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eBook Category: Romance/Historical Fiction
eBook Description: When her father sells her into marriage, Liana Bellingham is beside herself with rage. She's also stranded on a ship with her husband aboard. As a storm at sea causes the ship to go down, Liana survives along with Raiden de Louve, her husband, and though survival is foremost on their mind, and she is thankful for his "Island heritage" and versatile skill, which enables him to keep them alive after they reach a deserted Island, it is the passion, the lure of his kiss, the over all exotic man, which steal her heart and soul.

eBook Publisher: Alinar Publishing, Published: 2007, 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2007

70 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [393 KB], eReader (PDB) [112 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [90 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [81 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [142 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [147 KB], hiebook (KML) [249 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [157 KB], iSilo (PDB) [74 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [93 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [152 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [126 KB]
Words: 28308
Reading time: 80-113 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1-906023-30-1 978-1-906023-30-0

This is the third novella (The Fox and Winter Heart) I have read by Gayle Eden (pen name of Eve Asbury) and have enjoyed all. Liana has led a selfless existence providing for her wastrel father, married at fifteen and widowed a year later. As a widow, she again takes on the responsibility of her father until he forces her marriage to a stranger to pay his debts. The story begins as she meets her husband aboard ship when a terrible storm strands the newlyweds on a deserted island. Even though the romance is a bit erotic, the survival skills and developing relationship/romance make for a book worth reading. -Frances Boyle, Fictionwise Recommender

"I would not wed that man, were he the last one on earth!" Liana Bellingham hissed at her father as they stood on the deck of The Adventurer.

"Well, you are wed to him--by proxy. And I've lost the money he paid for you. There's no getting it back, and I ain't going to Newgate for your stupid pride."

"My pride!" Her opal eyes widened. "Are you completely mad? I have done nothing but pay for your weaknesses from the time I was fifteen years old! I wed a man twice my age because you said I must, and when he did die and leave me a few pounds, you wheedled that out of me too. No. I do not care what notes or vows or anything else you've signed. I--"

"'Twas done last eve, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"It's not legal I tell you. I did not consent."

"The proxy did."

"Father, please," her voice was raw with anger and desperation. "I am twenty three years old. You promised me, swore to me, when mother died, that you would change your ways."

"I have."

She snorted.

"Listen, Liana ... you've got to honor this. I cannot pay him back."

She groaned. "I should let you rot in Newgate. At least then I would have my own life."

"Wha ... that's a sin. You sh--"

"Don't you lecture me about sins." She pushed back her hood as the wind kept tugging it and squinted as it picked up speed snatching the pins from her wine-red hair. "I cannot believe you have done this. I should have never stepped aboard this ship with you."

She looked at George Bellingham, unkempt, unshaven and eyes bloodshot. He had done little in her lifetime but go from tavern to tavern, gaming hell to brothel. He cared not a whit about her personally. She wished she could not care about him either. Unfortunately, she kept giving him chances, hoping that he would change and really love her, be a father. But this last trick proved nothing had changed, that he would always be as he was now.

Bloody hell. He had married her off! Liana hissed, "Are you telling me the man stood with a proxy bride and said his vows?"

"He did."

"God!" She leaned her head back and yelled, "This cannot be lawful. I am too old for you to have any legal rights over me."

"We're aboard ship, and there were several witnesses. He had a lawyer draw up papers and paid all my debts..."

She lowered her head looking at him as if he were dense. Unfortunately he was shrewd, sly as a fox. "I'll have it annulled."

"You can't. The man's a Count for God sakes, Liana. His family owns half of England and France ... part of Scotland too."

"I doubt that." She snorted. "He looked the bloody pirate to me."

"That's because he's foreign."

"Foreign? Make up your mind, father, either he owns--"

"I mean his mother was," he snapped. "She was from some Island ... Jamaica or Barbados..."

"Wonderful." Liana sneered and then laughed helpless. "Christ. I'm in a nightmare..."

Her father had been lighting his pipe and looked up at the billowing clouds. "Best go below now, daughter ... A storm is brewing."

She too saw the dark, gray clouds with almost black edges. "Perhaps I will stand here and be struck by lightening."

