Duty to Love

by Morgan King

  Amelia resumed sucking his cock eagerly.

  Arthur felt as if his soul was in danger of being consumed. He was trusting Amelia with every part of himself, holding nothing back. He'd never felt free to be so uninhibited. Her easy acceptance of his instructions in the bedroom gave him a primal satisfaction that no amount of power as earl had given him before.

  With a fierce shudder his seed burst forth, and with it he fed his soul to its mate. Amelia drank him down.

  They all three lay collapsed on Arthur's bed.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia woke to sunlight, bright enough to hurt her eyes. The room was still dim. She had just managed to be lying in the path of light created by the gap between window-frame and curtain. As her mind struggled to assert itself she became aware of stiffness pervading her limbs and a slight chill along her skin. Her body was positioned awkwardly, and there was no cover over her.

  As she stretched, her foot brushed against something warm and hairy. Startled she looked down. At a slight distance, but decidedly next to her, lay Arthur. Moving to gain some space she shifted on to her side and back. Her bottom pressed into something warm and hairy. On the other side of her, no longer at any distance, lay James.

  She remembered.

  If she hadn't remembered she wouldn't quite believe it. Making love with two men. It was beyond anything she'd ever even imagined before. It had felt so right, yet lying in bed between two men, one her husband, the other therefore her lover, the haze of arousal was gone, and Amelia feared she'd erred

  She wasn't normally the sort to reflect on choices already made and carried through. The very act of doing so gave rise to a sickness in her heart. Was it right to love two men?

  Moving with restrained haste she crawled to the edge of the bed. She desperately didn't want to wake either man, and spent a few anxious moments searching for her nightgown. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she hastily tugged it down her body before moving across the room to the dividing door.

  Stepping into her room just served to intensify her discomfort. She felt so out of place within herself, and nothing around her was helping to remind her of who she was. Where were her clothes? She should call Mary to help her get dressed. It wouldn't be the first time, but it rankled that she was without choice. As a countess was she never expected to dress herself?

  Amelia wasn't used to feeling the weight of others’ expectations. How she could possibly live up to them? Hadn't she already failed? She only had to think of her family finding out how she had willingly spent the night with her husband and another man, and a sense of failure consumed her.

  She had to get away from this room that wasn't hers, this house that wasn't hers. She rang for Mary.

  A few minutes later Mary knocked on the door tentatively.

  “Come in.”

  Mary sneaked a glance towards the bed, not so surreptitiously that Amelia didn't notice. Was she expecting to find Arthur in the bed? Were they supposed to have slept in her bed?

  “Where's my water? Where are my clothes?” She didn't think she'd ever been so short with anyone, but she’d never felt so unsure of herself before. So unprepared to live her own life. As Francine’s younger sister, not so pretty, not so biddable, and less likely to marry well, little thought had been given to preparing her for marriage until Francine’s death.

  At first she had been a little angry with Francine for leaving her, leaving her alone, leaving her to step into someone else's wedding dress. Now she just felt the loss of her sister’s presence in her life. Someone with whom she could talk over feminine concerns and who could help steady her nerves.

  Arthur and James had put her in this position. She needed to be able to think over everything that had happened without them trying to influence her. She needed some breathing space, to get away from everyone else but herself, whom she needed to confront.

  She didn’t want to forever be allowing other people to choose what was best for her. Marriage, and even a relationship with both Arthur and James, was a fresh opportunity for her to determine the direction of her own life.

  Washing and dressing rapidly she dismissed Mary, who had fetched her water and laid out her clothes in silence. Then she descended the grand staircase—there was no way to avoid it. She could, however, creep through the back kitchens to her destination. Cook murmuring, “Morning, Miss,” to her even made her smile. Maybe she was still that young miss and not the Lady she should have been addressed as.

  Upon reaching the stables she went in search of a horse to ride, only to find her own horse, Snail, looking at her over a door, frisking her head from side to side and snorting with delight upon seeing her mistress.

  Years ago she and James had chosen the name to vex Arthur who thought animals, even pets, should have serious names, like his own horse, Hunter, or like Thor. Snail was not only a frivolous name; it was a deliberately ironic reminder of the speed at which Amelia loved to ride. Amelia had intended to rename her horse Horizon or Horry for short, but by then it was too late. Snail had stuck.

