Becoming Lady Thomas (Becoming Her Book 1) (10 page)

A sly smile forms on his lips. “What if I did some digging? I could find out if they were ever, at any point, involved behind Elisabeth’s back. And if they weren’t, I have ways of proving that they were. Do you want me to work my magic? Spin a story if I have to so that Elisabeth is devastated and runs right into your open arms?”

His idea is pure genius even though I know it will come at a cost.

“I trust that, if anyone can make this work, it would be you. And what debt would I owe you?” I ask. I have more money than I could ever spend. The problem is that so does Alexander.

With my dear friend who’s always been as close as a brother, it never is about money. Usually, it has something to do with his father—the prick of a man who has never treated Alexander properly.

“Oh, Jaz, don’t think of it as a debt. Think of it as a favor. We’re brothers and we do these things for one another.” He smiles. “In fact, I have an idea that just might do.”

I nod at him. My answer is already yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my Elisabeth.

“Father insists that I settle and find a wife. You and I both know I’ll never attach myself to one woman. However, it might suit both of us for me to handle your problem and then take your problem off your hands. If this Edith is as forward as you say she is, I might be able to convince her, at the right price, to be my faux bride. I’m certainly not opposed to blackmail if the opportunity arises,” he chuckles.

“What about William?” I ask. “You can’t kill him. If he’s innocent of your theories, you cannot take his life. That would only drive Elisabeth further from me.”

“Jaz, I’ll sort it out. In this day and age, anyone can be bought for the right price. Trust that I’ll come through. You do your part when it comes to helping me persuade Edith into agreeing. I’ll need a witness of someone with status such as yours of the authenticity of our union to help convince my father. I may call upon you for your help as this plays out.”

Hope finally floods my system. “Of course, Alexander. I’ll do whatever you need. I think we have ourselves a deal.”

Alexander and I shake hands out of formality, but our word is as good as any legally binding document. We’re just two brothers doling out favors for the other.

I HATE HIM.

Actually, I don’t hate him, which really makes me hate him.

God, he is so confusing!

Earlier, he was rotten with the lash of his tongue as he threatened me from ever setting foot in the east wing. It only fueled my desire to traipse around naked in front of his clients simply because I know that it would drive him mad.

After I left, I took my time bathing and dressing. I have never been one to make myself up, but around Jasper, I want to be beautiful—even if it is for the pure reason of toying with him.

As I walk down the hallway toward the door to the garden, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a long mirror. With my ruby-colored hair twisted up and only a few curled tendrils escaping, I appear to be more elegant than the woman I was who arrived just yesterday. The emerald, puff-sleeved dress I’m wearing today perfectly complements my hair color and eyes. It will drive Jasper wild—especially how, much like last night, the corset underneath lifts my breasts until they’re practically spilling out of the top. I hope that evil penis of his hardens at the sight.

The thought of his penis causes my neck and cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Considering I hate him, I sure think about him a lot. Especially a naked him. Now, my ears burn too.

“Thinking about me?”

I spin on my heel to face the thief of my thoughts. He’s still wearing the charcoal-colored top coat, matching vest, and trousers. The white button-up is crisp and unwrinkled despite our earlier romp in the east wing. I’m appalled that my mouth actually waters at the sight of him.

“I was thinking about freedom,” I bite out.

His eyes darken as they fall to my mouth. My lips turn up on one corner in a half smile as I remember the dark rouge I discovered and stained my lips with. The color intensifies the pout on my lips, and by the way he appears to want to devour them, I’d say he likes the color.

“You’ll never be free,” he growls.

I stiffen and then frown as he stalks toward me, but I refuse to back down from his intimidation. When his strong hands grip my hips, I yelp in surprise. Just like every time he touches me, my body flares to life—responds to the way his thumbs caress my hipbones.

“Honeysuckle, don’t you see? You’re a prisoner to my affection. A slave to your own mutual craving. Together, we are shackled by two hearts that only beat with vigor when the other is near. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re every bit a prisoner as I am to the love that bubbles under the surface of our cat-and-mouse games. You may think you’d be happier elsewhere, but your heart would never beat the same—you would die from a broken, empty ache in your chest. My own heart fulfills that ache and makes you whole. Stop turning a blind eye to our love that could be and let fate chain you to me as it should.”

His words silence me, and I mull them over. While they’re highly presumptuous, I can’t help the way my knees buckle at them. I sigh in relief when his hands tighten around my hips to steady me. Each time I’m away from him, I plan all of these ways to keep him at a distance, yet when he’s in my presence, he infects my soul. His scent snakes its way in through my nostrils and dizzies me. I lose all sanity because my mind focuses on one thing.

Jasper.

“May I kiss you, sweet Elisabeth?” he questions.

The need in his voice causes my womb to throb in reciprocation. When he’s sweet, he’s utterly irresistible.

I smile shyly at him. “Since you asked so nicely, you may, Jasper.”

He wastes no time before his lips attack mine, certainly sucking the color right from them. I lose myself in the way he tastes and slip my hands up his chest and into his thick, brown hair. My lips part open to allow him to kiss me deeply, as I know we both want him to. He takes the invitation and engages his tongue with mine. Jasper is an incredible kisser, and everything else but him disappears while we have our moment.

