Absolute Surrender (34 page)

The bed shifted, and Hugh knew Charles stood, so Hugh followed suit to break the moment, perhaps to attempt to regain his composure, certainly to prevent himself from
rising
once again. Hugh grabbed his ruined shirt from the floor and wiped himself clean before replacing the fall of his trousers. He turned to find Charles pacing, stiffly. Charles was yet the only one of them without release to this point.

Serves him right, let his bollocks twist a bit,
Hugh thought.
Tossing me in front of a moving train like that. As it happens, I
can
come in the presence of another man.

Hugh looked on Amelia, who studied her hand. Her brows were drawn together in confusion, but she
’
d never looked more beautiful than at this moment in her flushed, mussed state.
He loved her.
Truly.

Hugh stood, looking on her, and the realization that this was far from friendship hit him like waves on the shore, each one breaking across him larger and harder than the last until he knew he stood there aghast, arms akimbo, his fall buttoned crookedly, his jaw hanging open like a child’s.

He
’
d always known he loved her, but he
’
d never allowed himself to accept it.
Crash
. To truly feel it.
Crash.
He loved his best friend.
Crash.
He had to let her go.
Crash.

Hugh may have whimpered then.

He turned to Charles, who was watching him. “You understand now,”
Charles said.

Hugh felt his head shake,
more
than he felt that he
’
d caused it to do so.

Charles nodded in response.

Amelia watched them both carefully, pulled herself to sitting, curled up in the sheet against the head of the bed.

Charles turned and paced again. “I should go. I should let the two of you…do what it is you will do. I need to go,” Charles said as he looked around the small cabin, most likely for his clothes.

“You
’
re not leaving her,” Hugh said as he turned on Charles.

“We discussed this,”
Charles said.
“She needs you.”

“She needs you as well! You
’
re not thinking straight because you
r
bollocks are in a bind!” Hugh yelled. The windows shook at the force of his voice, and Charles turned the full height of himself on Hugh, who drew himself up as well as they faced off. Charles lowered his chin as Hugh went on, “You cannot do this to her. If you wish the very best for her…that
’
s you. I should be the one to go.”

They were fighting about who was to leave her. Good Lord, had it truly come to this? A complete turnabout? The tension in the Cliff House soared, and Amelia wasn
’
t going to sit by and listen to them discuss her, yet again.

Charles shook his head. “I
’
m leaving.”

Hugh moved closer to him. “If you go, I go. If you stay, I stay.” The statement sounded like a threat but that the last of it Hugh said quietly.

Amelia wasn
’
t entirely sure of the silent message that passed between them, but could feel that they were communicating beyond words in the way they stared at each other.

Charles looked at Hugh then, more silence passing between them. Was she going to be required to get used to this? This silent intercourse? As if the communication they had about her, around her, wasn
’
t bad enough, they managed to communicate without her even when she
was
present.

“Listen, you both need to stop this pointed staring. You
’
re unnerving me,” Amelia said.

They both looked to her, and she shrank. That wasn
’
t exactly what she’d had in mind.

“Perhaps some tea?” she said quietly.

Hugh turned to Charles. “
Have faith,
” Hugh said, practically begged, then he rested his hand on Charles’s shoulder and held it for a moment before he turned to the kettle. Hugh moved the kettle over the grate, stoked what was left of the fire from earlier in the day and stood.

“I need to get some more firewood,” Hugh said. “I trust you
’
ll both be here when I return. The woodpile is just behind the house, after all.” He seemed to be attempting to break the mood with idle chatter. He put his hands on his hips when no one responded, shook his head, then turned to the door and walked out.

Amelia looked at Charles then. He was staring at the door, and his intensity served to unnerve her further. “Charles.” She said his name quietly, tightened her grasp on the blanket she held to her chest. “I…want to be frank with you, but I
’
m frightened.”

Charles turned to her, appeared to consider something, then pulled up a chair and sat. She relaxed a bit as his large frame melted into the chair, his presence much less overpowering to her.

Charles looked at her as though to tell her to continue. He seemed frustrated with her, and she thought she understood why. “I know this is all very…difficult,” she said.

Charles nodded but said nothing.

“I believe, in my heart, that if you learn the things that Hugh knows, that I could be the duchess you need.”

