Absolute Surrender Read online

  “Amelia.” She looked at Hugh when he spoke. “We’re here to help you. You wish to marry Charles, to be his wife and his duchess, to carry his name and title, to be responsible for his household…his nursery.” Hugh paused, and her mind churned through the words.

  Wife.

  Duchess.

  Nursery.

  “We’re here to see to that.” This, this deep gruff voice, belonged to Charles, and she felt it reverberate against her back as much as she heard it against her shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”

  She caught Hugh’s gaze as he was in front of her, then his gaze drifted past her, and she knew he and Charles were silently considering the moment.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “Amelia, Charles and I are going to show you what passion is. We’re going to bring you to a crisis. We’re going to drive you beyond every emotion you’ve ever had, to bring this part of you forth that you’re so very afraid of. We’re going to do this here, in the safety of the Cliff House, because this is where you feel safest. I’m going to be with you the whole time, because—” Hugh swept a hand down her chin. “I know…I know, Amelia.”

  She dropped her mouth to speak, but he waved her off…knowing she was going to attempt to avoid this. “And I know we’ll not be disturbed because your staff doesn’t come here unless it’s requested of them. We are safe here.”

  With that, he shattered every objection she could have possibly had. Every objection any reasonable person could have had.

  “I would never ask this of you,” she said quietly.

  “You never have to,” Hugh said.

  Silence. There was so much silence. This was what she wanted. They wished to help her. She wanted to marry Charles, and this was a way to get past…whatever it was she needed to get past.

  “What…exactly does that mean?” The words were nearly a breath instead of a statement. A voice rumbled behind her, and her heart kicked against her breast.

  “We’re going to touch you,” Charles said. “Intimately.”

  The word was deep and moved through her blood like laudanum.

  “Our hands, our mouths, our tongues…your body. We’ll come to know each other as God intended…with nothing between us.”

  Her mind raced.

  Our.

  “Our?” Her voice was breathless.

  “Like we did at Hugh’s house, Amelia, only…more.” As Charles said it, his chin brushed her temple, his whiskers like sweet sandpaper against her skin.

  More.

  Maypole.

  Her favourite quarters…

  All my animal spirits…

  That tender part of me…

  Lay in ruin…

  Lay in ruin…

  Lay in ruin.

  Amelia closed her eyes and attempted to quiet her mind, but Charles’s heat was sinking into her, carrying the words from his tongue.

  We are going to touch you.

  Our hands, our mouths, our tongues…your body.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said quietly.

  “You can do anything you wish, touch anything you want, and we’ll help you. There are no rules here. We will not judge you,” Charles said.

  She was truly dizzy at that, and her knees weakened.

  Hugh stepped closer, crowding her infinitely, and the pace of her heart reacted. It calmed as they paused there, as if waiting for her acquiescence. If they gave her too long, though, her mind would have off with her and…her hands tightened on Hugh’s lapels and pulled him forward. Hugh’s gaze snapped back to hers before her lips took his.

  This.

  Charles’s hold tightened on her waist as though to pull her away, but instead his heat sank through her wet clothes as he gathered himself forward, nudging her books aside with the toes of his boot. She kissed and kissed and kissed and lost herself to the feelings. Hugh’s mouth was warm and wet, familiar, and the hands on her waist were warm in equal measure and, surprisingly, familiar.

  Her hands grasped Hugh’s shirt and waistcoat, popping the buttons and laying waste to his fashion, then they traversed the hot countryside of his chest as she had explored Charles’s in the gardens. The hills and valleys that made up Hugh’s own personal landscape. She could do this with him. In some fashion, she’d always wanted to touch Hugh, to explore his man’s body, but she’d always held back. That wasn’t something for friends.

  Forbidden.

  The word came to her unbidden, and she paused, saw the edges of her vision fade only slightly, and she forced it back, shook it off.

  There are no rules here.

