Absolute Surrender Page 22

  Amelia looked at her tiny form surrounded by this man, the man who should be her husband. Charles had not run yet. Hugh had not sent him away. She had come apart in Charles’s arms and remembered every soul-shattering second of it. She tilted her head back to find him looking down at her, patiently, then his warm arms closed in, surrounding her rib cage, his hands settling on her breasts, his fingers swirling the small buds.

  Amelia closed her eyes and sank into the sensations, willing the shadows he brought with him to recede.

  What’s it feel like? she thought. It was rather like the ripple in a pond, him tossing stone after stone, and she the water at his command. And the ripples, oh, the ripples.

  It was then that she did scream. Charles’s name perhaps, or just the possibility of it, she wasn’t sure of its coherency. But he stilled, so she was quite certain it was aloud. Please don’t stop, she thought.

  She opened her eyes on Hugh, and her world centered. Hugh stood at the foot of the bed, watching, his eyes so dark, his chest bare and moving steadily up and down. She watched it move, then saw the rapid flutter at the crest and reached up to Charles behind her. She put her hand on his neck, feeling the beat of his heart as she watched Hugh’s. Hugh. She concentrated on Hugh, and her breathing steadied, the shadows receded, the fear subsided, her bravery returned.

  “I’m not sure what your intention is here. I realize you meant to…to introduce me to this, to make me…” She closed her eyes, then shook her head to clear her thoughts. “We are not done?” she choked out finally. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on something.

  The ceiling needs dusting.

  “Amelia.” The vibration against her back told her Charles had spoken before she heard her name. She smoothed her thumb across his shoulder to let him know she’d heard him, because words were beyond her at the moment. “We are far from done with you. Can you feel my heart race? This is what you do to me. To both of us.” The words were warm air across the crest of her ear.

  Her eyes closed against the spin behind her eyes, the falling, then Hugh lightly touched her feet, ran his thumbs over their bridges in tandem, squeezed them gently.

  “Come back, Amelia,” Hugh said, and she did.

  Charles’s hands resumed their work on her breasts, and she arched into them.

  “But I’m not ready. I’m not yet married, and my husband should—”

  Charles’s hands stilled, and his arms wrapped about her carefully. She was more at ease with her breasts covered and attempted to forget that her nether bits were still out for perusal, as it were.

  “I’m not yet married,” she whispered.

  Hugh spoke then. “Our intention today is not to ruin you, but to do nothing more”—the bed dipped as his knee came up and his full weight was placed between her legs—“than to introduce you”—he pushed her legs up and open, resting them against Charles’s own knees—“to passion.”

  Hugh’s hands skimmed up her thighs, and he lowered to the bed before her, his blond head sinking between her legs. He said one last thing that she thought would send her over the brink. “Oh, Amelia, but you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And he wasn’t looking at her face when he said it. The heat of a blush raced her skin. Hugh’s hand skimmed down her folds. “Soft as petals and pink as the blush on a rose.” Hugh’s fingers played, and she pushed back, her heels digging into the bed, pushing her into Charles’s chest.

  “Oh, no no no, I can’t, I—”

  “Hush, dear sweet Amelia. Remember, I have you,” Charles said.

  We will help you. We will not judge you.

  “Charles?” She was worried and clenched her eyes, the image of Hugh between her legs more than she could bear. She felt Charles’s hands on her thighs just as she tensed, and they nearly snapped shut on Hugh’s head. Charles massaged her thighs. Then his legs lowered to the bed, and he moved hers over them, resting her legs across his knees, spreading her even wider, keeping her open. Then Charles wrapped his arms around her torso again.

  Amelia was naked, and they still had their shoes on.

  Their shoes. On the bed. With her…naked. On the bed. They were all on the bed. The three of them. At least my breasts are covered.

  “Amelia.” The voice rumbled through her as Hugh dipped, and his tongue ran the length of her most intimate parts.

  Amelia opened her lungs, and she screamed.