Charles didn
’
t move.

“I think, at this point, Hugh believes the same. If he didn
’
t, he wouldn
’
t be helping you…
helping us.
”

“I understand that…now. I believe I understand more of the issues at hand, having been witness to them…finally,” Charles said, and Amelia nodded.

She knew that her mother had kept this a secret from him as much as possible out of the fear he would not take her to wife if Charles knew the truth. Amelia realized, by his tenor, that he was frustrated at having been kept away.

Charles continued.
“
I don’
t necessarily believe that what you have with him will transfer to me…that what he does can be learned. Amelia, the only happiness I remember as a child was the time I spent at Pembroke-by-the-Sea. You know my life has been one of discord, difficulty, but I don
’
t think you realize the level of joy I gained from simply
seeing
joy in you. I did not know how to be happy, and I believed that I could learn joy from you because it came to you so naturally. I was always told to ignore my feelings, to learn outwardly, not inwardly. So I thought to learn to be happy by watching you. Even if I couldn
’
t learn…I wished to bask in the glory of your happiness, because it was so freely given.”

Amelia stilled. She
’
d known his childhood wasn
’
t the happiest. Charles wasn
’
t raised by his parents as much as by the servants of his household. His father was distant, and then he was dead, and his mother was emotionally unavailable. How must it have been, as a young boy, to have nobody? She
’
d had Hugh, and without him—her heart knocked against her ribs in violent retaliation on the thought, then her vision narrowed, the edges darkening. If she
’
d never had Hugh…

No, not now, please not now
…

Amelia closed her eyes and took a stilling breath. Hugh was close by, just outside. She lifted a hand toward the back of the house as though to feel his presence. Then she looked at Charles. He was here as well and wanted nothing more than to be with her. She breathed. Sank into the blankets and pillows on the bed.

Hugh…if there
’
d never been Hugh, she would have been forever lost.

She would have had nobody. She would have been so very alone.

Like Charles had been alone, completely alone.

Alone alone alone
.

And he had been so small. He
’
d reached out to her…and been denied. If Hugh had denied her at such a moment—

But. He. Never. Had.

The spin and the dark of her illness began to crash in on her.

“Amelia—”

She realized she hadn
’
t said anything, Charles had just laid his soul bare before her, and she had closed herself off. What must he think of her now? She had to at least say something.

Say something!

Her eyes popped open. “I believe I understand what that kind of loneliness would feel like. If I had not had Hugh—” Her voice broke and swayed. She should not have voiced this, but she considered this much too late. Her head spun. She didn
’
t want to think on this. She
’
d had Hugh. She still had Hugh. She wasn
’
t rewriting history merely by speaking about this. “If I had not—”

This feeling isn
’
t real. I have Hugh. I
’
ve always had Hugh.

Her arm flung to the side, meeting the bed, to steady herself.

Charles moved toward her, wrapped his big arms around her, lending her his strength. She sank into him but knew it was too late.

“
Amelia, don
’
t think on it. I should never have—”

“No! You should have. You most definitely should have. You should have. Most definitely. These are the discussions you spoke of, these are the things I wish to know of you, I want to know you. I do want to know you.”

Please don
’
t think I don
’
t wish to know. I do
…
I
wish to know. I wish to know everything, as if you
’
d been there, as if I
’
d lived it myself.

“
I wish you
’
d not been so very alone.” Her arms wrapped around his and held on. “I want to know you, I do. Please don
’
t think that you can
’
t speak on difficult things. Please don
’
t think you must tiptoe around me. I simply need an anchor. I—” She was spinning then, truly spinning. Her mind had latched on to the loss of Hugh and made that loss a tangible thing to her.

Amelia
’
s eyes closed, and her head fell back against the heavy wall of his chest…

You were so very alone.

So very alone.

Alone…

“Hugh!” His worried yell was the last thing she heard for a while, because when the darkness came that time, she was truly bereft of all safety. In her mind, Hugh was gone—as if he
’
d never been. The feeling of loss was complete, and she was met with a bleak emptiness.

