire body stiffened, as though he knew she stood there.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said cheerfully.

He turned toward her and his cold, hard stare raked over her body. He said nothing to her, but called to the man named Angus. When the other man appeared, Ren turned the wheel over to him and covered her with his jacket that hung on a nearby peg. He took Lia by the arm, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh above her elbow. He led her down the steps and back to the cabin, his hold unyielding until he pushed her through the door.

“What did I do? Why are you...?” She didn’t have time to finish as he stood mere inches in front of her, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body.

“Didn’t I tell you yesterday not to come above deck unless I accompanied you?”

“Yes, but...”

“Do not interrupt me,” he warned. “Look at your manner of dress. What you have on was fine in a Moroccan harem. My men aren’t used to seeing a lady clothed as you are. I can almost see through that kaftan, and I know you wear nothing underneath it, or the pantalettes.”

“You cannot see through....” Her argument was short-lived as he pulled her against his chest, where his arms held her steadily. Lia felt her face burn as the meaning of his words sank in. Her heart raced as she sought for an acceptable reply. Anything that would ease his anger, or persuade him to release her.