At that very moment a sizzling bolt of white heat split the heavens.

George screamed and jumped back from the rail.

Liana had too, but muttered to God, "What have I done? It's him you should be angry with."

"Liana! Get below." George tugged her arm.

Hearing the loud hiss of a heavy downpour she dashed to the stairs, leading down to the cabins. The thunder boomed behind her. Passengers were scurrying every which way. She tried to grab her father, who was headed for the dining salon. "You don't need whiskey now. The seas will be rough and you'll be sick."

He sniffed and hiked up his velvet breeches. "I can see to myself. You got a husband to attend."

"Go on." She moved out of the way for a matron who looked green already. "But don't blame me if you're sick all night." She was jostled and bumped as the choppy sea heaved the ship. Passengers exited the salon and cabins to lock tight in their own. Liana could see through the porthole that it was nearly pitch dark, and walls of icy rain were now blowing in gales and gusts of wind, there was groans and curses already while the storm picked up force.

At the end of the hall, in the process of opening her door, the ship pitched sharply and threw her off balance, sending her back against a masculine frame, as the man stepped out his own cabin door across from hers.

"Umpf!" She nearly went to her knees before his strong hands caught hold of her.

"Steady."

Liana tried to wrench away hearing that all too familiar voice. Unfortunately the tilt of the ship had her back plastered against his front. She muttered a few choice curses and looked up into a bronze face with smoke gray eyes that seemed to be waiting for that moment.

"If you will shut your bloody door, I can steady myself on my own."

His sensual mouth curved slightly. "I'm much more reliable than a wooden door."

She snorted and ignored once more that flip in her stomach when she viewed him. High, broad cheekbones, flared nostrils and deep set eyes. He was a tall man, around six feet five and honed muscle under those lawn shirt and black breeches. His hair was raven and hugged his head in s-shaped curls. He also had a ruby in his left ear, and a tribal marking under his eye, as well as on the side of his neck. Anywhere else he was marked, she did not know. But he'd been displaying that body in snug leather breeches and white shirts since he'd boarded the ship. Every time she was at the railing taking air, he made a point of standing within her sight.

When he did speak to her, it was usually some daringly male observation, his way of complementing her, she supposed, in that deep resonant voice of his. Oh yes, he certainly made no secret he wanted her attention. But to have purchased her--wed her!

"Your eyes are like heather," he murmured, his booted feet braced and seeming to take the roll and pitch of the vessel with ease.

"They're opal." She grit, trying to move his hands from her rib cage. "Really, you do not have to hold me. I am quite capable, o--"

"I want to hold you, Liana."

She shivered at that soft admission. "Look, I know what my father did. I realize that he duped you into paying for his debts, but it is not legal. I assure you, I gave no such consent and that he--" The ship heaved in the opposite direction, and her words were cut off. The man holding her had almost wrapped his body around hers, pinning her to the facing and bracing her with his bulk.

"This is not necessary!" She said against his chest.

"Don't be foolish," he said mildly. "It appears that we are caught in a bad storm. I shouldn't like it if my bride broke a few bones before the wedding night."

Liana pushed at him, and then had to grab hold of him, as the ship seemed to spin around. Now--she was afraid. "I'm not your bride, and there will be no wedding night."

He shifted and cushioned her as the vessel dipped. "You want me. You have been following me with those lavender eyes for weeks."

"Of all the arrogant--," she ground her teeth. "I have not been..."

"Lusting?" he supplied.

"No. Nor anything else for you. I have suffered your rude comments and--"

"Compliments, my dear. I assure you." He grunted as the ship heaved and muttered, "We are in for it. This is no small squall."

Liana peeked up at him. "What do you mean?"

He gazed at her, all teasing gone, his face taut as the violent storm outside which could be heard in the silence. "I have sailed enough ships on my own to know a perilous storm when I feel one."

Liana knew her eyes were wide. "Are you saying we are in real danger?"

He seemed to debate a moment, then nodded. "I have complete confidence in this captain and crew, but not even the best can control the forces of nature."

Wetting her lips she turned her head to peer into his dark cabin. "What shall we do?"

"Nothing to do, but anchor yourself and ride it out. I did observe that you were a good sailor."