  So inappropriate. Hugh’s mouth was on her…on me. This was beyond the pale…surely unacceptable. Surely. Surely not something proper gentlemen would do. Surely not something a proper wife would allow.

  Hugh looked up to her. “You taste so good, like lilac, honey, and woman,” Hugh said, before bowing his head once again.

  I don’t even know what that means. What does that mean?

  Charles’s hands came back to her breasts, and she screamed again, arching away from him even as he held on to her, massaging, teasing, holding and caressing her heated flesh.

  Her hand flung out, tangling in Hugh’s thick hair, but he was too far away for her to push, so she simply held on as Charles spoke. “Let it out, Amelia. Give it to the world. Nobody can hear you out here at the ends of the earth but us, and we’re here with you. We want to hear you, every bit of the passion you have, whatever you say, however it comes. Give it to us. Don’t hold back. Give us everything you have, my brave Amelia.”

  Brave.

  Her foot twitched, and Charles lifted his leg, no doubt to prevent Hugh from being kicked in the head.

  “Talk to me, Amelia, talk to us. Seeing you laid out here before me, as Hugh gives you pleasure, is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever been witness to. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you like.”

  “I…I like…”

  We will not judge you.

  She closed her eyes to concentrate. “I like the feel of…of his tongue.”

  She felt something. What did she feel? She concentrated, looked down at Hugh and realized what it was. She felt him smile against her. There. She felt Hugh smile against her most intimate parts. It was the oddest sensation.

  She’d felt him smile against her neck, against her mouth. Perhaps that’s why this was so familiar—yet so not. Then his tongue flicked out and delved between her lips, and she simply lost her train of thought.

  “Oh God oh God oh God, I can’t—” She twisted, and Charles’s arms roved. He tucked his head to the crook of her neck and sucked at her, kissed, bit her flesh then soothed it with the sweep of his tongue.

  Hugh blew a breath over her. “Amelia, there are no words for the beauty that is you. This—” He circled and licked the little crux at the top of her quim, and she shuddered against his mouth. Hugh moaned.

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

  Her other hand flew to Hugh’s head, as though she attempted to push him off again, but she found herself holding on tighter, not wanting him to leave.

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

  Nothing between us.

  She spun. Like a sudden drop, then complete darkness. She could hear muffled words, as though someone spoke on the other side of a linen closet.

  Amelia concentrated.

  Amelia, stay with me, darling.

  Amelia concentrated, but knew it was too late. She succumbed to the darkness as the wet warmth left her to the cool air of the Cliff House.

  Charles knew the second she was gone. Her body swayed and released, but not in the way they’d wished. Charles had never held her, been close to her, at the point at which her episodes took away with her completely. He saw her hands fall away from Hugh, and he lifted, shook his head, her arousal clear on his face. “It was so sudden. There was no—”

  “Just…give me a moment,” Hugh said.

  He smoothed his hands down her chest and abdomen, then back up. “Speak softly to her,” Hugh said.

  Charles brought one of his hands to rest just above her heart. Then, because he simply couldn’t help himself, he leaned in
and licked her ear before he whispered, “Amelia, my darling, my life, my love. Come back to me. Come back to us. Hugh is here. We’re both here. We haven’t gone anywhere.”

  Hugh’s hands continued to minister to her, running across her body, and he smiled up at Charles, calming him, as Charles continued to speak. “Amelia, you haven’t gone anywhere. You’re here with us, in the Cliff House. There’s no judgment here. There’s no pain. Only joy, only happiness, only love. Come back to us. We’re waiting for you.” Charles’s voice broke on the last words, and he saw her skin react to Hugh’s touch, the blush chasing the movement of his hands.

  Hugh knelt and moved closer to them, his hands lighting on her torso again, and Amelia’s chest heaved under his hands, as though her breath was the first of her to return.

  “You’re safe. You’re with us,” Hugh whispered.

  Amelia took another breath, and Charles felt his life was returned with the words that followed.

