Of course, her mother was annoyed that someone so new to her had stood with her—You have only just met this Maitland girl!—and her maid—her maid! It was simply unheard of. But Amelia had insisted. Even her father had been there, something she’d not truly expected. Charles held her father’s secret closely. He decided knowing her father wasn’t quite the invalid he had always professed would come in handy at some point, say, when they needed another ally.
Amelia was still settling into her suite of rooms, adjoining Charles’s and across the hall from Hugh’s. As for Hugh, his rooms were next to Maitland’s, of course, and Louisa happily set up her things in a nursery adjoining Maitland’s room.
Charles had started renovations in a closed wing of the Keep. He said he had some master plan for the older section at the back of the main castle. He wouldn’t share his plans, insisted it was all to be a surprise. Charles had also secured the town home in London adjacent to his. Amelia thought anyone would believe this odd, but Charles insisted, “They won’t, because there is nothing to be concerned about.” Or, alternately—when he was of a mood—he simply said that he did not give a damn for their opinions.
Charles was truly seeing to everything he said he would. Straightforward, one step at a time, with great care and regard or, at times, simply will and want. The caution they held helped Amelia, because she was frightened to be with them again.
The fact was, they hadn’t yet had a wedding night. The last time they were all together…well. As well, she had yet to be with Hugh, which tore at her heart a little. She avoided contemplation for the most part, and Charles and Hugh accepted her distance as her need to be familiar with her surroundings, to recover from the chaos, to settle into her new life—
“What a beautiful sight.”
Amelia’s skin tightened, and she turned to see Charles standing in the doorway to her sitting room. “Three lovely ladies enjoying an afternoon tea.”
Amelia felt heat suffuse her skin and rush her face, and she closed her eyes to steady her racing heart. Just because in her mind she was being careful did not mean her body had agreed to follow suit.
Amelia lifted one hand and steadied when he caught it, drawing it to his lips as he lowered himself next to her on the settee. After a time of nothing but feeling his hands on her, his lips on her, his body crowding her, she opened her eyes to take in the sight of Charles—just in time to see him lean toward her, his hand wrapping around her neck and drawing her mouth toward his.
Amelia stood suddenly, her gaze sweeping the room, and Charles followed. “They took their leave…something about knitting,” Charles said.
The pretense of knitting was becoming all too much. At some point, they would need to buy some yarn and needles. Certainly.
Amelia shook her head and turned back toward him, but he was closer than she’d thought. Charles pressed along her side. Every bit of her length, from the floor to her shoulder, was in contact with a bit of him. When she turned, she bumped straight into his chest. His large, warm, solid chest. One she’d seen naked. Touched naked. Felt rub against her as he…she nearly choked.
“Amelia, we’ve been waiting…” Charles let the words drift away as his hand came up, his thumb softly caressing her chin. She closed her eyes and nodded as he turned her toward him, framing her face in his palms.
“As have I. I realize…oh, I do realize. But then I think of Hugh and what he—”
“I know you’re frightened,” Charles said.
It was lovely to hear the words of her mind spoken by someone else. It was pure magic that she no longer had to explain herself. To anyone. She simply was, and that in itself was the greatest gift of all.
Amelia caught Charles’s gaze then, wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed. “Please believe my hesitation has naught to do with you, or with Hugh even. Merely that the situation itself—”
“I understand, Amelia, I do. One man and one woman, so simple, and look what we’ve done. You couldn’t even take something as simple as marriage. You had to even turn that on its ear.”
Amelia shuddered, and his hands slid around her, holding her face to his, their foreheads resting together. He was close, so close, so very, very close. He whispered until she felt his breath across her skin, and it settled her nerves.
“I also understand how difficult it is for you to simply live, without considering, deconstructing, investigating, and piecing every little thing that happens. I just want for you to know”—his thumbs smoothed across her eyebrows in unison—“that when you’re ready—”
I’m ready I’m ready I’m ready, she thought as he placed a kiss at the edge of her mouth.
“When you have at last pieced this one final thing”—Charles drew back until she could see into his eyes—“I’m here for you. Until then…would you like to go for a ride? I thought perhaps we could head to the Cliff House for a day.”
Wait…what?
Charles let go and took one hand as if to lead her away.
Charles’s bright smile caught her off guard and released the bobbin of tension that was winding through her heart. She wanted to be with Charles again, and with Hugh—she truly did. She wanted to make love with Hugh as she had Charles. But all the silly details…Charles had said it best. He understood, as did Hugh. It was in that understanding that she found a measure of peace and perhaps a place to momentarily hide.
“Come, let’s be off,” Charles said. “I left Hugh a note to meet us there when he returns from his manor.”
Amelia hung the sheet on the line, per the ritual. The first thing she did when she arrived at the Cliff House was the laundry. Regardless of whether it needed to be done or not. Charles had gone into the house. He said he was going to straighten a bit, make some tea. Charles knew she needed a little time to herself, to reconcile how she felt. She hadn’t been back to the Cliff House since Hugh had left them here. Left her here.
Hugh left me.