“Amelia, sweet, sweet Amelia.” Amelia heard the heaviness of Charles’s boots on the floor, like the beat of her heart, and his pacing steadied her. Hugh held her as Charles
walked.
They didn
’
t speak to each other. Perhaps they
’
d learned how much it unnerved her. Perhaps they were following her wishes.

“Charles.” Hugh said his name quietly, then the bed swayed beneath her, and he was there, she between them again—the warmth, the safety, the strength enveloping her.

“Amelia, I—” Charles stopped himself. He didn
’
t want to say something again that would have that effect on her, no doubt. He
’
d said so much, and what he
’
d said had opened her eyes, while closing them. She
’
d felt his pain,
literally
felt his pain as her own. She took that pain into herself and couldn
’
t stop it. She allowed the tears to run her cheeks, hot, wet streams of that sadness pouring from her soul.

Amelia reached out to Charles, took his hands and brought them to her chest, close to her heart. “You were so very alone, and we…we were not friends to you. We should have been friends to you. You should not have been left so alone.”

Hugh
’
s hold tightened on her waist, his arms like a steel vise around her.

Charles released one of her hands and swept the tears from her cheek. “Amelia, open your eyes.” His breath was soft against her chin, close, warm, comforting. She did as he asked.

“I find it simply amazing and beautiful that you
’
re so powerful, that you could feel my pain so many years later. I find it to be wondrous and incredible that you have a heart big enough to encompass not merely yourself, but all those around you. You are a miracle to me.”

It wasn
’
t nearly what she
’
d expected to hear from him.

She gazed into his eyes as they came closer, then his lips met hers, and the kiss was warm and strong, and in it the loneliness receded and vanished like smoke. Something that was never tangible to begin with was gone in a simple breath. Charles spoke without separating their lips.

“You are the strongest person I know, to be able to do this,” Charles said as his mouth moved over hers. “Please know that I
’
m here to share this with you. You never have to face that kind of pain alone. Hugh is here to share this with us as well. You never have to feel that kind of loneliness. That kind of loneliness is behind us. The pain is behind all of us, because we have each other. We will always have each other.”

She wrapped an arm around him, pulled him closer, closed her eyes, and fell into an exhausted sleep in the safest place she knew, between her men.

When next she woke, the sun was peeking in through the back windows, and Charles was holding her, his hands languidly roaming the curves of her backside, while his mouth languidly roamed the curves of her front side. She smiled against his crown, and he pulled back to look at her. “
Good morning, beautiful,
” Charles whispered, then he kissed her. “Hugh is just outside. He believed we needed yet more wood and perhaps more blankets and sheets.” The door opened.

“As well, a basket with eggs, bread, cheese, biscuits, fruits, a…few other things,” Hugh said as he returned, closing the door behind him.

“Is that so?” Charles asked.

“Louisa would have brought me a basket this morning. She—” Amelia looked at Hugh. “Does she know you
’
re here?”

Hugh nodded. “Someone needed to. Otherwise, it wouldn
’
t have been safe. Servants’ orders or no.”

Amelia nodded against Charles’s
chest.

“There
’
s tooth powder, towels, and warm water just outside,” Hugh said.

Amelia looked up at Charles. “Go on, you first,” he said.

Charles sat up and pulled his shirt from the chair it was flung across. “Here, put this on,” Charles said as he pulled her up before him, still warm in the sheet. Charles wrapped his shirt around her, letting the sheet fall from beneath the hem as he buttoned the neck, pulled her close for another warm kiss, and steered her toward the doorway.

Amelia pulled the door closed behind her and moved toward the little space Hugh had made for them outside on the table. So much had happened yesterday.
So very much.
Her eyes had been opened to pleasure, and she wanted to feel that again at the hands of these men.

So many hands.

She washed her face and used the tooth powder on her finger to clean her teeth.

She used the cup and rinsed her mouth, then took up one of the small towels and doused it, unbuttoning the shirt that Charles had only just buttoned. She washed herself with the warm water, realized she was listening for their voices. When she heard the rumble of them, she gathered closer to the window and concentrated. They spoke of breakfast, eggs, coffee, tea—warm things that sounded so good to her at the moment. Her belly rumbled, and she realized just how hungry she was. They hadn
’
t eaten any supper last night before they’d slept.