  She concentrated on Hugh. He vibrated under her touch, the groans adding more to his movements. She affected him. That simple knowledge spurred her on. She wrapped her hands around Hugh then and let the vibration sink into her chest, her nipples hard as pebbles, her corset scraping his chest. His arms moved, his hands coming up to frame her face, then…

  Blue serpentines of its veins…

  She had to see. She had to know. And here Amelia was caught between…between…a steel rod and a maypole.

  She giggled against Hugh. She simply couldn’t help herself. Then the chests, both of them, loosed around her, and the heady, unsure laughter of all three of them once again filled the meadows.

  Amelia watched as Hugh removed his coat, then rolled his sleeves. She turned within the warm circle of arms, and a shiver rushed her spine from the wet frock starting to chill her skin. Once she was against Charles’s chest, she tilted her chin up and up until she placed a kiss in the hollow of his jaw, just under his chin, unsure. Her hands followed, scraping across his unkempt face, and she smiled. Then there was tugging at her back, and she looked over her shoulder to find Hugh undoing the buttons of her simple gown.

  Charles moved his hands to her wrists when her hands tensed on his jaw, nearly giving him eight tiny gashes from her fingernails. He pulled them together then down between them, kissing her fingertips as they passed his mouth, drawing her attention. He placed her hands on his chest and set them to fidgeting with the length of his unbound cravat to give them something to do.

  Charles looked into her face, her expression wary, concerned, and with every bit of himself, he wanted to allay her fears.

  “I want this,” he whispered.

  Amelia’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Gently. He needed to do as Hugh had instructed, to keep part of her mind busy with trivial things when perceptibly difficult things were happening—such as the removal of her clothing. Charles had never attempted a conversation at such a time, and his mind panicked to find a topic.

  Then he closed his eyes and breathed of her, of the fresh air of the moors, the salt tang of the ocean beyond the cliffs, the lemon that had somehow accompanied her last meal, and the lilac that was always so prevalent with her.

  It seemed stronger today, the lilac, and Charles looked around at the yards of fabric.

  “Soap,” Charles said quizzically.

  “Soap?” she questioned. “Really, Charles, cryptic one-word statements are my foible. You should find your own oddity with which to annoy society.”

  He couldn’t help but smile and laugh. “You always smell of lilac,” he said as he drew her closer. “It’s in the soap. I only just realized.”

  “Yes, the laundress makes the laundry soap by hand because my skin is sensitive.” Her voice was unsteady as Hugh pulled on her trappings. “She uses only natural cleansers and adds the lilac. It’s quite prevalent here at Pembroke. The lilac is.”

  “It’s wonderful.” Charles held her gaze as her dress and corset slipped between them, then unable to not look, as he was a man—a man quite in want of this woman—and he knew, he knew, her breasts were just there. He skimmed his hands down to her shoulders and looked.

  The taste of her came back to him in a rush of sensation, but he stayed his impulse and caressed her arms as the dress slid, the heavy corset fell, and wit
h great difficulty he looked back to her eyes.

  Charles could see her concern. As perhaps they all should have been. But…whatever happens…happens.

  Charles realized that he wanted to be first in all things. As an explorer sets his flag in uncharted territory, it was his flag he wanted to plant on all aspects of her introduction to passion. He felt that realization in the tension that had begun to wring his muscles, and he fought momentarily to stay it, locking his gaze with hers as the two of them swayed in whatever it was Hugh was doing with her skirts. Charles dared not consider it.

  “You are so lovely,” Charles whispered. “So very lovely.”

  The smile she bestowed him would be forever burned in his memories of this place. With that in his heart, he believed himself strong enough to check Hugh’s progress. Speedy, this one. Her chemise rode low across her shoulders, her soft breasts peeking out over the neckline. Her dress was nearly gone, as were the petticoats that supported it. She was down to her underthings and this brilliant smile that truly covered her in ways no clothing ever could.

  Her eyes closed, and she shivered.

  “Don’t…Amelia, open your eyes and look on me.”

