Absolute Surrender Read online

  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 its 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 impo
rtant 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.

  So I do have limits. How could he not?

  “I’m frightened,” she said quietly.

  That was the second time he’d heard that word from her tonight. Charles nodded. “As am I.”

  He hoped his agreement helped to alleviate some of her fear. If she knew that she wasn’t alone in her feelings… “It seems this mating dance, or courting, as it’s so formally called, has come to be much more than a mere inspection to determine if we would suit. It’s become a determination of whether we can suit. Amelia, I must be blunt, and hope that this doesn’t overtax you. You understand that isn’t my intention, do you not? I don’t mean to disturb you or cause an…an episode. I want nothing more than to prevent such, in fact.”

  She nodded again. “I’ll endeavor to keep myself together, perhaps concentrate on the facts, as opposed to the emotions. I’ll attempt to think on the discussion as though it were a scholarly example as opposed to my personal life.”

  “Do you think you’re able to?” I’m not so sure was left unsaid. Ender isn’t here to save you was also unspoken. The thought disturbed him.

  “I’ll attempt it, for you. I’ve become quite practiced at keeping myself together. The episodes come on under certain circumstances, certain situations, or around you at times. You seem to be a circumstance unto yourself…but I’ll attempt to put another barrier between us.”

  Charles cringed. “This isn’t at all what I want for us. I don’t want for you to have need to construct barriers in order to merely converse with me. Those barriers take much more effort to bring down. I…perhaps we should leave off for now.” Charles was exhausted, and he wasn’t sure what he would do should she have an episode. Though if something did happen, perhaps his newfound knowledge could be put to the test. Perhaps he could help her, at least somewhat. And hadn’t that been the whole point of the endeavor with Endsleigh? To learn how to help her?

  No time like the present, Charles thought.

  “No, please, just, go slowly. I’ll let you know if we need to stop.”

  Charles gave a single, stout nod, then looked at her, leaned forward on his knees and took her other hand and massaged it as well. “Amelia. Intimacy is of the utmost concern to me.” He held her gaze and waited. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed slowly. He ignored the way her breasts pressed up from the confines of her corset…well, not so. He took note of them, then forced himself to continue. “It isn’t merely my duty to the crown, but that I do, quite desperately, want to be with you.” So his thoughts were to color his words then. Quite vibrantly.

  Charles watched as her pupils dilated, and she swayed in her seat toward him. Her hands melted a bit into his, and he wondered if these signs led to an acquiescence or an episode.

  He leaned in, whispering, deepening the connection between them. “I want to touch you, kiss you, to make love with you.”

  He swallowed, wishing he could leave off at that but needing to be heard. He dropped his voice as low as he could and still be sure she could hear him. “Without the fear that I am somehow causing you great harm or distress.”

  His mouth grazed her jaw, and he spoke softly against her ear. “This is of paramount importance to me.”

  Her breath stopped against his cheek, and he looked back into her eyes, saw a tear escape, which he caught on the pad of his thumb. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you feel my want of you.”

  And now Charles cradled her face in his giant hand, at the perfect angle for a kiss.

  “I want this, as well,” she whispered, letting him support her weight. “Please, just hold me for a moment. I don’t think I can bear much more from your mouth.”

  Well, then.

  Charles laughed a bit, then wrapped her up in his arms and held on. Listened to her breathing, felt her pulse as he fit her neck against his, resting her head on his shoulder. She was all right. He had been frank, bold, straightforward—and she was all right He marveled at the thought. Hopefully, tomorrow they could try again.

  Amelia breathed of Charles.

  Strong.

  The word resonated. She could rely on Charles. Trust in him to support her. There was just something about him that wound her up like nobody ever had before. True, she lost control of herself on occasion. Said things she shouldn’t, did things she shouldn’t. But with Charles she felt different. He forced her control to slip with just a look, and she allowed it. As though he wanted to be so deeply inside her as to be part of her…and she wanted this as well.

  She had some semblance of this with Hugh.

  Hugh.

  Hugh was so much a part of her that she was often shocked to find him a separate being, not merely her internal conscience or guard. But standing next to her, lending her his safety and control. She wanted him as well, that sereneness. That extreme sense of peace that washed over her whenever he was close. She coveted the space between them as they’d lain together tonight, Hugh providing his safety, his support, while Charles had driven her to the brink of insanity.

  Amelia knew that to be the destination with Charles. That was her fear. That letting go with him would ultimately drive her insane. She wasn’t capable of pulling back from such freedom of mind, of body—without Hugh. She’d never been able to.

  And being with them together? That was an impossibility. She wasn’t sure how their predicament had come about tonight. Possibly they had all been so frightened of losing each o
ther that all propriety had gone to the wayside. But that couldn’t happen again. She breathed deeply of Charles, the cotton and man, shifted deeper into the crook of his neck.

  Even being close to Hugh tonight, kissing him, she had still been very well controlled, comforted, safe. But kissing Charles?

  Kissing Charles. Kissing. I kissed him, and he me. His mouth was on me, everywhere.

  The thought overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth on the pulse in his neck, licked, then laid a wet, open kiss there. Twisted her hand in his rumpled shirt. God, he tasted good. She filled her mind with Hugh to calm herself as Charles pulled back to look in her face.

  This way lies insanity, she thought, then she closed her eyes, once again overwhelmed. She couldn’t think of Hugh and look on Charles. It wasn’t right.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” she said quietly. Wishing that wasn’t the truth.

  “Amelia, it takes everything in me to keep myself from you. But I will, for as long as you need this of me. Because I can see, very readily, that in our joining you aren’t able to be with me. You become so lost. So frightened. I don’t want you frightened. I want you with me. So please don’t take any of my future actions as cold, or heartless, but I feel I should warn you. I cannot be so forward with you, physically, because I fear damaging you.”

  And then something Hugh had said whispered in the back of her mind.

  He doesn’t want to force something on you that you are unable to do, that would somehow damage you further.

  Damaged.

  She pushed herself away from him. “You see me as damaged.”

  “No, I see you as…I’m not sure how to put this into words, Amelia. I don’t believe there are yet words with which to describe what it is you are. I don’t see anything about you in a negative fashion, and yet every word that has been used to describe your actions is negative. Therein lies my greatest challenge.