Chapter Sixteen
Lisbeth stepped into the hotel, nervous. Thomas had sent her a missive requesting her presence. She glanced at the letter clutched in her hand. Lisbeth wasn’t sure why she was holding it. Somehow, it helped ease her nerves.
She found it peculiar that he hadn’t called on her but had instead asked her to come to his room.
It felt salacious, but perhaps Lisbeth was paranoid.
Discreetly, she took the stairs to the second floor of the Delmont Hotel.
It was one of the most lavish establishments in all of London.
Lisbeth was shocked that Thomas had managed to obtain a room.
It was often rumored to be fully booked.
She reached the door with twenty-six scrawled in gold across the front.
Quietly, Lisbeth knocked, feeling fortunate that no one was in the hallway.
A bit of annoyance flared in her that Thomas was putting her in this position.
She was well-known, and if anyone spotted her here, gossip would explode in the newspapers.
The door opened, and he stood there in only his shirt and trousers. She found herself blushing at his casual state. He smiled sardonically. “Duchess, you’ve received my missive.”
Her gaze jerked to his eyes, perplexed by the new nickname he’d given her. She forced a smile on her face. Lisbeth reminded herself that it was good that she was here. She would tell him the truth. Thomas stepped aside, allowing her entry.
She walked in and examined the room. It was a beautifully designed sitting area.
She glanced at two doors and suspected that one was his sleeping area and the other was a bathing room.
When this hotel opened, a key marketing point was that all rooms on the second and third floors featured private bathing spaces.
Nerves fluttered in Lisbeth’s stomach, but she forced herself to smile. “This is beautiful lodging. I can’t believe you secured a room.”
He strode to a side table and poured them both wine. “Apparently, the owner wanted to be able to say the famous explorer Thomas Easton was staying here.”
She frowned at his words. From their time in Syria, he’d never struck her as a braggart. Thomas motioned for her to sit on the sofa. She did, and he joined her, his leg pressed up against hers. She frowned as he handed her one of the glasses of wine.
Thomas took a sip of the drink, “So tell me, Lizzie—no, I’m sorry, duchess, how have you been?”
Annoyance surged in her. Thomas wasn’t acting like himself. Still, she was glad she was here. Taking a deep breath, Lisbeth said, “I’m glad you sent me a note. There is something I must tell you.”
He ignored her words and said, “May I kiss you, duchess?”
She frowned at him. “Please stop calling me that.”
“Isn’t that what you are?”
His fingers stroked one of her arms, and a jolt of desire shot through her.
It infuriated her because she was doing her best to tell him the truth.
She needed him to know about Alice before he discovered it himself.
His hand grasped her chin, and his thumb stroked her lower lip.
“Why have you tempted me my entire life?”
His words should have been romantic, but they seemed to be laced more with frustration. Thomas sighed. “I’ve slept with dozens of women to forget you, and you are still the one I dream of.”
She yanked out of his grasp, standing. Lisbeth took a sip of her drink, trying to gather her thoughts and also unsure why he was behaving so strangely. “Thomas—”
He stood and said, “Come here, Lizzie.”
The use of her childhood nickname on his lips soothed some of her annoyance, but she still studied him apprehensively. She started again, “Thomas, I need—”
Thomas shook his head. “Before we discuss anything, kiss me one more time.”
She gave him a pointed look, and he added, “Let me just feel your mouth against mine. I traveled here to see you.”
Lisbeth placed her glass on a table, worried. His eyes flared with desire, and warmth shot through her. Suddenly, she found herself wanting to kiss him before everything was known. There would be so much turmoil afterward. One kiss, and then Lisbeth would reveal it all.
She stepped towards him, her lower region flaring with want. She’d always been attracted to Thomas, but at thirty-two, he had a rugged appeal with his scruffy face, tan skin, and broad shoulders that was so much different from the boy she fell in love with.
The desire in his eyes sparked more, and he ran his tongue over his lower lip. Her core clenched; memories of him tasting her in Syria flashed in her mind. She reached him and placed a hand on his hard chest. His heart pounded underneath her hand.
One of his hands grasped her hip, and she felt herself leaning into him.
Lisbeth wanted to feel his body against hers.
His head dipped down, and he kissed her gently, but then it deepened.
The touching of their mouths became one of dominance and hunger.
It should frighten Lisbeth, but instead, her body screamed for more.
She clung to him, and then, in one swift motion, Thomas had her pushed up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist. He broke his savage kiss and ran his mouth down her throat.
Thomas started to release one of her breasts from her dress when her rational side broke free from the fog of desire that had ignited.
Lisbeth pushed at his chest. “Please put me down.”
He tried to claim her mouth again, but she shook her head. Thomas released her and strode to the other side of the room, facing away from her, taking deep breaths.
“Thomas, I didn’t come for this. There is something I need to tell you.”
He didn’t say anything at first, and she added, “Please turn around. I need to speak with you. I’ve done something—”
Thomas turned, and his eyes glittered with hatred. “I know what you’ve done, duchess. I’ve already decided what will happen next. You will marry me tomorrow.”
Horror filled her face. “No.”
He glared at her, and Lisbeth felt all the animosity she’d expected. Still, they couldn’t marry. Lisbeth shook her head as if somehow, she could make this all disappear but deep down she knew that was impossible.