  She did, and her shivers stilled.

  Charles ran his thumbs over her eyebrows, then pushed his fingers into her hair and kissed her once again.

  Her legs bent as Hugh nudged them so he could remove her boots and her skirts could fall away. But they also hesitated of their own volition, pushing against his hard thighs, as if finding a place of their own to be soothed.

  Charles wanted to touch her everywhere, to wrap her up in himself and keep every inch of her body in a soothing and safe place.

  He pulled his hands down her back, then wrapped them about her waist, picking her up and carrying her toward the laundry tub. “Step in,” Charles said quietly.

  He placed one hand on her thigh, easing her leg up. It slid against his trouser-clad leg, then slipped into the warm water, a small sigh escaping her mouth against his. Once steady, the other moved. Charles saw Hugh’s hand on her, guiding her in. Charles held her steady against the slippery water of the wash tub, as Hugh took up covering her with sheets of water, which splashed back to the tub, to the ground, to his very person.

  Amelia held on to Charles as the sensations from Hugh’s actions rippled over all of them, then Hugh stilled at his masterpiece. The fabric of her shift and drawers slicked tightly to her figure, the water rushing down her form to spill again around them all. The fabric was thicker at her hips, from the dual layers of her drawers and chemise, but thin, and inviting, down the middle, where the separation of her underthings left a void Hugh quite wished to explore. He knelt beside the tub and slid his hands up her ankles, then looked up at Charles.

  “You have her?” Hugh asked quietly.

  “I have her,” Charles responded.

  Hugh turned back to his work, sliding his hands farther up her soft legs, beneath the chemise, gathering the sodden fabric on his forearms as he moved up and up. When he reached her buttocks, his hands paused, then slowly, carefully, his thumbs skated over the bare flesh of each of them, sending a shiver to course her spine.

  I have her.

  The words stole into his head, and Hugh closed his eyes. Anything for Amelia. Anything, he thought.

  She responded to his touch, and then his movements as Charles held her tighter in his arms. Hugh nudged one of Charles’s hands, the one low on her waist that covered the back of her drawers, and Charles moved his hand slowly away, granting him access.

  Hugh reached around her waist, insinuating his hands between them to grasp the ties of the drawers. As he did so, layered so closely between the two of them, his knuckles brushed the evidence of Charles’s arousal, and he paused, catching Charles’s gaze over her shoulder.

  They silently exchanged apologies and understanding in that glance. They knew this would happen, had discussed it at length in the carriage on the trip to Pembroke. They’d come to a clear understanding, which required a great measure of trust on both their parts. They had to brush aside the discomfort to prevent Amelia feeling any from them. If this was to happen. If this was to work.

  This was truly the point of no return, and while the touch he bestowed Charles was entirely incidental, without purpose, and unavoidable…it was contact. Hugh’s knuckles bent, pressing against Charles’s cock and abdomen, as he grasped the ties and pulled the bow loose, sliding his hands from between the two of them, then returning to finally untie the knot.

  It seemed as though it took forever, when in reality the time he’d been between them had to have been mere seconds. Charles’s hips pressed into Amelia as soon as Hugh’s hands were free, and Hugh rested his hands momentarily on her hips, taking a single, strengthening breath before his hands moved the fabric of each leg of her drawers, and he smoothed them down her hips, bringing them off. He urged her to step out of them, finding her legs rather more pliable then expected and realized Charles truly did have her, supporting all of her weight on him.

  “Charles.”

  Had the breeze moved another direction, he may not have heard her quiet plea to the other man, or the answer that followed.

  “Amelia, I have you, we have you. Don’t think, just feel. We have you,” Charles said quietly.

  Hugh watched for a moment as Charles nipped, licked, pressed and tasted her. It shook Hugh to his core.

  Anything for her.

