Becoming Lady Thomas (Becoming Her Book 1) Page 2

  His words give me hope, and I reach a hand toward him. He takes it and brings my knuckles to his lips, kissing them chastely.

  “Yes, Father. The tuition can’t be that much,” I agree.

  Father’s eyes flit over to Edith who purses her lips together but nods.

  “You see, Lissa, our father has acquired more loans than that of university tuition,” Edith explains. “In an effort to recover the monies quickly, he placed some rather large bets and lost. The amount of money our father owes Lord Thomas is ridiculous. He’ll never be able to repay it in his lifetime.”

  I frown, but William explodes. He bursts from his chair and swipes his dishes onto the floor. Glass shatters everywhere, and I stare at him in horror. We gasp in surprise as he stalks over to our father and grabs him by the lapels on his suit.

  “Listen here, Franklin. Elisabeth will be my wife no matter what. So do what you have to do to get that prick to choose Edith. If you allow my Lissa to go with him, so help me, I’ll kill you with my bare two hands.”

  This time, I fling myself from my chair and over to them. “William, stop it! Right this instant. We’ll make this right, but killing my father is ignorant. Now, come with me. You need to cool off. We’ll take a walk.”

  He sends one more hate-filled look toward my father before he releases him. I’ve almost managed to pull him to the door before he turns and points a finger at him.

  “Make sure it’s Edith he chooses, because if he doesn’t and he chooses the woman I’m in love with, I will make good on my promise to take your life.”

  I CLOSE MY EYES AND the portrait from the parlor instantly materializes. I’ve been obsessing over her for six goddamned weeks. Ever since I stepped into the home of Franklin Merriweather, hell-bent on taking everything he owns for repayment, I’ve been fixated on her.

  The one with eyes as green as the grass on a warm summer day.

  The one with a tiny smile that seems to hide secrets—secrets I want to know.

  “Lord Thomas,” my butler Gerald calls out from the doorway of my study, “shall I pack the coach for your travels this evening?”

  As much as I want to steal away to go claim my prize, I know I mustn’t be so hasty. Good things come to those who wait. And she will be worth the wait—this much I know as fact.

  “No, Gerald. Please, get some rest. I’m about to retire as well. We’ll set off at daybreak. I want my fiancée tucked away in her suite by this time tomorrow,” I sigh with reluctance.

  He nods and closes the door behind him.

  Burying my face in my palms, I once again recall the portrait. Franklin Merriweather may not be very proficient in gambling, but the man has excellent genes. Those girls, a perfect mix between their mother and father, are all beautiful in their own right.

  But only one caught my attention. In the portrait, she was no more than fourteen years of age. I know now that she’s most certainly of age. And even if she weren’t, I’d take her anyway. Images of her naked, lying on my velvet duvet, flood my mind, and I feel my cock begin to thicken with desire.

  How many times will I have to find release with my hand until she’s the one I’m sunk deep inside of?

  Soon after Mr. Merriweather and I signed our deal, I took solace in those of local prostitutes. Each one was paid well to please me. Each one was chosen because of their crimson locks. But none were able to satisfy me. As I fucked them hard, all the while pretending it was her, I knew I would never be satisfied.

  That is, until I have my prize.

  Her father revealed to me that she was a virgin. I had to excuse myself from his presence to get my cock to settle after his proclamation. To take such a vision’s innocence thrilled me beyond repair.

  The woman has mangled my mind with her coy smile and scarlet locks. It’s only fair I mangle her innocence as well. My cock is as hard as my mahogany desk from just thinking about her tight body ripe for my taking. After unfastening my trousers, I slide my hand into my drawers and fist my length.

  Again, she’s forefront in my mind as I stroke myself. My God, how will I control myself around her when I finally do have her? I know it won’t be easy for her to accept the arrangement her father and I have agreed upon. It doesn’t make it any less binding though. She’ll be my wife and I’ll feast upon her perfect body whenever I shall so please.

  She’s almost mine.

