Absolute Surrender Read online

  He did as she asked. He did not hold back.

  Charles waited. More patiently than he ever had. He thought as much anyway. He could not remember a time more difficult than this. He knew he’d been right to stand first and leave them, to allow Ender to explain to Amelia what had happened. He didn’t yet feel strong enough to be able to confront her, to explain himself…without stumbling over himself somehow. Particularly after this afternoon in her parlor. Just the thought of Amelia touching him—it had tied him in knots that he wanted her to unwind.

  Charles paced, the soft murmur of their conversation coming through the door lulling him somewhat. Then the murmur of conversation stopped, bringing him to a halt as well. He watched the door, but it didn’t open to him. He closed his eyes and swore he would trust in Endsleigh. Charles would trust Ender to be the man he now believed him to be. Charles would trust him to explain their decision to Amelia in a way that didn’t paint him badly. Charles’s eyes opened on the realization that no matter what Ender said, he was bound to look the fool in this situation.

  Charles shook his head and paced again. Glanced back at the door…it was so quiet. Why is it so quiet? Charles stopped and turned. Perhaps Ender had used this opportunity to his advantage. Perhaps Charles had had the wrong of it from the start. Perhaps—

  The door opened, and Ender was there, looking quite sheepish and somewhat guilty. Charles’s temper snapped.

  “Wait!” Ender shouted and raised his hands, but Charles didn’t wait. He lunged for Ender, taking him by the jacket and shoving him into the wall.

  “Wait,” Ender said again, this time a bit more feebly, the wind knocked from him.

  Charles heard Amelia running toward the door and knew a moment of terror that she would see him like this, angry as he was.

  He glanced to the doorway, telling his hands to release Ender, but they weren’t cooperating. They pushed harder. Charles saw her emerge, like a wraith, her hand resting on his forearm, pulling him away. Charles was helpless in her presence. His body bent to her bidding without so much as an acquiescence from his mind.

  He released Ender and followed her into the library. He heard Ender coughing, then the sturdy click of the door closing behind them as she pulled him to that chaise. Not the two chairs, which is what he would have assumed at this point. Two chairs, a specific barrier, the easier to keep space between them. The easier to break with him. Blood thundered in his head as she gently guided him then sat, patting the space next to her. Awaiting his decision.

  Charles stared at it, attempted to discern the meaning, then looked at her. Her lips were that rosy flush again, but this time that flush wasn’t his fault.

  She placed her hand on the space next to her, then pulled gently on his hand, silently coaxed him to sit with her, while his eyes never left her.

  Betrayed.

  It was the only word that came to Charles’s mind, like a whisper. He’d lost her, and he’d never even been given the chance for a proper fight. Charles tensed to stand again, to take Endsligh on, but her hands wrapped around his wrist to stay him.

  Charles eased and looked back to her. “Please…” Please what? He wasn’t even sure what he wanted with that plea. To turn back time perhaps.

  “Charles.” His gaze turned to hers, and she had him. “I’m quite unsure of what happens next. I imagine one, or all of us, will come away quite damaged from this. However, if you will endeavor to try, I believe in my heart that what you want will come to pass.”

  I want you for my wife

  I want nothing more than your happiness.

  I want…you.

  Ah…there it was, the promise he and Ender had made to each other. Nothing but her happiness—yet overshadowed by the truth of his want. Apparently, he hadn’t convinced his body that whatever made her happy might not include him—and that would be acceptable. Apparently, because it wasn’t acceptable. Charles looked away momentarily but was drawn back to her.

  “I have loved…” His heart stalled when he said it, and he took a deep breath. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do…to make you feel this—what I have inside me. There’s so much. Enough, I believe, for both of us. I’ve dreamed of you all my life. There’s nothing, nothing I wouldn’t do. I need you to understand this. I need—”

  Charles felt the tremble then and looked at her hands. “Amelia, are you well? He hasn’t—”

  “No…no, nothing like that. Charles, I need you to listen, because I’m trying so very hard to hold myself together. There’s no other way to explain, really, except that I feel like so many pieces of a whole and, at my best, my bones are merely stuck together with glue. Funny, that, because glue is made from the bones of—” She stopped awkwardly, shifting her gaze.