  She nuzzled her face into Snail's neck, stroking his mane in warm greeting. Arthur must have arranged to have him moved to his stables even before the wedding. It shouldn't have surprised her. He was always thinking of others. His every gesture to her was filled with caring. Whatever her feelings she couldn't possibly regret being his wife.

  ****

  Arthur woke slowly, his mind drifting between memories of Amelia naked, and the possible benefits to opening his eyes and seeing Amelia naked. After a little thought, he opened his eyes.

  It took him a minute or two of blinking, rubbing his eyes, looking around and assessing the situation before he started to panic. Of course, he would never expect or demand to know where his new wife was at all times. It was just that she had chosen to leave before either he or James awoke, and what might have driven her to do so worried him. Unlike him, she had not awoken keen to expand their new-found intimacy.

  His morning erection died an instant death.

  Should he wake James or just go and find her? He had no intention of leaving her alone if she intended to brood or was having second thoughts. Neither he nor she was in the marriage alone; they were in this together. With James.

  “James, wake up.” He gave his brother a sharp kick. Army life had clearly not changed his sleeping habits.

  “What?” James sat up, instantly scrabbling for coherent thought.

  “Amelia's left us, and we need to go find her.”

  “Left us? No, she can't have done. What did you say to her?”

  “Calm down. I didn't say anything to her. I've only just woken up myself. And she's not here.”

  “Maybe she's just seeing to her early morning. . .” James clearly had to search for the right words, then gave up trying to find them. “You know.”

  “No, I would have noticed if she'd only recently left. Look, I'm getting dressed to find her, even if it's at the breakfast table. This just doesn't feel right.”

  “All right, all right! I'm coming.”

  A quick search of the dining room, followed by the other downstairs rooms open for regular use, proved fruitless.

  “The kitchen?” asked James.

  “Wait here.” There was no way they could both go trooping into the kitchen without it appearing decidedly odd. It was bad enough he was clearly looking for his wife.

  Arthur could see that Amelia wasn't in the kitchen as soon as he opened the door and all activity ceased. He'd turned on his heel when cook spoke “Miss Whitmore came in this morning as well, my Lord. Are you wanting breakfast? Roeburn nor Mary never came to say either of you'd be wanting it served, Sir.”

  “She is Lady Hentonbury.” Was it so hard to believe? She was his wife now, God damn it.

  “Beg pardon, my Lord,” Cook stammered. “Seeing her in the kitchen, it made me forget you'd all grown up.”

  “That's all right. Maybe we'll return to the good old days of breakfast in the kitchen and out the door before th
e earl knows what's happening. Although that might be a little tricky, being the earl myself these days.” Arthur didn't wait to see how his attempt at humor was taken. He was the earl and had no need of justifying a quick departure. He could guess where Amelia had gone and needed Hunter saddled in haste.

  Returning to James he said, “She went to the stables first thing.”

  “The river?”

  “The river.”

  ****

  The sound of horses approaching roused Amelia from contemplation. She looked up from the blade of grass that she'd been studying intently as she twined it through her fingers first one way than another.

  Arthur and James. She should have guessed as much as soon as she heard more than one set of horses. They both dismounted as soon as they were within hearing distance, walking their horses to a nearby tree and securing the reins around the trunk.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Because we know you,” Arthur said calmly as he settled to sit down on the grass a short distance away. He faced out to the river, giving Amelia enough distance that she didn't feel crowded.

  James remained standing by the horses.

  No one spoke again for a few moments. The silence wasn't tense. They were all three used to each other’s company enough that they'd grown out of any need for small talk. It was weighted, though. They all three knew conversation had to happen; the situation must be discussed.

  It was Arthur who eventually broke the silence. “Do you regret last night?”

  How to answer that? Amelia desperately didn't want to say the wrong thing. She had been intensely uncomfortable when she first woke up, physically and emotionally. Having had time to reflect she now realized that her discomfort was as much about the suddenness of the changes to her life and the pressures of growing up, having to face the reality of her situation rather than any potential unhappiness with her new life. She just needed a bit more time to adjust to not living a fairytale she’d dreamed for herself.

  In her fairytale Francine would still be alive, married to someone Amelia had no desire for, and Amelia herself would be courted by a man, one man, who had fallen in love with her instantly with no concern for her father's money, with no expectation of her fulfilling a role within society, with no obligations to take him away from her.

