Chapter Eighteen
Lisbeth, an hour ago, had heard one of the servants escort Thomas to the guest chamber. She needed to speak with him. Even if it was an argument, they needed to discuss in detail how all this would unfold. It wasn’t good for the children to be around so much animosity.
She walked to the guest chamber, feeling as if she was sneaking around even though Thomas was now her husband. Lisbeth opened the door and found him asleep, not in the bed, but in a wingback chair. A glass of brandy rested in his hand, sitting on one of his knees.
Tonight, apparently, would not be the time for their discussion. She gently pulled the glass from his hand and retrieved a soft blanket from the foot of the bed to cover him with. When Lisbeth turned back, she was surprised to see his green eyes staring back at her.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she murmured.
He smiled softly at her, and it was filled with warmth that startled her. Since their encounter at the hotel, he’d not looked at her in that way. She shook out the blanket, but he pulled it away, dropping it on the floor. “Come here, Lizzie.”
The endearment from his lips made her body hum. She frowned at him but stepped closer. “Have you been drinking?”
He laughed. “I’ve drank, stopped, and now I’m here.”
“You are home,” she said.
Thomas grimaced. “I’m not sure that is what this place is.”
“It could be. May we talk?”
He pulled her towards him so his legs were between hers, hiking her nightdress up slightly. “This place is like a museum containing all the things I could have had but were denied to me.”
She stroked his cheek. “It doesn’t have to be. We can start anew.”
His hand stroked the outside of her leg, sending warmth through her body. Lisbeth should step away, but for once, he wasn’t staring at her with so much hatred. It may be desire, but she would take it over animosity.
Thomas’s hand drifted up, reaching her stomach, her hip, and then sliding down her lower back and bottom. “Thomas, we shouldn’t—”
“Kiss me, Lizzie—just one time. Let’s pretend that none of this exists for a moment,” he said gruffly.
There was nothing wise about appeasing him, but she found herself unable to resist. She dipped her head down and placed her lips to his. Thomas’s warm hands pulled her closer until she stumbled onto his lap astride.
The soft kiss deepened. They explored each other with a yearning that Lisbeth felt so deeply her eyes began to water. His hands threaded through her hair. Thomas broke the kiss and whispered, “I used to dream about wrapping this thick blonde hair in my hand.”
Lisbeth kissed his jaw and his throat. Her core clenched as his shaft pulsated against her most feminine spot, only his trousers separating them.
He pulled her mouth back to his. The kiss turned hungrier and needier.
He arched his hips upward, and Lisbeth threw her head back, moaning.
He ran his fingers down her throat and tugged at the top of her nightgown. It remained in place.
Thomas leaned forward and took the tip of one of her breasts through the fabric in his mouth, sucking and teasing her.
Her body was inflamed, and their rocking against each other became more frantic.
One of his hands dipped down between her thighs, and she moaned.
He released her nipple. “You are so wet. I need to be inside you, Lizzie. Please.”
She nodded and shifted upwards while he removed his shaft from his pants. He bunched her nightgown up so she was bare from the waist down. Lisbeth lowered herself onto him, and he watched intently until he was fully buried in her. She wanted this every day of her life. Lisbeth wanted him.
The ache for him thrummed through her, and she began to ride him. Each meeting of their bodies was hard and deep. It was as if all the emotions that had been buried within each of them were coming out with every thrust. Their movements shifted between tenderness and frustration.
The throbbing in her was building. She was close to her climax.
Her body was thirsty for it, and she rode him harder, needing it.
Thomas seemed to be racing towards his finish as well, as he bucked underneath her.
She whimpered when he wrapped her hair in his fist and held her so they were looking at each other.
“Why are you such a fucking temptation, Lizzie? I shouldn’t want you or this.”
His words hurt, but also inflamed her. The anger Lisbeth felt at his unwillingness to talk surged within her. She rocked harder, hating his words. “Do you think I want to desire you? A man who has forced me to wed him for life, even though he hates me.”
He growled and pulled her head down for a punishing kiss.
The ache in her core spiked to a level that left her breathless.
She was so close. He grasped her hips frantically.
They pounded into each other, and gone was any tenderness.
In its place for both of them was desire, a need to be sated, and anger.
Her eyes connected with his fiery ones just as the ache in her lower body exploded. Thomas groaned at the same time, spilling his seed deep into her. She fell against him as he slowly rocked his hips. Eventually, she pulled back and looked down at him. A look of devastation covered Thomas’s face.
Lisbeth pulled herself from his lap. He stood and handed her a cloth to clean up before taking care of himself and closing his trousers. Thomas didn’t make eye contact with her. Finally, Lisbeth said, “Thomas, look at me.”
He shook his head. “I have to go.”
She grasped his arm. “Stop running.”
Yanking his arm free, he said, “This was a mistake. I could have gotten you with child.”
Frustration and anger welled in her. “Is that so wrong? You are my husband. I love you.”
“Don’t say that,” he bit out.
Lisbeth did. She always would. “Tell me you don’t love me. I want to hear the lie on your lips.”
He remained quiet, but there was no mistaking his anger. Yet, he didn’t say the words aloud. Why did that make her hopeful?
“I’m so sorry for everything, but we have a chance to be together and happy, Thomas. Why would we deny ourselves that?”