  Charles didn’t laugh, though she’d attempted to lighten the mood. He felt terrible for that, because he knew she was trying. But he couldn’t even smile at the moment.

  “Charles, Hugh explained what the two of you discussed.”

  Charles shook his head. How could he trust that Ender had been true to their agreement now? His head stopped when her hand rose to his cheek, the cool of her touch sinking into his heated, angry skin. “He did, Charles, I’m asking you to trust him, as you agreed to before I arrived.”

  Charles felt himself nod, though he didn’t truly want to.

  “I appreciate that you came to him. I know how difficult coming to him must have been for you. I understand, because I’m part of the past that drove a wedge between the two of you. I was there for all the trickery. So believe me when I say I understand the level of bravery—”

  “Why did you come here tonight?” Charles asked, suddenly needing to know. Had he been played the fool from the start?

  She shook her head. “I should have come to you first. I intended to, in fact. But something told me I needed to speak with Hugh. I needed to talk to him about you and me. You must understand how close he is to me. That he holds all my secrets. He does, and were he a woman, you would think nothing of it, would you?”

  “No, but he’s not a woman, he’s…him.” Charles hadn’t meant for the statement to be humorous, but apparently it was, because her eyes lit like a fire burned in them. That fire was beautiful, and he meant to make it happen again.

  “Charles—”

  He felt her hands trembling more and suddenly understood how difficult this all was for her. He’d witnessed, firsthand, how her emotions could carry her away, to that other place.

  “Say it again, with that light in your eyes, say my name again. When you say my name with that light in your eyes, I believe anything to be possible, and I truly need something to believe in right at this moment.”

  She shied, then lifted her lashes and looked him square in the eye. “Charles.”

  His name rolled from her tongue like the silk shift off the shoulders of a lover. Charles groaned. Then he suddenly knew what he’d said please for.

  “I need to kiss you, then whatever you tell me, anything you say, you can have the world, with me or without me. It’s yours, but first… Please, let me kiss you.” If he hadn’t been watching her so intently, he would have missed the acquiescence in her nod, because the nod was very nearly imperceptible.

  Charles’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and his hands moved ever so slowly up her arms, chasing the blush that rose with them. Gently, he placed them both on her neck, his thumbs tracing the edges of her jaw. He felt her hands reach into his jacket and pull at the fabric of his shirt, but he meant to take his time with this. This was his one chance, his one plea. This was possibly the only time he would be able to show her how much he wanted her.

  Her lashes fell, cutting a dark line across her pale cheeks. They lay there, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly not sure whether it was safe to alight.

  Charles pushed his fingers into the hair at her nape, tangling them, holding her as he closed the distance between them. He felt her breath on his cheek, then his chin, then his neck, as he sprinkled kisses across her face. Attempt
ing to calm every nerve in her, in him. Charles’s mouth brushed hers once, twice, then waited, feeling the soft puffs of her breath across his lips like that same indecisive butterfly. He took one lip between his and pulled gently, then pressed kisses to the other. When she gasped, he touched the tip of that soft pink tongue with his own. Something he’d wanted to do since the ball.

  Mon Dieu. Had that been just last night? It was, he thought, though it seemed ages ago now. As if they’d lived a lifetime together in this moment.

  Her hands clenched on his shirt, became more insistent, expectant, and he covered her mouth, delving in and drinking her sweetness. He moved one hand down her back, tracing her spine, then rested it on the small of her back and brought her to him.

  She broke then, like a wild thing untethered. He felt the spasm in her muscles that warned of a revolt, and he held on to her for dear life, because he was not about to relent. Not yet. Her hands tore at his shirt, nearly destroyed it then searched beneath.

  “Amelia,” he tried amidst their lips. “Amelia, don’t—”

  “Charles…more.”

  The feel of his name spoken against him was his undoing, TAKE, his body screamed. No amount of reasoning from his brain would stop him. “Oh God, Charles, please! The ache, please…touch me here.” She took his hand and pressed it to her breast through the corset, and his fingers wrapped around the edge of dress and corset and tugged, freeing one rosy-peaked nipple.

