Absolute Surrender (18 page)

Amelia
’
s hands softened slowly, stroking the back of his hand, delving into the cuff on his wrist, shooting sparks into Charles’s bloodstream from the tips of her fingers.

He looked up to find Ender watching him carefully, his eyes concerned but calm. How could Ender be so calm? It was as though he knew to his very soul that she would recover from this. Was that the key? The knowing? Would this pass, too?

This was terrifying to Charles. He wasn
’
t sure he had it in him to be so calm when she seemed so out of sorts. Charles saw Ender nod to him, as though he
’
d heard his thoughts, then Charles’s gaze fell to the hands on her chest. Charles’s hand. On her chest. As she lay across
his
chest. This was too much to wrap his brain around.

Charles tensed a bit under her hands, knowing Ender watched them, this connection between their hands so seemingly intimate. How could Ender be so calm to watch this? Charles moved his other hand to her rib cage, just below her breast, held her there. Charles felt her deep breath in the expansion of her ribs between his hands. Felt her ease and her heart slow, falling into a steadier rhythm.

Amelia
’
s eyes opened, and she placed a gentle kiss on the underside of Ender
’
s jaw. It took everything in Charles to remain relaxed on her, to prevent his fingers from giving away the difficulty with which he watched her kiss another man. Charles’s gaze darted to Ender, who
’
d closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the arm of the chaise, as though whatever came next was entirely acceptable.

“Kiss me,” she whispered softly.

Charles knew then that his hands had betrayed him, and he turned his face into his shoulder, closed his eyes. He shouldn
’
t be here. Charles shouldn
’
t be party to this…whatever this was. Ender obviously had her in hand. Charles knew Ender could care for her, knew that it was right to leave them be. Charles would find a wife. That
’
s all he needed, a wife in name and deed. Nothing more. Charles knew no one could ever replace Amelia in his heart.

“She means you.” Ender
’
s voice was gruff, and Charles opened his eyes to find them both looking at him. Waiting. Legs shifted beneath her skirts, between them, closer to the rest of her and allowing him to follow—to get closer to her—to them.

Charles clenched his eyes, and when he opened them, Ender let his head fall back again. That made this easier. Whatever she asked of him, he would do. Charles knew he could not deny her. He also knew he could not pull her away to kiss her. He must come to her, here, while she lay on
another man
’
s chest.

“Charles.” She breathed it, not even a sound on her lips, just the air that carried his name to her, and he was mesmerized, concentrating on those pink lips, that pink tongue between them. Her tongue darted out, licked across the top carefully, then retreated. He followed. His hand left her ribs to press into the cushion of the chaise next to them, to steady himself. He leaned in as her eyelids fell, and she reached toward him, the fingertips of one hand guiding his chin toward her. So slowly, so peacefully.

Charles’s body screamed,
TAKE,
as his mind set blinders to the presence of that other warm body beneath them. The first touch of their lips was not even a touch, more of an impression, or the suggestion of a touch. Though Charles could feel her mouth, he knew this kiss wasn
’
t yet fully realized. The kiss waited. For what, he didn
’
t know.

Charles’s eyes closed, and her tongue darted out, deliberately, inviting him in.

He pressed against her slowly, the conversation beginning, the words coming slowly at first, then rising to paragraphs, pages, music, a symphony. The hand still on her chest felt her heart pick up tempo, and he receded, painstakingly slowly, their eyes meeting beneath lashes not fully lifted. He kissed the edge of her smile, her cheek, the tear at the corner of her eye. Then his gaze caught on the movement of the chest she rested on, breaking the tenuous connection they held.

Charles paused a moment, knowing he had to progress slowly because she was calm. They were together, and she was calm. Charles couldn
’
t be the one to panic now. He pushed away from her, from them, replaced his hand on her chest as he turned on the chaise, gazing into the fire.

She pulled her legs up onto the chaise, her skirts sliding with them as she curled lazily into Hugh. Only then did Charles see the length of leg against his was Ender
’
s, not Amelia
’
s.

And reality began to sink back in.

“It
’
s not impossible,” Hugh said to Jackson, watching as he stared into the smoldering embers of the banked fire.

Jackson
looked like a man back from war. One who
’
d seen and experienced too much. He looked like Amelia when she was lost in herself.

Jackson’s
hand was still on her chest, and hers stroked it, from the fingertips to the edge of his cuff, ducking underneath the fabric occasionally. Hugh watched her movements and felt them on his own flesh as though she stroked Hugh
’
s wrist and not
Jackson
’s.