She tried to shake the thought off.
Hugh left me.
That’s not what I’m going to do.
Her hands released the sheet on the line, then as she reached for a dry sheet to wash, she shuddered. She felt the vibration keenly, through her fingers, up her arms, down her spine—all the way to her toes.
One breath in.
One breath out.
That’s all you need concern yourself with.
One breath in.
One breath out.
Amelia pulled the sheet to herself and inhaled the salt tang of the sea as her muscles tightened. The skin of her fingers paled as they clenched on the fabric. This place had always been her haven, but at the moment all she felt was the cavern of her chest, her heart lost inside, because Hugh had abandoned her here.
Maybe she was wrong to think this a good idea. Maybe it was too soon. Perhaps she would never be able to return here and not feel this. What if…what if she’d been robbed of all her memories of this place because of one day? One day, and one night, without him.
Amelia pushed her face into the loose fabric and wiped away the tears. She didn’t want Charles to worry, and while he knew how to help her, the episodes still made him quite nervous. She took the corners of the sheet and flung it out before her to release the wrinkles. The fabric sailed to the ground, and she smiled—just a little. She snapped it back up, then snapped it in midair, but it didn’t float to the ground this time.
“Hugh.”
He caught the opposite edge and held it. “Amelia.”
“You’re here?”
“Of course I’m here. I—” Hugh’s face fell a little, and she was taken momentarily guilty by the words. “I’m here,” he said finally.
“I’m glad of it,” she returned. “I’ve missed you terribly.”
“We’ve all been quite busy, as of late,” Hugh said.
“Yes. We have…” Amelia froze, trying to force her mouth to speak the words her heart held. “Why is the world so different out here? Out here—” She stopped herself.
“I was frightened. I never thought we’d be the same.”
“I had that same fear, Amelia, after what I did.”
“I thought perhaps that my feelings about the Cliff House would change as well.” She watched as his hands tightened, then Hugh started to draw her toward him, his fingers wrapping up in the linen of the sheet.
“And?” he asked.
She allowed him to pull her. “And what?”
“Have your feelings changed?” Hugh took another fistful of fabric.
“I…am unsure, only that I realize just how strong they are.”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again, for quite some time. Oh my love, my love—” Hugh’s voice was low, gritty.
It caused a ping of electricity to shoot up her spine, and she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “I—” Well. She’d thought she’d more to say than that.
Hugh narrowed the gap between them.
This sheet is entirely too large, she thought, but then he yanked, and she fell, and he caught her up mid-stride, his hands holding her ribs as his mouth came down on hers so very hot and wanting.
Hugh lifted, and she wrapped her legs around him. It was like coming home, and she finally breathed. No…no, she didn’t merely breathe. This was the first breath after a long absence of pure air. It was the first step after being released from a prison. It was the first drop of rain after a drought.
“I have hungered for you, Amelia. I’ve been desolate without your touch. I need your love, Amelia. I need you. Touch me, please, feel how I tremble inside, for you. Oh God, Amelia, I need for you to touch me.”
“Hugh,” was all she could manage as she put her hands to his chest and tore at his clothing, sending the buttons flying in all directions. She sank her hands in, around him, and held on.
“I need you, Amelia. I’m so sorry for my betrayal. You’re everything to me. Forgive me. I love you.”
“Yes. Yes.” She felt his arms wrap around her like a vise and welcomed it. Then he moved, swiftly, toward the Cliff House.
“Charles!” Hugh yelled, but he wasn’t concerned. It was a greeting.
Amelia couldn’t be bothered to care. Hugh was here. He was here with her, and she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, finally. The last piece to the puzzle. She could not get close enough to him. She held on to Hugh, the last vestiges of her sadness evaporating as he stormed toward the Cliff House.
She could hear him whispering in her ear, surely attempting to soothe her. It wasn’t working. She could feel a void, deep and insistent, and she needed it filled. By Hugh. They rushed through the entry and straight to the far wall, without so much as a pause.
She felt the hard surface of the wall against her back as he pressed her up against it, his hands roaming, and Amelia set to her task of getting this man naked. More buttons—gone. Cravat—gone. Jacket…stuck.
“Amelia, pull it back on. Just leave it. I need to be able to touch you. I need…I need to kiss you. I need so much.” Hugh’s arms, stuck as they were at his sides, still held her waist, balancing her as he pressed her against the wall, doing exactly what he said he’d wanted to do, parting her lips with his own, and with more of a demand than a request, he sucked her tongue into his mouth and proceeded to undo the fall of his trousers.
Amelia wrapped her legs about his waist again as he shifted her skirts. She felt his hands test her, and she was wet. She’d felt it before he had. He thrust into her, and she broke away from him, her head falling back against the wood panels of the wall.
“OhGodOhGodOhGod!” she screamed as she held on to his shoulders for dear life. This felt like a reclamation.
“Oh my love, my love, my love. Amelia,” Hugh breathed against her chest.
She felt the wall shudder and shake behind her, the glasses neatly sorted on a shelf next to her shoulder vibrating closer to the edge, and certain disaster, with each thrust.