  “Why did you stop?” She said the words so quietly Charles thought Hugh could not possibly have heard. But her answer came in the return of Hugh’s mouth, his tongue, and the scream that rent the peace of the moors in two.

  Amelia’s hands returned to Hugh’s soft, blond, locks between her legs, as though nothing had happened, as though she’d never left them. Her nipple peaked beneath Charles’s hand, and he stayed the desperate need to hold her tightly against him and never let loose.

  Amelia screamed again and again, indecipherable words that included both of their names in innumerable ways, woven tightly with God and please and more. Charles was overwhelmed, overwrought, absolutely spent in the most wonderful and joyous way imaginable.

  Charles saw Hugh’s hand smooth down her thigh, below his mouth and knew when she surged forward on yet another scream that he’d breeched her, and she was spent. The racking sobs shook her body and his soul, as Hugh rode the wave of her body to the shore, then soothed her aching muscles as she relaxed across Charles’s chest.

  Hugh reached up and massaged her hands until they released his hair, then laid them on her chest. Hugh leaned back on his knees and scrubbed his hands across his scalp. Charles shifted with her, bringing her in front of him on his side. He motioned to Hugh, who crawled up the bed, pulling a sheet with him.

  They tucked her between them and let her sleep.

  “That was…” Charles’s voice was gruff, breaking at the edges.

  “Yes,” Hugh said quietly.

  Hugh faced Amelia on the bed as she curved into Charles’s strong frame behind her. Charles had his head propped up in his hand and was staring down at her with a wondrous look on his face.

  “I wasn’t sure I could do this,” Charles said.

  “You mean watch another man pleasure her?” Hugh asked.

  Charles nodded.

  “More than that,” he said. “I could see her connection to you, and what’s more, I could feel that connection through her. I—”

  “I don’t understand,” Hugh said.

  “I mean that…I could feel her calm come from you.” Charles closed his eyes and breathed slowly. “She truly needs you, Hugh.”

  “Soon she will be with only you, as it should be,” Hugh said.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Hugh stopped the hand that was caressing hers gently as she slept. Stared at it. “Charles…we did all of this so she could be with you. I don’t understand.”

  “Neither did I…I can’t begin to explain to you the feeling. I don’t even know how to put this into words. I could feel her physical reaction to your proximity. When you moved away, she tensed. When you drew near, she relaxed. When you spoke, she nearly melted into me. It was a tangible thing. It was a physical reaction. She needs you.”

  “Are you attempting to cry off?” Hugh was confused. He didn’t understand what Charles was trying to say in explaining this to him. Further, he wasn’t entirely sure Charles wasn’t simply looking for excuses to be done with this situation. Perhaps he couldn’t manage the three of them, but it was a temporary arrangement. They both knew that.

  Charles’s eyes clenched, and his hands drew to the bridge of his nose and pinched as his hand shook. His entire arm shook. As Hugh concentrated on the slight movement, he realized the whole of Charles shook, as did the bed they all lay upon.

  Hugh wasn’t sure what to do.

  Charles still hadn’t answered him.

  “Charles,” Hugh said again quietly. Charles didn’t respond. “Charles, you must marry Amelia. It’s what she desires above all else. But more than that. She belongs with you…Charles.” Hugh reached out over Amelia, placed his hand on Charles’s forearm, not gently—because that would have been awkward—but not so strong that he would jostle Amelia between them. “Charles.”

  Charles’s hand dropped to her shoulder then swept down her arm and rested around her waist, his hand taking the sheet and fisting it. Charles dropped his face to the crook of her neck and seemed to just breathe of her. Hugh’s hand found her hip, below Charles’s, and he waited for Charles to speak.

  “She belongs with me,” Charles said finally. “But she belongs to you. I…you belong with her. You should always be at her side. I cannot come between you. I will not come between you.”