She glanced at him wryly. "My father once owned a few fishing vessels, before he lost them at cards."

"Ah." His eyes moved over her face. "I'm glad my wife has her sea legs."

"Don't start that."

"By the way," he ignored her. "You're the Countess de Louve."

"I'm--" she grasped his shirt and they both staggered a few steps at the next roll of the ship.

He moved into the cabin with a firm hold on her, cursing when the porthole revealed nothing but angry churning water. "Sit on the bunk and hold tight."

She did, simply because there was no standing up without being thrown about. "I should go find my father."

"He is likely in the salon."

"--Getting sotted," she finished.

He sat down beside her and shrugged. "It is one way to suffer the storm."

For a few long moments Liana merely hung onto the edge of the bunk, listening to the frightening sounds of the tempest. In spite of her boast, her stomach felt the effects of the rolls and pitches. The angry churn was either throwing her into his shoulder, or forcing her in the opposite direction.

After several dives and dips, that had few seconds between, she began to sense the fear crawling over her skin. To cover it she said, "We are not legally wed."

"I have the papers. I promise you, we are."

She glanced at his face. "Why would you want an unwilling bride?"

"I want you." He held her gaze. "Since you have rebuffed my attempts at conversation, and you seem adverse to courtship, I figured that marrying you first might do the trick."

"Are you serious?" She gaped at him. "That is a stupid reason to do something so--well--serious as get married. You're titled for Christ sakes. Isn't there a debutante or something you--"

"No deb would wed me, no matter how wealthy, or what title I hold."

She stared at him, her brow raised.

He smiled somewhat bitterly. "It is not just my mixed blood, but my father murdered my mother."

She swallowed. "What!"

He supplied, "It's a long story. I'll tell you when it matters."

"It bloody well does now," she hissed at him. "You can't say something like that so calmly, and not explain."

He laughed then. "Ah, Liana. I like your spirit. Do you know, I have watched you with your father? A man who would try the patience of a saint and cheat a monk. You are very much like a mother with a naughty child--exasperated."

"He is my only kin, and no, I am not generally amused by his poor luck and hair brained schemes. It is more often, that I am left to suffer for them. I am particularly disgusted that you, obviously aware he is weak, took advantage of that."

"To have you," he filled in. "I imagine it will be a relief to have your own life, and no longer be under his guidance."

"The both of you imagine quite a bit," she said tartly. "I view what you did as no better or different from him. I've no intention of honoring something I wasn't consulted on. And--likely you want me because I have not fallen at your feet as half a dozen other females aboard have."

"There is the challenge." His white teeth flashed.

Liana rolled her eyes, then found herself thrown back on the bed. Then, by force of the waves she was tossed to the side. "This is becoming quite annoying," she said breathlessly grabbing a hold of the headboard.

"Brave, girl," he murmured, having reached out to steady her. "You are doing very well."

"Thank you." Her tone was sarcastic but she swallowed a lump of fear as the timbers creaked and groaned, as if the wood was being twisted. "Are you sure you could not steer this vessel a bit better?"

"Sorry, no." He scooted back until he sat up in the bed beside her, letting his bulk wedge her in between the headboard and wall. "You can rail at me some more. That should be distracting enough."

Liana looked at him. With little light in the cabin she could just make out his silver eyes, and the shadows of his bone structure. He really was quite a striking man in an exotic way. There was no question but that he was compelling in a virile. She had not been wed but a year to her elder husband--a clerk in Yorkshire, but that did not mean she couldn't tell the difference between him and this one.

"My God," she suddenly gasped ... "I don't even know your first name."

"Raiden. Raiden de Louve." He leaned his head back against the headboard. "And you are Liana Elise Bellingham. You did not keep your first husband's name."

"He told you that?"

"Yes. Whilst you have ignored me at every turn, your father has been more than happy to pour out his woes every night in the salon."

"His woes?" she choked.

"No matter how he phrased it, any fool could deduce that he's used you for his own ends. To hear him tell it, he's been trying to find you a husband better than poor Paul for several years."