Amelia knew it was too much to ask that they not consider the future. Everything they did here was in preparation for that future, and if they didn
’
t know what it was…well, what were they doing? She knew Charles was her future in the same way she knew her corset was worn over a chemise. It required very little thought. It merely was. It was the question of Hugh that sent her into a panic. She did not know how to live without him.

She would have Louisa, and Hugh had taught Louisa well, as he was now showing Charles. Yet it still wasn
’
t the same. Though she wished it to be, there was something in her that settled with Hugh
’
s very presence, a bone-deep knowing that everything was all right as long as Hugh was there. She wasn
’
t sure how long it would take to feel that with Charles, and in the meantime…

Amelia looked out over the moors, let the soft breeze wash over her damp skin. Here she was, so very improper, standing at the edge of England with only the great sea as a witness, nothing on but the scent of Charles in his shirt.
This is all so very inappropriate.

She grinned then turned to the house for breakfast. She was determined to embrace this…this impropriety. Because, for as long as she
’
d been concerned with being proper, it had done her no good.

Hugh slid the iron skillet over the grate, the eggs nearly done as Charles watched helplessly.

“Nothing?” Hugh said.

Charles shook his head. “No. I wasn
’
t allowed to even wipe my own arse, much less touch something that could injure me,”
Charles said.

“Fire cannot injure you unless you fall upon it, and this one is contained below a grate, for the skillet, so even safer than an open fire,” Hugh said.

“Even still,” Charles said quietly. “It got rather tiring watching my servants play with my wooden soldiers for me.”

Hugh turned on him, though crouched as he was before the fire, the move was more of a swivel. “What the bloody hell were you going to injure with wooden soldiers?” Hugh asked.

“Put an eye out on a bayonet, I imagine,”
Charles grumbled.

Hugh laughed, then raised a hand apologetically. “Pardon, Charles, it
’
s only laughable as it
’
s so unbelievable and there
’
s nothing to be done about your childhood at this point. However, as I remember, you had a governess who followed you around everywhere…”

Charles grinned down on him. “We aren
’
t going to speak on my governess, and the rest is of no issue. It
’
s long past at this point, and I agree, there
’
s nothing to be done about that past.” Besides, that past no longer bothered him. Charles wasn
’
t that small, lonely child any longer. He had grown not merely in stature, but in the security of who he was. Still, he wasn
’
t keen on taking a ribbing from anyone about it. And Charles made sure Hugh understood that fact well in the delivery of his decree.

Hugh stood and scraped eggs onto the plates. He put the skillet at the edge of the hearthstone, then pulled the kettle from the fire. “Coffee or tea?” he asked.

Charles looked at the coffee biggin and the teapot, then back to Hugh. “I
’
ll take coffee…if you know how to prepare it well.”

Hugh smiled and poured water into the teapot then set the kettle on an iron pot holder. He handed Charles a small tin cup, then pointed at the grinder on the wall next to the hearth. “Hold the cup below the spout and turn the handle.”

Charles turned and looked at the contraption suspiciously. The grinder was a can with a lid and a big spindle crank on the front. Charles put the cup under the spout and turned the crank, quickly filling the cup with coffee grounds. Charles inhaled deeply. “Oh, now that is wonderful,” he said. He turned to Hugh, quite proud of his accomplishment.

Hugh laughed. “Now place the grounds in the top half of the biggin. There
’
s a linen pouch hanging in there.”

Charles did as instructed, then watched as Hugh poured the hot water over the coffee grounds and placed a metal plate over them. “Now we wait.”

Hugh closed the lid and patted Charles on the shoulder as he stared at the coffeepot. The hot coffee grounds smelled delicious.

Charles startled a bit when the door opened, and Amelia walked back in.

“There are such lovely scents pouring out from in here, my belly was complaining,” Amelia said as she closed the front door.

Charles turned to her and froze. He
’
d expected to see her in clothes, for some incomprehensible reason, and he was struck once again by her mien in naught but his shirt. Amelia stood there in the morning light from the window across the room, her body outlined in his large white shirt. Charles ran a hand down his naked chest as if in response to that vision, as though he could feel her inside his shirt where
his
chest should be. Charles watched as her nipples peaked and realized from that that he was regarding her rather thoroughly.