Page 7 of Thomas
Lord Cameron Dwight Ashford stood smoothly from his tufted armchair and bowed slightly at the waist. “Gentlemen, welcome to Ashford House. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Distracted, Thomas jumped slightly when another servant appeared behind him to take his coat, which he relinquished, then sat at the end of the short couch across from Lord Ashford’s position.
Thomas openly took the man in. Lord Cameron exuded health and vitality as he sat calmly in his chair. He was well dressed in a rust-colored blazer, white dress shirt and darkslacks fitted perfectly to his broad and tall form. His warm brown skin almost glowed in the silver light from the windows, and his eyes were bright and round, the color like hazelnuts with flecks of something else.
Thomas’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.What the hell does a man like this want withme?It made no sense to his logical mind. Thomas’s family, the Blakeley Clan, were prolific throughout Eden’s history, but they offered no royal title like the clans of Central Eden.
On the surface, they appeared wealthy in land and real estate. However, because of his ancestors’ misrule, there were fewer and fewer vampires available to make use of the farmland surrounding their estate. The castle they called home was hastily creeping toward derelict status with each passing year.
From Thomas’s perspective, the purebred across from him had a beautiful estate, an undeniably attractive visage and enough money to likely bid for any mate he wanted.
So, why Thomas?
“Thank you for inviting us to your estate home,” Thomas’s elder father crooned. Suddenly, the man had the elegance of an alligator in a swan costume. “May I present to you Sir Thomas Antony Blakeley, the eldest son of Blakeley Clan.”
Lord Ashford dipped his head, then met Thomas head on with those bright hazel eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Thomas. Thank you for accepting my humble proposal.”
“It—” Thomas’s voice came out scratchy and choked. He cleared it, audibly, much to his eldest father’s dismay. From the corners of his eyes, Thomas saw his face screw up in irritation.
Well, fuck you, it’s your fault, Thomas thought, before trying again. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Lord Cameron. Thank you.”
His voice was still wrong. Too quiet and scratchy. He contemplated adding, “Very sorry, my father choked me in thecar on the way here, as fathers are known to do.” He swiftly decided that the satisfaction of openly delivering such a barb wouldn’t be worth the potential trouble afterward.
“Lord Ashford, are you absolutely certain that we cannot convince you to at least participate in a proper banquet to celebrate this union?” Thomas’s younger father offered, prettily batting his dark lashes as if to sweeten the offer. “We could hold it at our castle and take care of all the arrangements. You would only need to arrive in a timely fashion.”
Thomas wondered if the elder parent had intentionally put the younger up to this, considering they’d just told him in the car that Lord Ashford had rejected all celebratory practices commonly associated with Eden marriage rituals. The thought being, if the more charming and prettier one asked, perhaps Lord Ashford would concede?
Lord Ashford lifted a palm. “As stated in the contract I proposed, I have no desire to participate in any ritualistic activities.” The man said this firmly, but then hesitated as his gaze shifted toward Thomas. “Unless… unless Sir Thomas strongly wishes to participate in such an event?”
Everyone’s attention shifted to Thomas. Thomas himself stifled his surprise at suddenly being given a foothold in the conversation. His elder father looked on in warning, his gaze sharp. The younger was imploring. Both, in their own, unique ways silently willing him to say yes to Lord Ashford’s question. To give them the opportunity to show off this most favorable mating arrangement in front of their peers. To throw a glamorous party at their grandiose castle.
Thomas held back the sudden urge to smile.To hell with the both of you.“I do not.”
“Then that settles it,” Lord Ashford said.
They had an early lunch together in another warm and comfortable banquet room just down the hall from the sitting room. Thomas picked over his food, eating a forkful or two of buttery mashed potatoes and seasoned vegetables. He didn’t touch the meat.
His elder father commandeered the stiff conversation throughout the meal, and Lord Ashford graciously fielded his many, many questions about the history of the property, his parents—traveling in Australia, indefinitely, it seemed—and the ins and outs of running his small realm of Upper Avalon.
Thomas listened without contributing, generally embarrassed by his elder father’s barrage of questions. The man absolutely lacked a certain finesse and charm in his communication, and it made him come across as rude and dogged. Which he absolutely was.
Despite the uncomfortable discourse playing out before him, Thomas was oddly comforted by the permeating scent wafting through the estate. It was like a warm hug embracing his cold skin and aching body. His dry, sandpapery throat still throbbed from the assault in the car, but the oxygen here seemed almost higher in its quality.
By the time they were all standing in the foyer once more, it was obvious to Thomas that Lord Ashford was on edge. He’d been composed and relaxed when they’d first met him in the sitting room. Now, his energy felt taut. A stretched rubber band about to snap.
“Congratulations to you both—and thank you again for having us, Lord Ashford.” Thomas’s younger father dipped his head politely.
“My pleasure,” Lord Ashford replied. “Safe travels on your return home.”
“Thomas—remember our conversation in the car,” his elder father said, grinning toothily. “Be most accommodating to hislordship. He has compensated us generously for your hand and wedo notwant him to be disappointed.”
Thomas’s entire body stiffened with humiliation as he inhaled sharply. He should not be surprised, but the vulgarity of the statement—the crude truth of his situation—being splayed so openly felt like a hard slap to his face. A final act of violence against him from this relentlessly insidious creature.
Thomas opened his mouth, but his younger father abruptly took the elder by the arm and pulled him toward the double doors. “Take care, the two of you!” he said, pulling his husband away and out onto the portico. A group of servants followed them, seeing them to their car.
The silence between Thomas and Lord Ashford felt like a wet, cold blanket. Thomas didn’t dare look at him. He was furious and embarrassed. He wanted to die, right there on the fanciful marble floor, and be done with all this misery.
“You must be tired,” Lord Ashford offered. “May I show you to your rooms? You can rest for a while, and I… We’ll give you a tour of the estate when you’re ready?”
