Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (36 page)

She nodded, and they said their good nights. Ren led her from the room, and into the hallway. Once out of the sight of the rest of the family, he hugged her close and nuzzled her neck. “I’m not in the least tired,” he whispered. “Are you?”

Lia couldn’t think clearly as his hands roved down her back, to cup her bottom. He pulled her closer, she met his steady gaze. She smiled, arched a brow, then shook her head in return.

As they made their way up the wide, curved staircase, neither saw the grin on the face of the old woman standing in the doorway of the front parlor.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

R
en opened the door to his room and led Lia in. Without releasing his hold on her hand, he dismissed his valet. He brought her into his arms again and kissed her. God help him, he wanted her, with such a fierce hunger it frightened him. He’d never felt this before. When he’d discovered Margaret’s infidelity with Thomas, the pain he felt was from the betrayal of a man thought of as a friend. It had little to do with the betrayal of the woman he was about to marry. Maybe that was because he didn’t love Margaret.

Did he love Lia? Was that the difference? He wasn’t sure yet, but he’d never felt so possessive, never wanted any woman the way he wanted her. He felt an obsessive desire to keep her safe and always at his side.

The need to become a part of her, and to have her become a part of him, was too intense for thought. It was an almost combustible, all-consuming desire. Her sweetness and uninhibited responses to his touch fanned a flame in his soul. The one that tied their lives together, giving them a child.

He parted her lips and delved into her recess, tasting her sweetness. His hands stroked the silky-soft skin of her nape, working his fingers toward the pins holding her hair upon her head. Ever so deftly he removed each one, dropping them to the floor. He twined his fingers through the mass of dark curls cascading down her back. Never releasing her lips, he backed her toward the chairs in front of the hearth, blazing with a fire to ward off the chill of the night.

He broke away from her, and lowered his frame into a seat, kicking off his shoes. He pulled her between his thighs. Lifting one of her legs, he removed her slipper, dropping it to the floor and placed her foot on the seat. With trembling hands he untied the ribbon holding her stocking. Rolling it down slowly, he allowed his hands to caress the curve of her calf and delicate skin of her ankle before removing the thin material and letting it pool on top of the shoe. He did the same with the stocking on the other leg, then stood and began working on the row of tiny buttons on the back of her gown.

Ren’s body ached to be free of his clothing, but this was for her. His release would come later. Finally, he had the last fastening undone. He lifted the dress over her head, leaving his wife standing in her underclothes. His fingers worked the laces of the corset, then the petticoats, and with much aggravation he finally removed them from her body. It left her standing in her fine chemise, her woman’s curves silhouetted against the glow of the fire behind her.

Lia untied his cravat and it fell silently to the floor when he stood, and then removed his waistcoat and shirt. His eyes never left hers. A tremor rocked him when she touched his skin. In all his life, he couldn’t remember having this deep a reaction to any woman. No one had ever been so willing, so sincere in her affections with him. His mistresses never denied him, but they expected payment for their performance.

His wife didn’t shy away from touching him, she didn’t object to kissing his body, or loving him intimately. Ren smiled when he remembered how Lia told him that he’d been cheated when he revealed his mistresses had refused that certain act.

His hands returned to his wife, kneading her shoulders. He lowered his head to her neck, inhaling her unique scent of fresh-cut roses and musk, and he tasted of her warm flesh. Slowly, his lips traced a feather-light path from behind her ear to the curve of her neck, where he brought his mouth down and began to nibble. Her breaths and moans spurred him onward, and he pushed aside the material to devour more of her, to feel her flesh touching his.

He lifted the remaining garment over her head, and it fell to the floor in a whisper of cascading fabric. Ren lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down in the middle of the deep, soft mattress before divesting himself of his breeches. He lowered himself next to her and propped himself upon his elbow.

“Lia, look at me.” His own voice was so strained he didn’t even recognize it.

She obeyed, looking up at him with such love and trust. He suddenly felt at a loss for words. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t live without her, that he needed her in more ways than just as a vessel for his release and cradle for his heirs. But didn’t know how.

So he showed her. With his body.

Ren touched her. With his hands and lips he worshiped her, this woman, the cradle of his child, his wife. He caressed the valley below her navel, where his son or daughter grew. Leaning into her, he kissed her lips again, then down to kiss her belly.

Lia stirred and moaned, her hands finding their way into his hair. Ren became emboldened and allowed his lips to rove lower. Stopping at her downy curls, he inhaled her musk, and parted her, his fingers delving into her. She was moist, ready for him. But he wanted this to last forever, so he slowed his hand. Moving up her body, he took her lips again. His tongue parted her mouth and explored her, memorizing every sharp edge, every smooth surface. She moaned and arched her body into his, and he chuckled softly.

“Soon, love,” he murmured. “Soon. I want you as well.”

Taking her hand, he laid it over his heart, and stared into those magnificent emerald eyes. “Can you feel what you do to me? Feel me.”

He then moved her hand down to cover his hardness. “This is what you do to me, Lia. I wanted to come to you so badly last week, but I was afraid.”

“You only had to knock, husband,” she whispered. “I would not have refused you.”

“I know that now, though I still fear....” His voice sounded gravelly, even to his own ears.

“You will not hurt me, or the babe,” she stated. “Get that idea out of your head.”

Ren kissed her again, his hands roving over her form. He moved lower, parting her and loving her with his tongue on her most sensitive spot until she cried out with her first release. He pulled himself up and entered her slowly, filling her completely before moving.