Hugh lifted his hands, one resting against her temple, the other arm wrapped around her middle. He knew it was time to bring Amelia back to the world. They hadn
’
t the time to discuss this tonight. She needed to be taken home before her family discovered her missing. She
’
d a difficult enough time in the
ton
without being labeled for inappropriate behavior.

“Jacks…” Hugh waited a moment, then, “Jackson, we must see her home somehow.”

Jackson turned to him, some sort of consciousness coming back to his eyes as he looked at her lying so peacefully there. He nodded.

“I
’
ll see to her. I
’
ll make some sort of excuse to her mother should she stop us. I
’
ve an agreement with her father. It should be me to see her home. My carriage is ready as well. It—”

Hugh waved off his maundering. “Yes, Jackson, of course.” Hugh turned toward Amelia and spoke softly into her ear. “My sweet, we must get you home now. Before you
’
re missed.” Hugh kissed the shell of her ear, couldn
’
t help but taste it, smell her hair, nudge her a bit with his nose as she came back to them from wherever it was she went.

Hugh saw
Jackson’s eyes dart to his hand, still on her chest, and knew Amelia
’
s heartbeat picked up. Hugh tapped that wrist with one finger to get
Jackson’s attention, then gave a small shake of his head.
Stay calm.
Hugh saw
Jackson’s nod of understanding, then watched as the rise and fall of his hand steadied on her chest.

Amelia
’
s breathing slowed as she stopped trailing her fingers on
Jackson’s wrist, then she took their hands, one of his, one of
Jackson’s, and moved to sitting on the chaise between them.

“
Well, I
—” She left their hands in her lap, then lifted hers to her mouth, the edge of her dress, her temple, as though to retrace their steps…to make sure all these pieces of her were still in attendance.

They sat for a moment, one of Hugh
’
s legs trapped behind her, in quite an awkward silence. Then Amelia stood, and they both followed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and took a few steps forward, then turned toward them, attempting a smile. When it failed, she looked down to the floor.

“I can
’
t speak to you together. I…Hugh, might you call on me tomorrow?”

Jackson spoke then. “I
’
m set to call on you tomorrow as well, Amelia.”

“Yes, well, I
’
m sure tomorrow will feel quite different from tonight. Perhaps we can all be together…I mean, perhaps we can picnic to…together, or some such?” Her hands went to her mouth to cover a sob, and they both stepped forward, pushing her back toward the fire grate. Her other hand came up before her to stay them as her skirts swayed dangerously close to the embers. “No, please—” She looked up then. Hugh could tell she attempted to keep herself calm, and she took his hand. “Until tomorrow, Hugh.” Then she walked out of the library.

Jackson turned to him. “
I don’
t know—”

“That makes two of us.” Hugh held his hand out, and they shook, both staring at the sudden warm, strong contact—and, like they
’
d been burned, severed it.

Jackson walked past him, following Amelia from the house. Hugh heard the sturdy click of the front entry door and fell into the chaise. What an…interesting turn of events.

To watch Amelia with another man was inconceivable, yet here it was. Hugh had lain still as she’d lain upon him, and another man had kissed her. Touched her. Accidentally touched him. At some point, he would need to tell
Jackson to mind his cock and where he pressed it.

Or would he? Was this to happen again? That would mean sharing her, and he was strangely at peace with this.
Jackson had called him to help, and help he had. Hugh had done for her what he always did for her. He’d calmed her. Allowed her to take in the world without fear. Allowed her to be herself, and when she’d asked for
Jackson to kiss her—

Hugh rubbed his face in his hands. Had someone said to him this was a possibility, he would have laughed heartily. A mere hour past, in truth. He stared into the dying embers in the grate. Hugh preferred the light of the fire to the gas lamps in his town house, but they required tending to be strong enough. Much like his Amelia.

Everything in his life seemed to need a great deal of tending to.

Hugh pulled a candlestick from a nearby table and lit the wick on a red-hot ember. The candle flared to life as he stood watching it strive to burn. The flame flickered and danced, waiting for direction from it
s
keeper. Hugh held a hand in front of it to keep the air from putting out the fire and went to the desk, where he placed the candle amidst a great pile of wax. Decades of wax. Some sort of strange mountain of history in the pile of wax that had been left to build on this one corner of the desk.