“I can’t help wanting you. Damn it, I’ve tried for years,” he ground out.
Lisbeth silently pleaded for him to let some of the anger go. She knew if she asked him aloud right now, it would fall on deaf ears.
His glare turned darker. “Love is no longer what I feel for you, duchess. That is gone and will never return.”
Her heart shattered. She’d thought he wouldn’t be able to say such a thing to her.
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“We are only married so that I can be near my child. So she can know me, and I can be a part of her life. You and I, duchess, will likely end up fucking again, but don’t be a fool and think it is love. We need to be better at making sure I don’t get you with child.”
She closed her eyes, fury welling in her at his hurtful words. She grabbed a glass and threw it at him. It shattered against the wall. He looked away, stunned. In truth, Lisbeth was also shocked by her actions.
“Mother,” Jeremy yelled from down the hallway.
Lisbeth was shaking and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She turned to walk away, and Thomas grabbed her arm. She yanked away from him. “Leave at least until you can learn to speak with me. I will not have my children grow up with this animosity between us.”
He nodded and rushed from the room. She wiped at the tears, hating him so much.
“Mother,” Jeremy called again.
She hurried to his room. The governess was already there. He was crying. “I had a bad dream, and then I heard a loud noise.”
Lisbeth waved Miss Ashby away and sat on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair. “I dropped a glass. Go back to sleep, little one.”
He did as she asked, drifting off. Lisbeth shook her head, horrified by both her and Thomas’s behavior.
She wouldn’t live with him if they could not get along.
It was too much for Alice and Jeremy. They would have to figure something out.
Perhaps she would take the children to the country until things settled down.
The Historical Society for Female Curators was planning an event to reveal the end of the epic. She would miss that. Still, it didn’t matter. If she stayed, she and Thomas were likely to destroy each other.
*
Thomas sat at the Den in one of the quieter rooms. He needed a moment to himself. In his anger, he’d tipped the newspapers off about his wedding to Lisbeth; now, it was everywhere. The minute he’d walked into the club tonight, men had wanted to congratulate him.
He sipped his brandy, hating all the poor choices he’d made of late. Thomas had truly turned into a madman, not like the one in the Arabic tale, but an actual lunatic. He’d forced Lisbeth to marry him. Still, anger shot through him whenever he thought of his daughter being raised by another.
When he met her yesterday, she looked at him with pure hatred. Thomas suspected that suddenly having a new father figure would make any child feel that way. Jeremy, Lisbeth’s other child, seemed to deal with it better, but it was a disaster.
He took a sip of his drink. His mind flashed to last night. He’d wanted her so badly, and then she’d shown up in his bedchamber. It was like his dream had come true. For a moment, he didn’t want to think about all the bad stuff between them. He’d simply wanted to feel Lizzie’s body against his.
Then, in the middle of it, his brain couldn’t stop thinking about the townhouse he was in and the life she’d lived without him.
Any tenderness he felt for her evaporated instantly.
The end of their coupling had been one filled with anger and selfishness.
The sad part was that afterward, he still wanted her even though he despised Lisbeth now.
Devons sat down across from him. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Thomas scowled and said nothing.
“Why are you here if you are newly married?”
He sighed. “Didn’t you just marry recently?”
The club owner smirked. “I did, but this is also my business. I’ve also been married for a few weeks now. If gossip is correct, you’ve just gotten married yesterday.”
He forced himself to smile. “I’m just getting away for a few hours.”
“I know we haven’t seen each other since Latakia, but if you ever need anything, let me know. It is very easy to become wrapped up in all your admirers. If you need a real friend, I’m here.”
Some of Thomas’s anger subsided. He did appreciate Devons.
Since his arrival, people seemed to fawn over him.
In truth, it was overwhelming and something he wasn’t enjoying all that much.
Well, except that, at times, it helped him keep his mind off his debacle with Lisbeth.
He was in so much pain right now, but he cringed every time he remembered his words to her yesterday evening.
“Do you think if two people have hurt each other deeply, they can overcome that?” he asked.
Devon’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure. I believe it depends on what they’ve done and if they love each other more than they hate each other.”
Thomas nodded, unsure how he felt. Their conversation was interrupted when Lord Jude stumbled into the room. “Mr. Easton, join us for drinks out here. We want to hear about your adventures and congratulate you on your wedding.”
He forced himself to smile. “I will be there momentarily.”
Jude stumbled back out of the room. Evidently, he’d already been celebrating a great deal.
“A word of caution: Lord Jude is a notorious gossip. It isn’t wise to reveal anything to him because all of London will know about it,” Devons explained.
“I appreciate you letting me know.”
Devons added, “Go home. Spend time with your bride.”
Thomas couldn’t go back to the duke’s residence. He took a sip of his drink and stood. “I think I will join the revelry in the main hall for a bit.”
“It won’t help with whatever you’re upset about,” Devons stated.
He finished his drink and forced himself to smile. “I’m fine.”
Thomas walked out into the main hall, and a large group of men applauded him. Yes, this was what Thomas wanted. He needed to get lost in the noise. He hoped that would help him forget about everything else.
He smiled at a server and loudly said, “Bring all these men another drink. I have a story to tell them.”
Everyone cheered.