Absolute Surrender (43 page)

Amelia didn
’
t move. She didn
’
t soften, and it frightened him. Charles wished to keep her as close as he could and threw aside what Hugh did for her, taking her into his form. Charles’s arms wrapped about her like a vise, held her everywhere, caged her in and held her as tight as he could to his chest. He leaned his head in to surround her completely. He tightened every muscle he had mastery over. Charles held on—even as his muscles complained and started to vibrate—he refused to release his hold.

Finally, he felt her hand tighten on the blanket at his chest, and he opened his eyes. Her breathing was slow and deep, and she nestled into him, curling her toes against his thigh. She
’
d moved to sleep. It seemed to him that it had taken much longer than usual, but here it was. The change happened as he
’
d held on to her as though he
’
d never release her. Charles finally breathed, kept her close, and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the chair.

Every single one of his muscles complained. Charles was spent, beyond measure, as he
’
d never been in all his life. Sleep would do no harm at the moment, since there wasn
’
t much else to be done, so he allowed it to take him.

Charles watched his wife sleep, the waning light from the sea shattering the darkness in the Cliff House with brilliant light. Charles had moved them both to the bed at some point in the afternoon, when his legs started to cramp, and he knew she wasn
’
t going to awaken soon. He looked around them at the quiet of the Cliff House and understood what she loved about it, the simplicity. It was so easy to be here. One room for everything, instead of one room for each thing.

Perhaps he could disassemble the house and have it moved to the grounds at Castleberry Keep. There they could live happily in the tiny one-room home, undisturbed until they were both safe and sated. Charles didn
’
t believe that time would come soon for either of them. Particularly since he was terrified of intimacy with her at the moment. Charles had no idea how he was to manage this.

He could see her mind working. It never seemed to quiet even as she slept, and he was mesmerized by it. The ideas that flitted across her features…if he could only hear but one. Perhaps one day she would share with him.

Charles moved a strand of her iridescent hair from her face, and she shook her head. “Shhh,” was all he said as he tightened his muscles around her, and she settled back into his arms quietly. He was concerned, because she had been sleeping for hours. He knew she was exhausted after—everything—but he’d honestly thought she would have been lucid by now.

“Charles.”

It was a whisper of a breath, but it meant the entire world to him to hear his name from her. Charles didn
’
t mind at all being a pillow for this woman. He didn
’
t mind at all that her hands were still clenched upon his sides, as though they belonged there.

He did mind when she then called
his
name.

“Hugh.”

Charles tensed.

Her eyes snapped open, and she drew in a sudden breath.

“Is it not who you expected?” Charles asked quietly.

“No, I...it
’
s not the who but the what. Well, it is the who, as well as the what, is what I should say. I mean—”

“Amelia.”

Her eyes caught his, and she smiled so brightly it stole his breath and took it straight out the window to set with the sun.

“I was dreaming of Hugh. He was quite angry with me,” she said with a frown that Charles wanted desperately to kiss into oblivion.

“Why was Hugh angry with you?” Charles asked, restraining his own displeasure with Hugh. It wasn
’
t for her, after all.

“Because I married without letting him know. You,” she said quietly. “I married you, and he was not there as a witness.”

“Truly?” Charles asked. She seemed so sweet, so young suddenly. It was disconcerting.

She shook her head. “Hugh should be a witness.”

“Amelia, he was a witness,” Charles said carefully.

She watched him, and then as if their entire stay was replayed in her mind, he watched as her features went from happy, to frightened, to sad, with nearly every other emotion in between. Then he watched as she clutched the quilt against her chest, closed herself off to him.

“Hugh is gone,” she said finally, and the weight settled on them, reality back from wherever it had been while they’d slept.

Charles closed his eyes and rolled to his back. “Amelia, believe me when I say I would chase the man to the ends of the earth and drag him back screaming if it was what you wanted of me. But I fear it is not what he wants.”

“I know.”

“Amelia, when are you expected back at Pembroke?”

She shook her head, considered. “Sunday afternoon.”

“Tomorrow?” Charles asked.

“Unless you must return, we have the night,” she said.

Charles was concerned with this statement. Much could happen in one night. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“We—” She stopped abruptly, didn
’
t finish the sentence, though from watching her he was fairly certain she
’
d finished her thought. “No time like the present. I
’
m sure they
’
ve brought some dinner. It
’
s most likely outside in the box.”

“I imagine we must be together, alone, at some point. However, today has been rather…difficult. I wouldn
’
t wish to tax you.”

Charles was already concerned. She wasn
’
t acting herself. She
’
d just gone from childlike confusion to not caring that Hugh had abandoned her. Perhaps her mind had broken. Perhaps this reality was one she simply couldn
’
t manage.

“Charles, we do this or we don
’
t. There
’
s no more Hugh. We have no options. It
’
s us or nothing, and we both know what nothing means for me, so I
’
m quite well determined to see to this. You brought me back, Charles. You did. In fact, in what was possibly one of the most painful experiences of my lifetime, you were there for me and did exactly as you should have. It doesn
’
t look as though I
’
ve damaged anything here.”