  Hugh stood and smoothed the arms of her chemise down, as Charles moved his arms to allow his access. Hugh’s hands skimmed the smooth skin over her rib cage, paused at the nip of her waist and then, with another deep breath, he pushed the chemise down to her hips, leaving her upper body fully unclothed but for the drops of water on her skin and the other man wrapped around her.

  Hugh stood momentarily, just taking her in, this woman who’d grown from the girl of his best friend. He took up a serviette from the basket and wetted it, then wrung it out on her back, following the water that coursed her spine. He knelt again, and dropping the napkin in the tub, he ran his hands up one smooth leg, playing at the edge of her stocking, feeling the difference between the silk of the stocking and the silk of her skin.

  He loosed the tiny bow and slid the stocking down, only to repeat the maneuver with her other leg. This time, as his hand slid up her inner thigh, drawn to the heat of her very core, his hand swept gently across the smooth pink lips he could see peeking out. He saw her hips push back at him to allow more access and knew then she wasn’t steeling her control, but allowing her body’s response for the moment. That response was magical, it was wondrous, and he had never felt more accomplished in the entirety of his life.

  He was overwhelmed by the moment, the reality, something he’d never thought to witness. And witness he did Charles’s hand, slipping down her back to cup one of the sweet globes of her bottom, pulling her closer to him possessively. Hugh’s breath halted. He nearly choked on it, and Charles’s gaze moved to him.

  This was it.

  Amelia felt. Simply felt. It was the simplest explanation, really. She did nothing else. Her back curved, her hands held gently against Charles’s warm chest. She was naked as the day she stood in. Well, nearly.

  She kept her eyes closed.

  Her heart was full.

  There were hands on her seemingly everywhere. There was a slight breeze, but the bright of the sun cut the chill of it, warming her skin even as the goose bumps rioted against it.

  Charles held her, supported her with one strong, solid arm around her waist, his fingers spread against her side, lifting her up. His other hand…his other hand was warm on the round of her bottom. Squeezing and stroking.

  Charles’s hand is on my bottom. On my bottom. I can feel his hand on me…on me. Hugh’s as well, though Hugh’s was of less concern to her, except that his hand was there at the same time as Charles’s, or perhaps it was there…because of Charles’s.

  Charles’s hand shifted slightly, and she panicked. Charles…
is touching me. Charles is touching me. Charles…

  Amelia’s mind swirled, and she tensed, attempting to ward off the coming deluge of emotion. She knew where that feeling led. She always knew where it led. That feeling, that swirl, always led to the same place.

  The same damned place.

  The loss of control, the darkness that spreads, the complete failure of her mind—

  “Amelia.”

  She felt more hands moving on her, up her back, but not Charles’s hands. His hands still held her to him.

  Hugh.

  She breathed deeply and opened her eyes. These were Hugh’s hands, and they calmed her, as they always did. She was grateful.

  “Stay with me, Amelia. Stay with us. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. I have you… We have you,” Charles said.

  Amelia shook her head and closed her eyes again. Charles couldn’t be witness to this…this. Charles had never been a true witness to what happened once her tethers broke loose and she lost her mind to the dark. That cold, shuddering place that wrapped itself around her and wouldn’t let go. A deep, swirling terror, nothing to hold on to, no anchor to the world. The fall from herself…

  “Hugh.” Her voice broke on his name. She heard it. She knew how her voice sounded and expected Charles to back away again, like he had before. Speaking his name put Hugh between them, like in the gardens. He would always be between them. The pain of it manifested behind her breastbone, spread like a flood to her limbs.

  “Amelia, he’s here, he’s with us. Hugh isn’t going anywhere, and…neither am I. Look at me, Amelia. Open your eyes,” Charles said.

  She didn’t…instead, she tightened her hands on his lapels. If Charles saw the crazy in her eyes right now, he’d leave, and she’d be truly lost. She wished for Hugh, and as an answer to that whispered prayer, she felt the full warmth of his body against her back. Warming her soul. Hugh’s mouth against her ear stilled her heart’s raucous cadence.