Just when I think we’ll kiss until we suffocate, he tears his mouth from me and rests his forehead on mine.

“Honeysuckle, shall we go for a stroll in the garden before I lose control and do something we’ll both regret?”

His hot, breathy words don’t frighten me—in fact, they excite me. I’ll never disclose to him that wayward thought.

“I’m rather looking forward to it,” I say with a smile.

His grin matches the one on my face as he breaks away from me and threads his fingers with mine. Together, we walk until we reach a door that leads outdoors. As soon as he opens the door, a breeze envelops us and we step out into the garden. Today, rain is inevitable, but it’s still rather warm despite the lack of sunshine.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasp as my eyes take in the sight. It is unexpected that a poised, stoic man such as Jasper would have such a garden hidden away.

The garden is more or less a courtyard surrounded by four walls. Even though it is enclosed by the estate aside from the lack of roof, it is rather large and full of life—plant life, that is.

He releases my hand so that I can touch a fully bloomed azalea bush. The flowers are delicate and stunning with their bright color. I could enjoy them all day. Bending forward, I inhale the unique scent of them.

He chuckles as I flit about to each plant and flower and blubber on about their beauty. When I see a bench under a small tree bearing yellow fruits, I rush over to it and sit down. The sweet air fills my lungs, and I know that, tomorrow, I’ll choose this spot to read a book. I want to get lost in this garden and never leave.

“Shall I lock you in here, prisoner?” he jests with a smile.

I scrunch my nose at him and refrain from sticking my tongue out. “Don’t call me that.”

“Do you prefer,” he asks as he sits on the bench close beside me, “honeysuckle?”

My eyes follow his gesture to a plant beside him—a seemingly messy one displaying unusual yellow, delicate flowers. He plucks one of the flowers and tugs out the center part. When his tongue darts out, I part my mouth open and watch him taste it.

“Mmm. So sweet. You’re still sweeter.” He smirks as his dark eyes lift to mine.

Heat floods my cheeks and I look away only to glance right back at him. “Can I taste?”

His eyes blaze with a need I don’t understand, but he nods. Then he repeats his actions and holds the sweet part up to my mouth. I lean forward and run my tongue across the end. It indeed tastes rather delicious like he claims.

“I like honeysuckle,” I grin. Visions of myself stretched across the bench while reading and suckling on the flower fill me with happiness.

“I love honeysuckle,” he remarks without humor.

My eyes find his, and I frown at him. I know we are talking about the flower, but his words have a double meaning. The thrill that shivers through me signifies that I like the double meaning.

“Where did you find this plant?” I question in an effort to change the subject. “I’m from the countryside and we don’t have anything of the sort.”

He scowls and turns away from my gaze. “It was given by an out-of-town traveler—someone not from our country. He owed me, and luckily for him, I accepted this unique plant as payment.”

I feel as though he’s not being forthcoming with the rest of the story. “And?”

His head snaps over at me. “And nothing.”

I hold his gaze for several moments. “Jasper, this story upsets you. I’m not some dense woman who doesn’t know anything. I’m beginning to be able to read you, and this story stings you in some way. If I’m going to be your wife, you should tell me everything.”

As soon as the last words leave my mouth, I jerk a hand up to my lips as to prevent any more odd things from spilling out. Why did I say that to him?

He takes hold of my hands and leans forward. The kiss that brushes against my lips is sweet—thankful, even. And it tugs at my heart.

“Honeysuckle,” he breathes against my lips, “you’re perfect. And you’re very perceptive.”

I smile at his compliment, but it falls away when he sits back. I already miss his hot breath mixing with mine.

“The traveler and I had become quite close despite our dealings. He was a professor, always researching something new. His research took him all over the world and thrust him further and further into debt. Instead of being firm with the eccentric man like I am with all of my other business dealings, I cut him slack. He wooed me with his gifts, like the plant, and I turned a blind eye.”

A smile plays at my lips. “So he was a friend to you.”

He snaps his head over to stare at me with a harsh look. “Indeed, he was. And on his way to visit me one day, he was murdered here in London, just one street over. He’d been carrying an ornate lamp and a bag full of spices from India. Someone killed him to take his gold-plated lamp, which he no doubt was bringing to gift to me.”

I gape at him. Even though he’s angry, I can see the hurt in in his eyes. He loved this man.

“What was his name?”

This time, his lips break into a wistful smile. “His name was Gus.”

Something in me hurts for him, and before I can stop myself, I tangle my hands into his hair and kiss him fiercely. My kiss is meant to put a salve on the burned heart in his body, to soothe the ache. It pains me that he lost someone so dear to him and is still visibly upset by it.

He allows me to control the kiss and moans his appreciation into my mouth. For the first time, I feel connected to him in an emotional way. Clearly, we have no problems with physical attraction. But as we kiss, for the first time ever, I allow myself to truly accept that I could be his wife. And that I might actually like it.

When I finally tear myself away from him, I feel an invisible tethering beginning to form between us. With each passing moment away from my family and William, I feel more like I belong here with Jasper.

He takes my hands and smiles at me. “Dear Elisabeth, would you do me the honor in accompanying me to dinner tonight?”

My heart patters in my chest. “Jasper, I would love to.”