  “Elisabeth,” I groan out as thick, ropy spurts of my climax wet my pants. I’m sure Gretchen, my housekeeper, loves washing my soiled trousers each day. But I pay her well, so she never so much as gives me a sideways glance.

  They’re all under my thumb. Funny how powerful wealth can make a person. The things it makes people do.

  This time tomorrow, I shall set to seducing the woman of my literal dreams. She won’t be Elisabeth Merriweather for long. Soon, she will be mine.

  Lady Thomas.

  “LISSA, HOW DO I LOOK?” Edith questions as she spins around in her cream-colored petticoat. She’s every bit an angel sent from Heaven.

  Lord Thomas would be a fool not to choose her. I can see that she’s spent many hours perfecting her makeup while I spent the morning with William.

  My poor love. It took some time to cool him off yesterday. But after a long walk and an afternoon spent kissing and cuddling in our barn, he finally relaxed. He didn’t pressure me to make love but, instead, enjoyed his time simply being with me. It was perfection. And this morning, we had breakfast with his parents.

  That, however, did not go as planned.

  According to them, our whole township is on hard times. Their savings has been depleted, and therefore, they cannot help our cause.

  My William, though, devised a new plan—to make me less desirable than that of my two sisters. He instructed me to not wear makeup and to choose one of my simple frocks I sometimes wear when working in our field. I was told to not wear jewelry, aside from the bracelet he gave to me, or perfume.

  He wanted me simple.

  So now, as I gush over my older sister, I can’t help but glimpse at my own reflection. I’ve pulled my hair into a tight bun and affixed a frown on my face. Compared to Edith, I’m a moth. An utter mule in comparison to her thoroughbred appearance. Her dark hair has been curled into tight kinks that hang down her back, which lies open due to the daring design of her dress. If I were a man, I would most certainly choose her.

  “Father is waiting in the parlor,” Ella murmurs from the doorway. “He sent me to fetch you both. Lord Thomas is here as well.”

  When I turn to regard my younger sister, fear seizes me. She’s spent some time dolling herself up as well. It worries me that she appears to be more than that of her seventeen years. What happens should he choose her instead of Edith? The thought sickens me.

  “You look much older than your age,” I chide as I rush over to her.

  Her lips form a pout when I set to braiding her long, blond hair. I want her to appear to be more childlike than she does at the moment. Ella has a chance at a normal life, and I won’t allow her to be thrown out with the rubbish.

  “Maybe I want to get married,” she whines, knowing my stance on the matter without my saying anything.

  Shaking my head, I yank the black ribbon from my bun and tie off her braid. “You will, dear sister. Just not to Lord Thomas. This isn’t your debt to settle.”

  She pins me with her blue eyes. “It’s not yours either, Lissa. Nor is it Edie’s. Father did his, and it’s only fair that I’m able to do my part for this family. You’re the one who has a chance at a wonderful life with William. He adores you. That’s where you belong. Not with some debt monster.”

  Tears spill over her cheeks, and I quickly pull my handkerchief from the pocket of my dress to dab at them. Her nose turns red as she cries, and I can’t help but be thankful that it makes her appear younger. Edith is most definitely the one he’ll choose now.

  “Come, girls. Let’s not keep Lord Thomas waiting,” Edith tells us firmly as she leads the way out of the
bedroom.

  Ella sighs but gives me an encouraging smile before following our sister. My heart does this wicked thing where it pounds rapidly in my chest. We’ll get through this. The man will choose Edith and it will all be over.

  I hurry from the room to catch up with my sisters only to find they are already greeting our unwanted guest.

  “Where is your sister?” he asks Edith in a deep timbre. The depth of his gravelly voice sends a quiver of fear pulsating through me.

  “I’m here,” I blurt out as I defiantly lift my chin to meet the eyes of him.

  Him.

  Lord Thomas.

  Chocolate-colored eyes meet mine and my lips part open in surprise. I didn’t expect him to be so . . . so achingly handsome. His overgrown, dark hair is styled on top of his head in such a way that I wonder if he even fixed it at all. My fingers twitch at my sides with a sick longing to touch it. When his eyes fall to my lips, they narrow. In a nervous move, my tongue darts out to moisten them.