Her tension from the impending crash heightened her sensitivity, and as her arm flew out to push the glasses back, her passion broke, and she cleared the shelf with the jerks and shudders of her climax.
Hugh followed quickly, leaning into her, the weight of his body pinning her to the wall, holding her there. His arms steadied them for a moment, then he flattened his hands on the wood panels behind her. Just breathing of her.
A few minutes of heavy breathing and reassuring words later, he moved his hands beneath her thighs. Hugh looked up at her, and his face seemed to open, alight on her gaze. “Amelia, you’re…with me,” Hugh said.
A slow smile broke across her face, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course I am, Hugh. I’m right here with you, just as it should be.”
Hugh looked down at the mess of broken glass about their feet and tightened her legs about his waist, then held on to her and straightened. He pushed the shards about with the toes of his boots as he turned and walked carefully to the center of the room.
“Well, hello to you as well,” Charles said.
Amelia flushed, and Hugh blanched as they swung toward him as one.
“Hello,” she said.
Charles came over and hugged Hugh with one arm and drew her into a kiss with the other, wrapping it around her waist.
“I apologize for being a fly on the wall, but you gave me little warning,” Charles said with a smile.
“No, I don’t suppose we did,” Amelia replied.
Hugh laughed. “I, uh…” He placed Amelia carefully on her feet, adjusting her skirts. She watched as Hugh tucked himself away, buttoned his trousers and turned with a grin. “Apologies. That must have felt awkward for you,” Hugh said, a question in his voice.
“Surprisingly, no,” Charles replied. “Though perhaps a bit of jealousy, excitement and a touch of arousal may have crossed my mind…and my trousers.”
Amelia was shocked by his words as she gazed at him, her hands reaching. Reaching. She was more than happy to help him with that.
Five Years Later…
Amelia waited nervously on the bank of the pond, Tristan cuddled in her lap and Alexander by her side on the bench. She remembered the day she and Charles had first come here, their first outing. In some respects, it seemed only yesterday. While in others, it was so very long ago.
Not far away, Louisa and Maitland were chasing Kathryn, Gabriel, and Alice along the banks. The children’s laughter never failed to calm her nerves, even as she worried about what could happen. Amelia had been working with, in her estimation, a brilliant psychologist by the name of Clarke. He’d helped her so very much in the past few years, and her attacks, as they’d decided to call them, because that was how she felt at the time, had lessened for the most part. She still did have them. She still very much needed Hugh and Charles to help her at times, but for the most part she felt so much more whole than she ever had. As well, Dr. Clarke had helped to rid her of most of the need to collect things, which was an incredible relief to her.
Amelia took a few deep breaths to rest her mind—the children are perfectly safe—then looked back to the water. Has it been too long? Should someone see to them? It seems that it has been entirely too—a whoosh of water and splashing stopped her internal maundering, and she stood, Alexander taking her skirts with his little fists and holding on. Tristan snuggled deeper against her chest as though nothing had happened.
“I am the champion!” Charles yelled.
Amelia smiled, watching as her men splashed as they moved toward her. She could hardly believe they’d found the thing.
“I call foul!” Hugh shouted in disagreement.
“You may have spotted the blasted thing, but I did the actual rescuing of it,” Charles said.
“You never would have if I hadn’t seen it, as covered in muck as it was,” Hugh replied.
“Ah, yes, Hugh you always were better at locating frogs than I was!” Charles shoved him playfully, and Hugh launched back, the both of them disappearing momentarily in the waist-deep water before erupti
ng once again.
“Now you’ve gone and lost it once more. Well done,” Charles grumbled as he turned in the water, searching the bottom of the pond at his feet.
Hugh dove in, then launched from the surface with a great shout. “Now I am champion!”
Not for long, however, because Charles deftly tackled him back to the water.
This is going to take a while, Amelia thought. She sat back on the bench and curled her fingers through Alexander’s dark blonde hair as he wrapped his arm around her leg, through her skirts, then stuck a thumb in his mouth, watching as his fathers tossed about in the water.
“Aren’t they silly, Alexander?”
“Papa,” he replied, pointing at the tussle before them.
“Yes. Papa,” she replied with a smile.
He looked up at her then and smiled back as he popped his thumb in his mouth again.
“Mama,” he said quietly.
The word tugged so hard, her heart knocked in her rib cage in revolt. He was such an incredibly dear boy. Amelia leaned over and kissed his forehead.
“Yes, my sweetling, I’m your mama.”
He giggled in response, then turned to the shouting and playing that grew suddenly louder. Tristan stirred against her breast, his little mouth opening and closing like a fish against her blouse, searching, and she knew they were running out of time.
“Charles…Hugh…I must be returning home!” she shouted, hoping they would hear her over the ruckus they created. Good thing this had been an early trip to the park. Certainly they would have gathered crowds at this point with the melee.
“Charles?”
He stopped and turned to her, and his face lit up. Then Charles ran as best he could through the water toward her, water splaying from his careening body like the wings of a bird.
Absolute Surrender Page 37