If ever he were to lose his sight, it wouldn’t be the sunrise, sunset, or change of seasons he would miss. It would be the look on his wife’s face at that moment, with a tear perched on her dark lashes and her emerald eyes so full of passion. This woman was his soul. As no other ever was.

As no other ever would be.

It wasn’t long before he needed to pick up the pace in order to give them their completion. And they found it minutes later, when he offered his soul to her.

Later, as she lay sleeping in his arms, he watched her deep, even breathing, and wondered how he was going to tell her he’d fallen in love with her.

T
wo months later her husband walked into the drawing room as she and his grandmother visited with the wife and mother-in-law of the local parson. He asked to speak with her privately, and Lia excused herself, and went with him into the library. After the door shut behind them he took her up in his arms and kissed her.

She pushed him away, and began to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt. “Stop. You’ll muss my hair and clothing, and I must return to spare your grandmother Mrs. Elliot’s entire laundry list of physical ailments. She’s only just begun, and is explaining how her gouty foot has been.”

He smiled, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I must go to Town on business,” her husband said. “I may be gone a week or two, maybe even three. Depending.”

When he said no more, Lia suspected something might be wrong. “Has your cousin been found?”

He shrugged. “We think he’s dead,” Ren said. “According to Michael, it appears to be him, the identification on the body says it’s him. I want to be certain before my aunt in Cornwall is notified. I would spare her undue pain if I could. So I must hurry.”

She nodded.

“This does not mean you can leave the grounds yet. I know you wish to go into the village to shop, but wait for my return. Until I know for certain he’s gone, I will take no chances with you or our child.”

“Fine. I’ll wait,” she said. Remembering something, she added, “Mrs. Steen said in the letter I received yesterday that the rest of my new clothing arrived from the modiste. Could you bring them with you when you return?”

He nodded, and when she turned to go back to join the other women, her husband held her from behind, placing his hands over her growing belly. “Hopefully the new dresses will have enough room for my child to grow.”

“That’s why I had her make new ones. I’m afraid I’m getting as big as a cow.”

He held her closer. “You are not as big as a cow. This is my child growing in here,” he said as he stroked her belly, “and he needs more room to move. At least that’s how it felt last night as he stretched and turned.” He turned her in his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You are beautiful, wife. Never forget that.”

“I’m glad you think so, because it’s you’re fault I’m getting big.”

E
lise traveled to London to meet him for the funeral of their cousin, Lord Thomas Whitby. The rest of the family remained behind at Haldenwood.

Both he and Michael identified the body as that of his cousin. Ren then sent a letter to his aunt in Cornwall. Within days Thomas’ body was in the ground and Ren began to feel a great weight lift off his back. It was a freedom he had not felt since before the death of his father and stepmother. There was a small measure of happiness mixed with that relief, and he felt as though the future was finally looking up for their family.

Upon his return to Haldenwood, Cartland’s added security detail was allowed to return to Town, as Ren now felt confident enough to travel for work again, leaving his home with just their staff to protect the family.

T
he warmth of summer gave way to an early fall, and Lia felt her body stretch to tremendous proportions. Dr. Prescott arrived for a short stay each month, primarily to visit with Lia and Lady Sewell, but also to do some shooting with her husband. The physician was pleased by her continued good health, which also pleased her husband of course. And, at each visit Ren made certain that Prescott left with a basket of cook’s fruit tarts.

Approaching her seventh month, Lia was now restricted to the house and the formal gardens which were closest to the home. Prescott explained to her his reasons for wishing this, which she understood, even though she disagreed. She’d already spent most of the past five months close to home or indoors and unable to travel. Her husband agreed with the doctor, saying he wanted to make sure his wife and unborn child were safe.

So she filled her days by teaching Luchino and Sarah reading and writing, geography and mathematics. Even little Sarah, now five years of age, was beginning to add and subtract. Lia did this by making learning fun for the children, creating games for them.

When she wasn’t giving the children lessons, she was doing her needlework. Once the baby’s gowns and napkins were completed, she began embroidering the Caversham coat of arms to be hung in the nursery.

Her sister-in-law spent a great deal of time, indeed most of every day, out of doors. Even when it rained, she worked on her project, spending time in the library making notes in ledgers, and creating charts for creating a new bloodline of horses. This was not normally something considered appropriate for a young, unmarried lady, but Ren seemed to think prohibiting her outright would only serve to have her do it behind his back. Her husband said he’d prefer Elise be supervised by himself or their head groom, rather than have her work at her project clandestinely. Because he felt her idea had merit, and he didn’t want Elise getting hurt, he made sure she was always accompanied by qualified grooms who could assist.

Lia had hoped that as time passed Elise would warm to her, if not becoming a friend, at least not continuing with the indifference toward her. When in the company of her brother or grandmother, she was the epitome of kindness and propriety. But when left alone, she completely ignored Lia, a couple of times even walking away when Lia had asked a question of her, as though she wasn’t even in the same room.

This was not something with which she wanted to burden her husband. Lia knew she had to give Elise time to become accustomed to the idea of having another woman in the house, one who by law and in the eyes of the church was now mistress of the younger woman’s childhood home.

Perhaps the birth of her brother’s child would be the catalyst to bring them together. Lia hoped so, for her sister-in-law’s sake. She realized after her own parents’ sudden deaths that life was too short to waste time in enmity.

Her husband’s grandmother, Lady Sewell, on the other hand, was a delightful conversationalist, once Lia became familiar with the woman’s strange accent. Lady Sewell was also a fair chess opponent. The older woman taught her and Luchino to play whist, a game which she had a difficult time mastering, and backgammon, which Lia became proficient at during the course of one evening. Lady Sewell led her on walks through each of the gardens she’d restored.