"I was stupid enough to believe he'd go to prison if I did not wed him. I was bloody fifteen years old. The only mercy in that little arrangement, was that he died in time to leave a few coins that covered another of father's debts." She added firmly, "He has been trying ever since to find me a replacement, but I am wiser now. I know his weaknesses and his games."

"You'll like being wed to me."

Liana felt that husky promise from her head to her toes. "How arrogant of you to say so."

He laughed. "Not arrogance, my dear. Simply an assurance." The hand holding her steady flexed. "A woman such as yourself should not be wasting her life being manipulated by a man like your father. Believe me, I know there are un-natural parents, that we have the poor luck of being born to. You deserve much better."

"That being you?" She snorted. "I see no difference in you and him."

"You will. I am much more indulgent where it matters most. And I will spoil you most delightfully."

"No thanks. That is where father and I are opposite. I do not sell myself for material objects."

He slid his hand up her spine. "I wasn't particularly speaking of that, but you will not want for anything."

Fire tingled behind that touch and Liana put it down to nerves and fear. When the ship rose and nearly flattened her against the wall she whispered, "Could we die out here?"

He reached out and righted her, leaving his warm palm on her cheek. "I hope not. I have waited thirty-five years to take a wife. I should like to enjoy the experience for at least that long."

She had both nostrils full of his scent of spice, and some tropic aroma. "I'm afraid my bravery has reached its limit," her tone was unsteady. "I have never been on a vessel in such rough seas."

He leaned toward her, bringing the shadow of his face very close. "Then I shall distract you."

Liana had her mouth open to reply, when the feel of his warm, velvet, lips touched hers.

She gasped at the tingle as his tongue lightly traced her bottom lip.

Against them, he murmured, "You taste as sweet as I imagined." He slanted his head and this time delved in for a taste. Not giving her time to react. He rubbed his mouth over hers lightly and husked, "Pink, like a rose pedal."

Trembling now from the husk of his voice, the erotic feel of his kiss, Liana did forget the storm for a moment, particularly when she was kissed again, this time, full out and unlike any she'd imagined.

His mouth opened and his tongue slid deep, stroking the inside and rolling under her tongue. She lifted it, and when he delved under, a soft moan came from her throat.

The inside of his felt velvety, mysterious. His taste was sensually masculine.

Her head swam. Points of light flickered behind her lids. Every caress of his tongue across hers shot a hot sensation to the tips of her breasts and below ... between her legs. He slid his hand to her shoulder when they were forced apart by the roll of the ship again.

She needed that to bring her back to her senses. She gasped rather ineffectually, "Are you daft? We're possibly going to drown out here and you're ... you're..."

"Kissing you?" he quipped.

"That was more than a kiss," she muttered--More than she'd felt with a husband she'd given her virtue to. A tinge of guilt and revulsion waved over her. She'd cried for days realizing her fate back then, suffered through half that year before Paul grew ill, having to serve her duty and him and having to suffer through insensitive rutting.

"Are you really worried about your father?"

"Yes. Don't pretend to care what I think now," Liana grated. "Or what I feel."

"You do have a tongue on you." He laughed, then murmured, "But deliciously sweet where it counts."

"Do shut up," she uttered through grit teeth. The whole vessel shuddered and the echo of screams could be heard throughout.

"If you can hang on by yourself, I'll try and make it to the salon. Though, you know Liana, he is likely not the least be concerned about you."

"I know. But he's my father."

He folded her fingers tightly over the headboard, coaxing her to the furthest corner.

"Hold there, sweet." He bussed her cheek. "Your loyalty, though misplaced, is one of the reasons I chose you."

Liana was still muttering as he left. But as soon as he did, she put her head between her arms and prayed, "Oh God, don't let me die. I'm sorry I detested Paul. Sorry I felt relieved when he died. Sorry I committed any offence." She sucked in a deep breath. "Since I can't lie to you, just forgive me for everything and..."

"He's passed out, locked himself in a cabinet, and oblivious." Raiden sat back down on the bed. He reached out and touched her arm. "I should tell you, it does not look good. The captain was honest enough about that."

Sick to her stomach, Liana felt a clammy sweat break over her skin, under the bright yellow day gown she wore.

"I have come through worse..."