  The room spins, and I suddenly wish I’d had a moment to eat something before he’d arrived.

  “You must be the precious Elisabeth,” he greets, his voice a grumble that makes its way into my bloodstream.

  I don’t like that it feels as if he’s infecting me.

  With what?

  Him.

  It makes me dizzy and lightheaded, and the room tilts again as I reach for anything to steady myself on. He takes a step toward me, and in a desperate move, I grab his arm as if it’s an anchor in a turbulent sea.

  “Yes, but if you’ll excuse me, I should go lie down. I’m not feeling well at all,” I whisper, ignoring the warmth radiating from his arm.

  He leans in, and I close my eyes as his scent takes its turn invading me against my will. Unlike William, who smells sweet, this man smells different. His scent is dangerous. Intriguing. Decadent. The way my mouth waters in his presence is further proof of my being ill.

  When my knees buckle, he slips an arm around my back and pulls me against him, and I’m completely lost in him. His chest is hard through his suit.

  “Where is her bed?” he demands.

  Ella answers first, because maybe my father and Edith are shocked at my sudden sickness. “This way.”

  I gasp when he scoops me into his arms and strides effortlessly down the hallway. Once he makes it into the room I share with Ella, he kicks the door closed before striding over to my bed. How he knows that it’s mine is beyond me.

  “I’m sorry to ruin your afternoon, sir, but please rejoin my family. I’ll stay here,” I tell him breathlessly.

  When he releases me, I push away the shudder my body threatens to take at the loss of his touch. Then his gaze finds mine and it’s one of interest, much like how a cat would paw at a dazed mouse. I don’t like that I feel as if I’m his prey.

  “Lord Thomas, please join us for some tea,” Edith chirps as she pokes her head inside the door.

  His attention snaps to her, and I watch as his eyes run down her perfect body before waving her off dismissively. I should feel horrified that he’s turning her away to focus on me, but I can’t help the thrill that surges through me.

  “Go on without me. I’m going to take care of her,” he declares.

  The declaration scares me because I don’t miss the double entendre. Edith nods curtly before closing the door again, leaving me alone with this man. Then his eyes find mine and he grins at me.

  My chest seizes with some unexplainable feeling, and it’s as if I cannot breathe.

  “Elisabeth, what is this you’re wearing? Did you have intentions on fooling me as to not choose you?” he questions with a smirk on his full lips.

  I can’t help but regard them as he says his words. It takes a moment to clear my head before I unwillingly drag my vision away from them to stare at him.

  “I’m wearing a dress. And we both know Edith is the perfect choice,” I assure him.

  He skims his gaze along the naked flesh of my neck and down toward my breasts, which are heaving wildly. I feel as if I’m an animal trapped under his claws and my only way of escape will be if I say the proper words. One false move and I’ll be doomed.

  “I beg to differ.”

  Our eyes meet once again. His look is sharp and unyielding.

  “But she’s so beautiful, and with her education—”

  He interrupts me. “She’s not you.”

  My eyes widen at his words and I sit up on my elbows to glare at him. Anger floods through me. Here I’ve done everything in my power to appear the less favorable choice and he wants me anyway. It’s as if he’s doing it just for the sport of it.

  “Excuse me?” My lips form a firm line as I glower at him.

  “You heard me properly, Elisabeth. It’s you who I want. I made my decision weeks ago. And now—now that I’m in your presence—I’m one hundred percent certain you will be mine.”

  I gape at him in horror. What about William? Our future?

  “No,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  His features become furious. And while they should terrify me, something sinister coils from deep within me. He is even more handsome while angry.

  “No isn’t a word I’m accustomed to hearing. No isn’t a word that even registers in my brain. You will be my wife and you will be coming back to London with me this evening.”

  This evening? “Absolutely not. Please, sir, take Edith. She’s more than ready to banish my father’s debt by becoming your wife. You’re a fool for not realizing how beautiful she is. Besides,” I tell him with a pout, “I am already taken.”