And now she was perfectly lucid, reasonable. Not at all his Amelia. “No, you did not. You merely collapsed. I didn
’
t touch you…I waited for it, for your mind to fade or…something else. I didn
’
t want to startle you. I only wanted to reassure you.”

Her eyes seemed to look past him out the window. “That
’
s not what I
’
m going to do,” she said quietly, and Charles knew. She looked back to him, and Charles felt a pain in his chest as though his heart had tripped on a stone and attempted to right itself. He truly wished to not speak of Hugh for a while.

“Amelia, you
’
re truly brilliant. I still wish to know everything you
’
re thinking…”

“I wish for that as well. I mean, when one thinks, often it
’
s quite possible that everything will be thought of at some point. Though I do wish at times that thinking would cease, particularly when I
’
m tired. I do grow tired, and it would be so wonderful if my mind would cooperate and be quiet for me.”

“You mean to say your mind never stills? Not ever?” Charles remembered this Amelia, the one who rambled. She had done this when they were younger. She would go on and on about something, and the subject would change as rapidly as the words flowed. It had been mesmerizing, and he realized he
’
d missed this side of her. She must have trained it out of herself to prepare for the
ton.
He looked back to her and concentrated on her words again.

“
No, I don’
t believe it does. I believe my mind goes about its business regardless of the situation. It
’
s quite distracting, really. I would so like to be at rest. I mean, not asleep but just...content. It seems like it would be such a nice thing to be content.”

“Well, if that
’
s what you wish, then we
’
ll find a way for you to be content,” he said simply.

She looked up at him then. “Well, St. George, I thought I
’
d not see you again so soon,” she said with a smile. “I
’
m afraid I
’
ve no reticule for you to battle, though tossing one into the waves of the ocean from the cliff might well be dramatic enough. No geese to frighten, however, I
’
m afraid
…”

Charles cleared his throat. “There are teachings in other cultures that promote inner thought and the control of it. Perhaps we could start there?”

She nodded, and her hands grasped his sides rather suddenly, making him jump.

“I
’
m sorry,” she said.

“No, Amelia, I
’
m simply a bit sensitive where you
’
re holding my ribs.”

“You
’
re ticklish?” she asked. Her eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light.

“Now, I didn
’
t say that, exactly,” Charles replied nervously.

Her eyes went round as the setting sun just over the horizon, and he felt her fingers vibrating with the urge to test her newfound knowledge.

“Amelia,” Charles warned stoutly as his arms moved to hers.

Her fingers relaxed, then brushed his sides, and he jumped again.

“Amelia!” Charles shouted as he grasped both of her arms awkwardly and attempted to fend off her attack.

“You are ticklish!” she shouted as she pushed him over and straddled his thighs.

Charles bucked beneath her, trying to throw her off, but the strokes of her hands coupled with the tensing of his muscles hindered his movements terribly. He let go of her arms and grasped her hips then, truly attempting to arrest her movements. The sun shifted outside, and a beam of light caught across her eyes, and she ducked, stilling.

“Hugh left me,” she said quietly, her eyes in the distance.

“Yes, but that
’
s not what I
’
m going to do,” Charles replied, pulling her down to his chest, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

She looked up to him, and her eyes cleared.

“Do you have clothes?” he asked. “Something not destroyed? I would like to take a walk on the moors.”

She nodded and smiled, but it wasn
’
t the brilliant one he
’
d hoped for. It was a start, however.

Hugh threw his head back against the tree and closed his eyes toward the sun, breathing deeply as he took in the moment of solitude in one of the most glorious places on earth. He would never feel the same about this place. He would never feel the same about anything. He resolved to never return.

Hugh had fallen asleep leaning against the tree as he’d waited to make sure Amelia was okay. As much of a coward as he was, he could not yet abandon her without knowing she would be well. But his exhaustion from the sleepless night and this morning caught up to him as he rested in the warmth of the day.

He dared not approach the Cliff House, but assumed they were doing well, since he
’
d not heard anything, and neither Charles nor Amelia had left. Perhaps he was lying to himself, perhaps he was still here because he needed to see her again, one last time.

He realized that seeing her after what he’d done may be his true end. He stood and turned to leave. When Hugh heard the laugh, he startled, tripping as he turned back toward the Cliff House, and scrambled behind the tree to hide. He scanned the expanse of the moors.

The crimson slash was like blood through the trees, her thin shawl carried away on the breeze. Charles started to move toward it, running to catch it before it was carried out to sea.

Amelia
’
s laugh carried on that breeze toward Hugh, taunting, calling to every nerve in his battered soul, and he leaned into the tree, his fingers digging at the bark as though to stay himself.

Charles caught the sash, then turned and ran back to her. Charles lifted the fabric and wrapped it around her shoulders, then rubbed softly, possibly to lessen the goose bumps that had no doubt formed on her arms from the chill breeze.