She grunted. "What is worse than dying in a ship wreck, pray tell?"

"There is worse," he said simply, then, "Tell me, have you ever thought of what you'd like to have done before you died?"

"Must you be so ... morbid? No, I have not, and I did not intend to have to think of it before nature took its course and old age or disease took me."

"We could be making love."

"Is that all you think about? Honestly, you're insane." She shuddered. "We're going to die and he's talking about sex." she said to no one.

He pried her hands off the headboard. "You've had a rough life, my girl. A feckless father, wed to an old man when you were too young to do anything about it. These last years, to hear your father talk, you've gotten him out of one scrape after another, and did whatever you could to pay his debts, dragged him home from places no lady should have to enter."

That was all true, and it surprised her that he'd sifted through her father's talk and gleaned that. Most believed George's ramblings. In any case, she wasn't going to die feeling self-pity. "I wept when it mattered, though it rarely helped, in fact I deduced that crying solves nothing and changes nothing. I would just as soon go out of this world with some dignity."

"How about with comfort? Strong arms to hold you, the feel of a heartbeat and holding to someone who feels something for you."

Damn him. Her eyes were stinging. "You care nothing about me, beyond my body."

"Not true. Your body is enticing I admit. The first time I saw you with that wine-red hair half-piled up and half blown lose by the breeze I was mesmerized. Your skin is pearlesque in the sunlight, did you know that? Then I spoke to you and you turned to look at me ... those eyes, love. A man could enjoy looking into them up close."

She tried to resist when he repositioned her, but soon found that lying on her back against the wall, with him on his side facing her kept her from at least being flung. Besides, her arms were strained and hurting. She wanted to close her ears to the chaos outside, to pretend she could not hear the violent storm and screaming wind--to not hear the sounds of sobbing, screaming and praying.

He went on, murmuring under the nightmare, "I have had many women. That is not a boast, merely assuring you that I did have the chance to wed a half dozen merchant's daughters and a few dozen princesses."

"Princesses?"

"On the islands. Tribal," he clarified and added, "I wanted you when I laid eyes on you. You were prickly and I think, a bit intimidated."

"Of all the arrogant--"

Many can overlook the heritage but not the markings and..."

"You're bloody six foot five and built like a gladiator. I should think that sufficient enough to give a woman pause. And you go out of your way to draw attention to that heritage, so don't bother telling me that--is a burden. You look like no other man. You try hard not to."

"As I was saying," he sounded amused. "My courting skills are a bit rusty. I have long been in relationships that, shall we say, don't require it."

"I can imagine."

"And when you refused, I watched you, trying to figure you out and attempting to discover a way to my goal."

"Just like a man--"

"Your father was it. He played cards every night, well, most of the day too, and lost heavily. He liked his whiskey, so it was a matter of doing what I had to, getting him to talk, which was fairly easy, and then taking action." He reached out in the dark and touched her hair. "Don't take it so negatively, sweet. I have never gone to so much trouble to get what I want."

"You still don't have it."

"Yes, well, I am willing to do the wooing properly should you relent. If it is the legalities that bother you, then we shall re-do the whole thing."

She moved his hand, then winced as a pin caught and pulled. She muttered and felt blindly for the rest that held up her shoulder-length locks. "If we survive this storm, you have done little but reinforce my first impression of you. You have the arrogance of a peacock, the apparent sexual appetites of a dog, and the--"

"Oh, sweet." He chuckled deeply. "You really must not mock my confessions. I am trying dammably hard to prove to you how far I did go to have you."

"I'm aware of how far. I'm apparently married to you." She tossed the pins over him and to the floor.

On a downward heave he steadied her. Liana moaned in fear when surging upwards, the sound of water flooding the room could be heard. She clutched at his forearm, her nails biting. The loudly ringing alarm bells followed shouts from the crew.

"Raiden!"

"It appears they're abandoning the ship." He gathered her close and murmured, "They will go by sections, women and children first. I'll get you topside."

She could hear sobbing and shrieking children. "How many do you think the boats will hold?"

"Not enough," he sighed tensely, and sat up. "Come, sweet." She sat up, moving across the bed in inches, because of the sway and jolts. She gasped feeling the cold seawater on the floor that soaked her slippers.