“You don’t have a choice. I will be in our daughter’s life.”
*
Thomas studied her as the realization that he already knew sank in. The color drained from her face. She grabbed her wine glass and took two large gulps. Finally, she said, “I know you are upset, but marriage tomorrow is an impossibility. We would need a license.”
He grinned bitterly. “Fortunately for us, being famous helps you procure one faster. I’ve already obtained a special license.”
Her eyes widened. Thomas smirked at her. “I explained to the church that we’d fallen madly in love while you visited Syria. They found it rather romantic.”
She bit her lip as if trying to deduce what to say next. His rage crackled within him. He wanted her to beg for his forgiveness or even cry, but instead, she stood staring at him, unblinking.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I can’t marry you.”
He laughed darkly. “Do you truly believe you have a choice, Liz—duchess?”
“Why are you calling me that?”
Thomas stalked to her, but she didn’t flinch or fall apart.
He hated this woman, but shockingly, desire still swarmed in him for her.
Marrying her would be madness, but he didn’t give a damn.
His daughter and this woman would then be permanently a part of his life. No one could take that away from him.
He asked, “What else should I call you? You aren’t the sweet Lizzie I once knew. That girl died a long time ago.”
She jerked back as if his words had struck her. “I won’t marry you, but I do want you to meet Alice.”
He stepped away, frustration burning in his chest. “As a family friend? Someone who comes over for dinners once a week?”
“Thomas, please let me explain.”
Shaking his head, “I don’t care why you did it. You will marry me tomorrow, and we will raise our child together. We won’t tell her the truth right away, but eventually I want her to know.
Her eyes flashed with anger. “And if I refuse?”
He shrugged. Thomas would get everything he wanted, and he didn’t care if he had to dirty his hands to obtain it. Lisbeth could hate him. The feeling would be a mutual thing between them.
“If you don’t, I will tell the newspapers that she is mine and that before you wed your husband, you ran off with your housekeeper’s son.”
Her face turned red with anger. “You would destroy my life and my children’s lives.”
Thomas stalked to her and grabbed her chin.
“Your children’s lives can only be destroyed if you refuse to make the right decision.
It’s in your hands, not mine. My daughter will grow up with me in her life, no matter what.
Regarding ruining your life, I don’t care how you feel.
Again, my only focus is the child you kept from me. ”
He was so furious. Thomas found he wanted to hurt this woman as deeply as she’d devastated him.
Shockingly, as they stared at each other, the hum of desire intensified between them.
His attraction for her had never subsided; not even a tiny bit.
The realization only heightened his anger.
Still, it wasn’t just him. He saw the same need and want in her eyes.
Thomas jerked his gaze away, hating their feelings for each other now that all Lisbeth’s secrets had been revealed.
He’d been a damn fool thinking he’d follow her back to London and they’d live happily ever after.
She continued to stare at him in shock and alarm—the unhinged need to see her as undone as he felt surged in him.
“Don’t worry, it will be a marriage in name only.
I have plenty of women willing to share my bed and comfort me—”
Lisbeth slapped him. His head snapped back. Fury glittered in her eyes. “I will not wed you, and don’t worry, my desire to share your bed is gone completely.”
A nibble of guilt flared in him. Thomas had taunted her with the other woman to hurt her, and it had worked.
No. Thomas would not feel bad for this woman who denied him his child for over a decade.
“You don’t understand Lisbeth. You have no choice.
We will wed tomorrow. I will arrange for witnesses. ”
She was quiet, weighing his words. Eventually, resignation filled her face. “What will I tell my children?”
“Tell them while in Syria, you fell in love with the famous explorer Thomas Easton,” he bit out.
“You aren’t the man I thought you were. I don’t care for this cocky explorer persona you are embracing.”
“Don’t!” he snapped. “You kept her from me. You and my mother schemed to keep my child a secret. Was it to be forever?”
“Thomas, you don’t understand,” she whispered. “It isn’t that simple.”
“I don’t care,” he snapped and stomped over to the desk, grabbing a paper. He handed it to her. “You will meet me here tomorrow.”
She looked at him pleadingly. He wouldn’t feel bad. “We will wed, and I will move in with you and your family. I don’t care what you tell society. Tell them we have fallen in love, or tell them you are marrying me for my money. Whatever makes you feel better.”
“Please give me time.”
He would not yield, no matter what. “Tomorrow, Lisbeth.”
She shook her head in frustration before stomping out of the room. His heart pounded, and his stomach clenched. Thomas knew he was behaving like a monster, but he was determined to be in his child’s life every day.
In another lifetime, he’d wanted to wed Lisbeth because he loved her so desperately, but this union wasn’t about that. It was about righting a wrong caused by the temptress. He didn’t foresee sharing a bed with her or touching her. Liar, his mind mocked.
It frustrated him that, despite his dislike for her, Thomas still found himself drawn to her.
The moment he saw Lisbeth, he wanted to kiss her.
Even with all the fury bubbling in him, he’d wanted to taste her lips one more time before all was revealed.
Christ, he’d almost taken her against the wall.
A chaste kiss had never been enough with her.
Lisbeth would hate him for a long time. Thomas told himself it didn’t matter. This marriage wasn’t about them but about his daughter.