Read Online Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) by Sandy Raven - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandy Raven
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is a local peasant farmer who didn’t beat her. I ask you, who came out ahead?”
Lia wished she were as strong as her friend. The two women sat in silence for awhile. Then Maysun stood, holding out a hand to her. “We, my friend, have a big day ahead of us,” she said, then began telling Lia of the preparations to be done before their dinner.
T he two women followed a servant to the palace’s enormous main courtyard. There they waited near the fountain for the prince and his guest to arrive. Lia gazed in awe at the intricate lace-like patterns carved into the stucco walls and arches. Mosaic tiling in greens, blues and black were arranged in fine geometric patterns on the floor throughout the entire courtyard.
In the center of the outdoor garden stood a massive triple-tiered marble water fountain. The large round base caught the water that cascaded over the edges of the two smaller sections above it, and the top section had a plume of water spraying upward out of its center.
“I thought the courtyard in the harim was the most beautiful I had ever seen,” Lia said in an awed whisper. “Until now.”
“When I first came here, I thought surely this was heaven,” Maysun replied, “for only God would have a garden such as this.”
Lia dipped her hand into the cool water, cupping some, then letting it trickle through her fingers into the immense marble basin at her feet. She heard footsteps echoing in the courtyard and suddenly became frightened at what was about to take place. Her heart beat faster, and she took a deep, calming breath before she lifted her gaze.
When she did, she saw two men approaching. Prince Hakim was easily recognized, wearing a purple and gold kaftan with a bejeweled gold turban. Dark, handsome, and lean of build, his white teeth gleamed through his genuine smile.
The man with him was slightly taller than the prince, but much larger in build. Casually dressed, he wore European style men’s clothing under a gold, sleeveless banyan, with no waistcoat or cravat. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing tanned skin and a sprinkling of fine black hairs. He wore no turban, so he wasn’t Muslim. Nor Arabic either, as his skin did not have the dusky tone of the Arabs. The only feature he had in common with the men of this country was the black hair.
“Lower your eyes!” Maysun hissed. “We are not to look upon the prince until he addresses us.”
Lia obeyed, standing still, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. As the men drew nearer, she saw that the second man had big feet, and that his tall black boots shone to perfection, fitting his well-formed calves like a glove. Her eyes darted upward, as far as his chest, where his pristine white linen shirt parted in an unbuttoned V. She glanced at the light dusting of dark curls which sprung out from above the opening. She lowered her eyes quickly, afraid of the consequences of being caught.
The two men continued their conversation in hushed tones. In English, she noted. While she waited to be spoken to, Lia cautiously continued her examination of this man’s lower body. With bowed head, she allowed her eyes to take in his buff-colored breeches which hugged massive, muscular thighs. Above that.... Lia turned away, afraid of being caught inspecting the man who was perhaps her new master.
Not until arriving at Ashraf’s compound, where she began her education in the art of pleasure, had she been forced to notice this part of the male physique. She supposed it was because she had always been allowed to look a man in the eye, and hadn’t been forced to spend so much time looking below his waist. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her mind to other, much safer topics, such as the wonderful weather and the gentle sound of the water as it cascaded down the glorious fountain.
Ren walked with Hakim across the courtyard, and noticed the two women standing on the opposite side of the fountain. One woman had her dark hair
Lia wished she were as strong as her friend. The two women sat in silence for awhile. Then Maysun stood, holding out a hand to her. “We, my friend, have a big day ahead of us,” she said, then began telling Lia of the preparations to be done before their dinner.
T he two women followed a servant to the palace’s enormous main courtyard. There they waited near the fountain for the prince and his guest to arrive. Lia gazed in awe at the intricate lace-like patterns carved into the stucco walls and arches. Mosaic tiling in greens, blues and black were arranged in fine geometric patterns on the floor throughout the entire courtyard.
In the center of the outdoor garden stood a massive triple-tiered marble water fountain. The large round base caught the water that cascaded over the edges of the two smaller sections above it, and the top section had a plume of water spraying upward out of its center.
“I thought the courtyard in the harim was the most beautiful I had ever seen,” Lia said in an awed whisper. “Until now.”
“When I first came here, I thought surely this was heaven,” Maysun replied, “for only God would have a garden such as this.”
Lia dipped her hand into the cool water, cupping some, then letting it trickle through her fingers into the immense marble basin at her feet. She heard footsteps echoing in the courtyard and suddenly became frightened at what was about to take place. Her heart beat faster, and she took a deep, calming breath before she lifted her gaze.
When she did, she saw two men approaching. Prince Hakim was easily recognized, wearing a purple and gold kaftan with a bejeweled gold turban. Dark, handsome, and lean of build, his white teeth gleamed through his genuine smile.
The man with him was slightly taller than the prince, but much larger in build. Casually dressed, he wore European style men’s clothing under a gold, sleeveless banyan, with no waistcoat or cravat. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing tanned skin and a sprinkling of fine black hairs. He wore no turban, so he wasn’t Muslim. Nor Arabic either, as his skin did not have the dusky tone of the Arabs. The only feature he had in common with the men of this country was the black hair.
“Lower your eyes!” Maysun hissed. “We are not to look upon the prince until he addresses us.”
Lia obeyed, standing still, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. As the men drew nearer, she saw that the second man had big feet, and that his tall black boots shone to perfection, fitting his well-formed calves like a glove. Her eyes darted upward, as far as his chest, where his pristine white linen shirt parted in an unbuttoned V. She glanced at the light dusting of dark curls which sprung out from above the opening. She lowered her eyes quickly, afraid of the consequences of being caught.
The two men continued their conversation in hushed tones. In English, she noted. While she waited to be spoken to, Lia cautiously continued her examination of this man’s lower body. With bowed head, she allowed her eyes to take in his buff-colored breeches which hugged massive, muscular thighs. Above that.... Lia turned away, afraid of being caught inspecting the man who was perhaps her new master.
Not until arriving at Ashraf’s compound, where she began her education in the art of pleasure, had she been forced to notice this part of the male physique. She supposed it was because she had always been allowed to look a man in the eye, and hadn’t been forced to spend so much time looking below his waist. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her mind to other, much safer topics, such as the wonderful weather and the gentle sound of the water as it cascaded down the glorious fountain.
Ren walked with Hakim across the courtyard, and noticed the two women standing on the opposite side of the fountain. One woman had her dark hair
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