"Liana?"

"Yes?" Her throat was tight with panic.

"One kiss." He had turned and cupped her head in his hands, kissing her quite hungrily, deeply, as if to drink her taste and remember it.

Breathless when he pulled inches away, Liana whispered, "Even if I am put in the boat ... I'm likely to die, aren't I?"

"Your chances are as good as anyone else."

"Don't lie to me." She covered his hands. "Please."

His thumbs stroked her face. In gruff tones he supplied, "It's in God's hands."

She gulped in a breath. He slid his arm around her to get her to the door. She said in trembling tones. "I can't stand this. You're going to stay on board and die."

"Hush. Take it moment by moment. You are a brave woman, Liana. Don't let the fear control you."

At the doorway, they were forced to stand still while wailing and shoving passengers filed past, many with children and a few elderly. Liana looked up at the shadowed face.

"I wanted you ... I have never been kissed like that before. I never felt that. I--I did not like what you did, what my father did, but I could have wanted you."

He turned his back against the facing, holding her to him. "Thank you for that, sweet."

His head dipped and there was a tremble in both their frames as he kissed her.

He did not kiss fast and urgent, not at all like she'd expect when the situation was so dire. The touch of his lips was slow, the spread of them gradual. When his tongue was inside, fear and dread dissipated for the heartbeats that passed.

He caressed, stroked, with each movement of his head, like warmest honey flowing into her mouth.

The kiss went on as the vibration of running feet and chaos of a panicked mass joined the horrific sounds of flooding. Liana felt the water rise from her slippers to her calves, icy and sharp. But for those moments, she experienced the first taste of desire, the first surge of longing, and for the first time in her life--ironically near death--she felt alive.

His breathing was hot, harsh when he lifted his head. Holding her against him so that she heard the thunder of his heartbeat under that lawn shirt.

"Don't go topside," she whispered gruffly. "It's too dangerous. I'll go alone."

She could tell that the way was clear to the stairs. Nothing but ocean poured down. No human sound at all.

His hand cupped the back of her head. There was something terrible in his voice when a massive wave hit and the water reached their knees. "There is no topside, love. Forgive me, I lied. I knew there would be no room for you..."

Her eyes squeezed shut. She felt the ship spinning right and leaning on its side. Her arms wrapped hard around him. Her body completely overtaken by trembling.

"Oh, God. Don't let me die alone! Don't let go of me."

"I won't ... I won't." His arms tightened and she heard a sound in his throat.

"Let there be a heaven," she murmured while tears ran down her face and onto his shirt. "Let God be merciful--and let this be swift for us both."

"Liana." It was a raw sound. He bent his knees and said roughly in her ear, "Your father told me that you owned a little flower shop once, what was it called?"

"The Rosebower."

"And your pet, the mutt that was always chewing up his slippers?"

She laughed on a sob as they were flung to their knees. "Pepper," she gasped at the chill and coldness, fighting panic. "He loved pepper."

He was struggling, trying to right them. "And you're favorite hat, the one that he grumbled over the cost."

Clinging to him, trying to help steady them both and feeling her soaked gown, she managed, "Straw with a wide brim and ribbons ... blue ones."

"When you were in Nottingham ... you had a pony." He shifted his hold, his clothing wet too.

Pitch-blackness met her eyes as she said, "Palo..." And then the ship heaved, slamming her backwards and his weight to her front.

She cried out. Her back struck the door, and they broke apart, falling to their sides.

Groping in the deep water she screamed, "Raiden."

"I'm here!" his hand found hers and he waded close.

"It's so cold ... so black."

They both heard the groan of wood and the tumultuous boom. It seemed that the vessel was rolling. The tension building in the structure was palatable.

Liana was on her knees, Raiden behind her, trying to hold her steady when the tension reached its peak. Her scream rent the air, long and piercing. The pressure burst forth.

All she could feel was a force--pushing her up, out of the ship--into the angry ocean.

She was tossed higher, violently rasped by a surge so cold, it ached like a thousand needles raking over her skin.

Liana's last impression was her body swirling amid the debris and wreckage.