  Whereas he was furious earlier, he seems outraged now. “What is this you speak of? Who do you think you belong to?” he hisses out angrily.

  “His name is William Benedict. I have loved him since I was a small girl. Now that he’s back from university, I’m set to marry him. Not you—not some man I’ve only met today,” I snap.

  His arm flinches, and from the dangerous look in his eye, I suddenly fear he’ll hit me. As he raises his hand, I close my eyes and wait for the impending blow. But he doesn’t hit me. Instead, his hand curls around the back of my neck. With surprising strength, he hauls me to him. And I’m shocked when his lips smash against mine hard enough to nick my bottom lip.

  I go to slap at him, but his free hand steals my wrist as he lowers me back down onto my bed, never losing the connection of our lips. My mind refuses to kiss him back, but my lips respond by parting and allowing him further access. The growl he empties into my mouth sends a shiver through me that gets lodged in my pelvic area. His kiss is rough and unrelenting, so different from William’s soft, worshipping ones.

  William.

  I slip my fingers into the man’s hair and yank him from my lips. “Stop.”

  But he doesn’t stop. No, he pushes toward me again, unfazed by the way I pull at his hair, and kisses me harder. The way his soul attempts to climb inside me through our kiss both frightens and thrills me. Every hair on my body stands on end, and I can’t help but realize how alive I feel.

  So wanted.

  So desired.

  My body squirms in a needy way that embarrasses me. I’m William’s, yet here I am, enjoying—yes, enjoying—the way this man is kissing me so powerfully. It’s as if his kiss somehow consumes my soul.

  “Are you wet for me, dear Elisabeth?” he murmurs when he breaks our kiss for a moment.

  “What do you mean?” I gasp. My words are innocent, but I know exactly what he means. Between my legs, I’m throbbing for this handsome man to touch me. The very thought is a betrayal toward William, and that sickens me.

  “Coy is a very sexy look on you,” he grumbles before he briefly takes my lips. “But I’m not stupid. I can see that my proximity affects you. Your tight cunt is wet, isn’t it?”

  I shake my head in disagreement even though the act is a lie. My knickers are damp because of him. Though William and I have had plenty of steamy kisses, never has one made me borderline insane like the o
ne I’ve shared with Lord Thomas.

  “Lies,” he chides playfully. “If that is the truth, I’ll leave you now. Let you run along to your peasant boy.”

  I frown at him.

  “Your father has a terrible poker face as well. I bet”—he grins—“you’re as wet as you’ve ever been in your entire existence.”

  My blood boils with rage because he’s right. “Wrong. Now, please, let me be. I don’t want you. This isn’t my debt to repay. Surely there’s another way for you to negotiate with my father.”

  He rests a palm on my belly and I swear my dress nearly catches fire from the heat of it. I’m frozen in fear when he slides it lower and lower. I want to shout for my father. I want to hit him and make him stop. But something inside me quietens the voice. Something inside me wants to be touched by him.

  “Ah,” he growls, “I bet I could make you scream my name just by touching you here.”

  The moment his finger connects with a certain part of my body through my clothes, I nearly buck off the bed. While I’ve always been curious, my fingers have only probed within me—not on the outside. The place he touches me now seems so magical as it pulsates pleasure through every nerve ending in my body.

  “W-what are you doing to me?” I whimper. My breathing has become fast and erratic as his finger owns that part of me.

  “I’m doing whatever I want,” he answers simply.

  I know I should stop him from the way he is touching me with practiced efficiency, but my mind is blank of all instruction. All I can think about is how his finger causes stars to blink behind my now closed eyes. Why is my body betraying me?

  “Stop,” I beg, my voice nothing but a whisper. But as I raise my hips to chase his moving finger, we both know that my plea is a lie.

  “I won’t stop until you find your release,” he murmurs back.

  His voice washes over my skin, and the out-of-reach sensation finally obliterates my senses. I want to cry out, but instead, I bite down on my lip as insane, never-before-felt pleasure rages through me. My body shudders wildly out of my control as I ride the waves pulsating through me. When he removes his finger, I hate the feeling of loss.