  “God, yes, please, Charles, please.”

  Charles closed his mouth on that nipple and drew, and she arched so hard into him they crashed against the foot of the chaise, she now on top of him, her knee firmly on his groin.

  The moment, though inopportune, gave his brain the foothold it needed to bring him back to reason. Charles took her by the shoulders and pushed them both to sitting.

  “Amelia, I—” Oh God…oh God, what have I done?

  Charles took the edge of her dress and gave it a careful yank to cover that beautiful rosy bud from his sight, then he stood. She looked terrified. By him. By what he’d done. “No, I…I beg you, I’m so desperately sorry for my behavior. I just can’t seem to keep my hands from you. I—”

  Charles watched as she appeared to hold herself. “Charles, it’s not you…or it is, but not how you think. I just—” She sobbed, and he took her up in a warm embrace, attempting to hold all of her pieces together. Attempting to calm her as she seemed to spiral away, like a whirling dervish.

  “Amelia, come back to me. Please, come back,” he begged. She pushed at him, but Charles wouldn’t release her. He held tighter. He wanted to be that glue for her. Charles wanted so much. His arms wrapped her up in him. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck. He tried, so desperately, to surround her with everything he was. But it just wasn’t meant to be.

  His head fell back, and he yelled. “Ender!”

  His voice boomed through the library, and the resounding slam of the opening door was his response. “Help me, help her, I cannot…she can’t hear me. She won’t hear me.”

  “What happened?” Ender asked as he approached. He walked slowly. He was too calm, and Charles wanted to grab him and shake him, make him see…

  “I just…I did as she asked. Then I stopped her. I…I’m not good for her,” Charles said, the words a knife to his gut.

  “Rubbish. She’s quite taken with you. It’s something else altogether. You just need to learn.”

  Ender took Amelia from Charles, and she steadied against him almost instantly. He sat at the edge of the chaise, against the arm, and pulled her close. Holding her tight—tighter than Charles thought acceptable—and speaking to her softly.

  “Hugh…Hugh. I think—I love him.” Her voice was so small. So lost in her trappings. Charles’s heart tripped to hear her declare this affection. More so because he wasn’t entirely sure of whom she spoke, considering she was so terribly distraught.

  “Quit looming and take a seat.” Ender spoke so quietly, so gently, his words starkly contrasting Charles’s tenor and demeanor.

  Charles sat at the foot of the chaise, Amelia nearly on top of Ender but between them, her skirts spread everywhere like a fan. He watched as she calmed in Ender’s embrace. Her breathing slowed and with it time. The tick of the clock on the mantel seemed to resonate throughout the room, his heartbeat the seconds, the clock sounding off minutes. So impossibly slow.

  Charles closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of his own heartbeat, knew it wasn’t racing as fast as he thought. He slowed the tick of the clock in his mind, then opened his eyes to look on them. He felt like an intruder. “I should…go,” he said.

  “Jacks,” Ender said.

  She practically launched herself at Charles then, taking his rumpled shirt in one fist as she reached back to grab Ender as well. “Don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”

  Charles nodded, placed his large warm hand over her small shivering one, tried to ease the tension in her fingers, tried to tell her with his touch that he wouldn’t leave.

  Amelia leaned back then, into Ender, and Ender shifted, giving her the pillow of his chest as he sank into the large arm of the chaise, simply holding her. Like a magnet, Charles followed as both of her hands came to his one, pulling his hand with hers, placing it square on her chest. Charles felt her heart race, so disconcertingly fast.

  “Mon Dieu, Amelia, your heart…” His voice shook.

  He let his hand open wide there, pressing into her chest between her breasts, as though to encompass the whole of her heartbeat. To will the beat to calm for him. He concentrated on the connection and felt his own heart slow. Amelia shifted slowly beneath him, turning her face up into the hollow underneath Ender’s chin, but Charles’s hand never left her. Charles forced himself to ignore the other man who held her. Put all of his effort into the tenuous connection Charles held with her.

  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 an
d 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.