Page 18 of Thomas
Internally, Cameron cringed. “Please stop using that word. This isn’t whatever you’re thinking it is.” He pulled the door open and gestured for her to go through. “This is an on-paper arrangement. Onpaper.”
“Okay, okay. You’re so stubborn.”
Cameron half expected to find Lennon hovering outside the door in his protective way, but the manservant wasn’t there. He and Rachelle walked to the library in silence, which Cameron was grateful for.
When they arrived, the doors were open and Thomas was inside, sitting comfortably in one of the tufted chairs beside the unlit fireplace. Cameron knocked softly and Thomas’s head turned. He set his book atop the small coffee table and stood tall.
As Cameron approached with Rachelle trailing at his heels, he felt as if Thomas didn’t look quite as shabby today. His clothes were still ill fitted to his gaunt frame, but this ensemble seemed newer than the ones he’d been wearing throughout the week. Or properly pressed and ironed, at least. Had he made an effort, knowing of Rachelle’s visit today?
His dark brown hair was swept cleanly back, but the murky light pouring in through the windows did nothing for his ashen complexion.
“Sir Thomas Blakeley, may I introduce my sister, Lady Rachelle Evelyn Winters. Rachelle, this is my bonding partner, Sir Thomas.”
Rachelle nodded politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Sir Thomas. Welcome to the Ashford Clan.”
Thomas returned her nod. “Please, call me Thomas. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Rachelle.”
“Please, Rachelle is well enough.”
Thomas offered his weak smile. The one where he meant to come across as affable but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.”
Rachelle looked up to Cameron. “Then we’re all on a comfy first-name basis, yes? Are you Cameron?”
Cameron frowned. “The last time I checked.”
Rachelle laid a palm on his bicep. “No, dear brother, I mean, have you given Thomas permission to call you Cameron—to address you less formally.”
Cameron blinked and looked to Thomas, who was vacantly staring back at him. “Do… you need that? Permission?”
Thomas offered his genial smile. “I would prefer to have your consent before addressing you so informally, Lord Ashford.”
Rachelle’s palm squeezed his bicep as the silence hung between them. Cameron almost flinched away, her grip was so tight.
Bloody hell.He was very bad at this. “Of course you can call me Cameron. My apologies, I didn’t realize.”
“No apology is necessary. Thank you, Cameron.”
“My brother is undoubtedly the most generous and attentive vampire you’ll ever meet,” Rachelle said, patting Cameron’s arm as if to ease the tension she’d caused there, “but his knowledge of social decorum is lacking, to say the least. Please be patient with him?”
“Of course,” Thomas said politely.
“And direct,” Rachelle added hastily. “You’ll need to be direct if you want something from him—no silly fussing about or dropping hints, because he won’t get?—”
“That’s enough, Rachelle,” Cameron said, annoyed. “Not helpful.”
“Since I’m on a roll, though,” she went on, eyeing Thomas, “my birthday is in one month and I’m planning to have a party at my estate. How do you feel about making it a double celebration? My birthday, your bonding contract? Two for one.”
Cameron’s muscles tensed as he drew in a tight breath. He’d already told her he had zero interest in any parties to celebrate this arrangement. But now she was openly usurping him, and Cameron would not dare to presume to object on his (on-paper) partner’s behalf.
Thomas’s eyes flickered over to Cameron just briefly before they settled back on Rachelle. “I… would defer to whatever Cameron wishes in this circumstance, given his strong disinclination for raucous social situations.”
One of Rachelle’s manicured eyebrows quirked up. “That’s thoughtful of you. Yes, I know my brother hates parties, but he is capable of bearing it, if needs must. And I know the residents of Upper Avalon will be expectingsomesort of celebratory event for his nuptials. At least with it being my birthday, not all of the attention will be centered on the two of you? Think it over, pragmatically and from a social standpoint. Please?”
Rachelle looked between them, pleading, while Thomas stared at Cameron, blinking his pale heather-colored eyes innocently. Reaching his limit, Cameron groaned. He lifted a palm and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll think about it, alright? For God’s sake.”
She grinned. “That’s all I ask.”
“You ask a lot,” Cameron said huskily. “Are you staying for lunch?”