Hugh sat in one of the leather chairs, crossed one ankle over his knee and rested an elbow on the arm of the chair, rubbing one finger over his lip as he watched the flame. The way it moved reminded him more of Amelia, how happy she could be, but with the stiff wind of some discomfort, she shied, melted into herself. He
’
d spend the whole of his life endeavoring to prevent that flame from being extinguished. If that happened, he knew he couldn
’
t bear it.

But now this—and he
’
d always bent to her will. What of this?
Jackson’s hand had been pressed against his thigh. The man had leaned across his leg to kiss her.
Jacks had pressed into him, albeit unwittingly. Hugh had seen the other man
’
s discomfort in his proximity, so he knew that if there was one thing they shared, it wasn
’
t a tendre of any sort for each other. It was for Amelia. It was all for Amelia and only for Amelia.

Jackson simply needed to learn to calm himself. He didn
’
t understand that his own discomfort drove hers. If he remained calm, so would she. Well, to a point anyway. At least, Hugh thought as much.

Hugh wondered then if she
’
d ever pleasured herself. He knew she was a virgin. This wasn
’
t merely obvious by her carriage and demeanor toward men, but also that she never kept anything from him. He would know if something had happened in that regard.

It had seemed to Hugh that when
Jackson touched her she
’
d been driven more by desire than whatever the malevolent force was in her head that usually caused her to spiral beyond restraint.

Could a deeper level of passion be something she could handle? If she were driven to the brink—admittedly, most women lost themselves a bit during that crisis—but Amelia, his smart, brave, ever-controlling Amelia…could she even reach a crisis?

She wound herself so tightly, controlled her emotions so fully, the level of release required of an orgasm might be well beyond her capabilities. As though in sad agreement, the candlewick waned and flickered, nearly guttered. Hugh
’
s forehead tensed, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Amelia could be taught. He
’
d taught a few women to find their own release. Not every woman even knew pleasure was a possibility with a man. Pleasure was oft times something that had to be learned, or showed—coaxed out. Requiring a level of intimacy not always readily available to newly met couples.

The candle flared, and he looked back to the flame. He was absolutely getting ahead of himself. As important as this was, it wasn
’
t necessarily something he would be charged with. As it happened,
Jackson might be the man lucky enough to lead Amelia through the discovery of pleasure. The thought rankled, but Hugh steeled himself. This was for Amelia. Everything he
’
d done always had been. He could see his way through this, for her sake. Whatever need she had. Whether that need be learning to hold a man
’
s hand or his cock.

Hugh leaned back in the chair and scrubbed his hands across his face again then stood. He needed to get some sleep. Even his brain was working against him now, and the only release he had to look forward to was the hand in his pocket.

He took the candle and stormed off to bed, attempting his level best to put Amelia from his thoughts.

The carriage rocked over the cobblestones, and Charles felt every last bump and sway to the core. He seemed to drive her in ways he couldn
’
t truly comprehend. While Endsleigh grounded her, kept her tethered to herself, kept her from falling apart. And
Ender
did it so handily.

Charles feared the way he, himself, made her feel, but he also marveled at it. She was wild, passionate. Something he
’
d never seen in her had taken over and nearly destroyed his shirt.

He straightened that shirt, along with his waistcoat and jacket, then stared out the window, the tension in his thoughts most likely evident in the way he carried himself. She looked up at him then, sitting cautiously across the carriage.

Amelia reached out and smoothed the creases at his temple, shocking them both. Quite literally, a spark caught his temple from her hand, and Charles turned to her, took her hand in his and kissed it.

“Amelia, tonight requires much thought. I must admit I wasn
’
t prepared for what happened between us. Between…all of us.” Charles watched her closely.

Amelia nodded and appeared to concentrate on the feel of his thumb making circles in her palm, even as the pace of her heart kicked.

“I…I also don
’
t know what to think of tonight. I can
’
t. Please don
’
t think I had any idea…or Hugh, please don
’
t think this was some sort of trap or—”

Charles shook his head. “No, of course not. I could see that he was just as much uncomfortable with me as I him. But for you, there is no doubt in my mind now. There isn
’
t anything either of us wouldn
’
t do.
”

And this truth was a bold one, wasn’t it?
Charles thought.

She watched him, her mind obviously racing. She blushed and Charles knew where her mind had gone.

There isn
’
t anything we wouldn
’
t do…

“Within reason,” Charles finished quietly, before turning again to the window.