  “Charles, we’ve only just begun to settle this whole matter. We cannot possibly go back again, change everything we agreed on…”

  “Then find another solution.” Charles paused. “There isn’t one, is there?” he asked, full well knowing the answer would be no.

  “Her father will not allow me to marry her. He’ll not allow us to be together,” Hugh said, then shook his head. “Regardless of my position in her life…she’s meant for you.” Hugh attempted to control the timbre of his voice so as not to disturb Amelia, but the control was becoming more difficult.

  “If I step aside, if I cry off—” Charles tried, but Hugh cut him off.

  “You will ruin her! None of this will have mattered!” Hugh tensed, attempted to rein his anger again.

  Charles shook his head. “Then help me figure this out. I will never be for her what you are for her. And I won’t…I can’t…take that away from her. It’s part of what makes her whole,” Charles leaned into her, pulled her close. “I don’t want pieces of this woman. I want all of this woman. Without you…” Hugh watched as Charles breathed deep of her, seemed to hold on as if to the last thread of his lifeline. Charles looked as though he was saying good-bye, and an answering pain sounded somewhere in the vicinity of Hugh’s heart.

  If ever Hugh had a doubt about the honor of this man, he repented for that now. Hugh would see Charles and Amelia married if it was the last thing he ever did. Amelia deserved this man. She deserved this unwavering strength. She deserved to be loved, the way Hugh could plainly see that Charles loved her—whether Charles was aware of it or not. Hugh knew that this was what Amelia wanted for herself. She wanted to be with Charles. More than anything else, she wanted to be Charles’s wife. Knowing how difficult her illness was for her, how much she would face and need to overcome, Hugh knew, more so than any person in the world, how powerful her need of this man was. To face these difficulties, she needed Charles’s strength.

  This was her choice. Charles was her choice, and Hugh would see it done. There was no other solution to this.

  “Charles, I need you to keep the faith. We are not yet at the point at which either of us can leave her. We both knew this would not be easy. The truth of it, the physicality of it, is obviously more difficult than I believe either of us expected. But we’ve begun this. Have some faith, for her sake. Please give this a chance. Please let us finish what we’ve started.”

  Amelia heard their words penetrating her dream, ever so slowly.

  I cannot come between you.

  It was disturbing at first, since she was dreaming of the two of them to begin with…but not quite in the way they were discussing here in bed. Well, they were in bed as well, but not—

  She twitched. Just a quick
shake of her head to move the thoughts along, to stop the circling. She opened her eyes slowly to find Hugh watching her, silently smiling. After a time, he spoke to her.

  “You were dreaming,” Hugh said.

  She brought her hand to her cheek to wipe some wetness away. Had she cried? She watched Hugh’s expression sadden, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the words that had seeped through her semiconscious state.

  None of this will have mattered.

  I will never be for her what you are for her.

  I can’t…take that away from her.

  It’s part of what makes her whole.

  I will not come between you.

  Her eyes popped open and found Hugh’s. She knew why Hugh was sad. “Where is he?”

  “I’m here,” Charles said quietly, from just behind her.

  Funny, that. He was right there. She was burrowed into the lee of his form, and she was so comfortable there that she hadn’t even realized he was a separate person. Her heart picked up a beat to know it. Would that she could make this comfort with Charles happen at will. She wiggled into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest behind her, his legs cradling hers, her head pillowed on his arm. She reached out to Hugh and pulled him close as well, his body curving around hers, his head resting against her chest.

  Her fingers played in Hugh’s curls as she thought about the words they’d spoken around her, then her mind shifted to her tombstone. What would it say?

  Here lies Amelia, between two mostly naked men.

  An improper young lady.

  A disappointment to her mother, and London in general.

  And she realized…she simply could not be bothered to care.

  “Can I tell you what I want?” She spoke to both of them as she stared at the ceiling.

  Hugh nodded against her chest, as Charles’s deep voice acquiesced.

  We will not judge you. They’d said that earlier, and she hoped it still applied.

  “I want for you to touch me. Again,” she said.