  How naïve she had been. Freedom, born from a degree of neglect, had made her selfish. With the knowledge that it was time to move forward, Amelia felt as if she might actually be ready to be a lady. The lady Arthur and James deserved.

  They'd trusted her. They'd given of themselves, putting aside concerns to let her see their true desires. She needed to take a leap of faith as well. She'd already done it physically; now she needed to let go of her heart as well.

  “I don't regret anything that happened last night.” She didn't want either Arthur or James to worry. “It has been a shock though.”

  “It's not too late.” James spoke quietly, as if afraid of the words he uttered.

  “Too late for what?”

  “Too late for me to leave.”

  “When would it be too late for you to leave? If last night didn't meet your expectations, if you no longer want to share, don't make it out to be my decision. I won't absolve you of last night if it's you that has regrets.” Amelia was angry. She should have known he wouldn't stay.

  This time the thought of James leaving caused her heart to ache. She felt it pressing against her chest, trying to push the pain out. He was hers now. She'd previously held part of herself back. She hadn't wanted to love James as more than a friend. It was too dangerous, but now it was too late.

  “It will never be too late for me to leave if that is what you want,” James said fiercely “I love you. More than I knew. Your happiness ... nothing else matters.” Amelia whipped her head round to stare at James, but he continued without pause, “If I stay, though, and we continue together, I don't think I'll be able to leave and ever come back, back to England even if you change your mind. If there is even a chance of my child in your belly it would be too late for me to leave and live sane.”

  Amelia didn't know how to respond. James's declaration was everything she had dreamed of hearing from a husband, but he wasn't her husband. She couldn't just go and fling herself into James's arms. Any declaration of her love had to be complete.

  When she had accepted Arthur's proposal, it was done knowing that she cared for him and fully intended to love him. Nothing that had happened in the past forty-eight hours had changed that, except to speed up her intentions.

  It was hard to believe that these two men were so dedicated to her happiness. They made it easy for her to love them both. They would make it possible for her to share her love. Previously starved for affection, she had just needed to open herself up to the possibility. And, oh! There were so many possibilities that she was just beginning to realize.

  Amelia got up and approached James, taking his hand and raising it to her lips before leading him to sit next to his brother on the bank. She knelt down before them both, putting their eyes at equal level.

  “I think we may have to work extra hard to make this work, but I think the extra love is worth it.”

  They both looked at her, hope with an edge of disbelief shining in their eyes.

  “Amelia, we both have so much love to give. It'll be worth it, you'll see; we'll do everything possible to earn your love.” There was no doubting Arthur's commitment.

  “Love isn't earned. It can't be set by society rules. I love you both. I am sorry I haven't made that clearer to you both. I've been a bit slow to recognize it, but it's true. I love you both so much.”

  “Not slow, you just needed luring.” James gave a lazy smile. “Maybe you can show us we've well and truly caught you.”

  “Show you?” It took Amelia a few seconds to catch on, before a blush rose to her cheek.

  “Look, even after last night she still colors so prettily.” James was clearly in a teasing frame of mind. Well, she'd show him.

  Rising to her feet she pushed the buttons of her riding habit through their holes before sliding her arms free and giving it a shake to the ground. Never letting her gaze drift from one of theirs she reached behind her neck to undo the buttons at the top of her gown. It was a little awkward, but the delay gave time for tension to fill the silence. Holding the gown to her breast she pulled her arms through the sleeves one at a time. She was going to let it drop when James moved suddenly, jumping up to pull her to him, and back down to the ground where she fell atop him.

  She felt like laughing, but was quickly unable to as his mouth trapped hers. She eagerly kissed him back while wriggling to get stable. Setting her legs to either side of James's frame seemed to do the trick.

  “Looks like you're going to get taken for a ride.” Arthur's words to James excited Amelia.

  “Can I do that? Ride him, like a horse?”

  “Oh yes.” James groaned “Up and down as fast as you like”

  “Here let me help you saddle up.” As James fumbled to release his manhood from his trousers Arthur lifted Amelia up and her skirts out the way. Ever helpful, he guided her back down as James gripped himself, keeping his cock firmly in place as Amelia slid slowly down, the momentum forcing her to stretch.

  “Are you all right, Amelia?” James was clearly struggling to keep control, yet even then was concerned for her.

  It hurt a bit. Of course it did. The pleasure was there as well this time, though. “Full, I'm so full like this.” Full and eager to move. She shifted slowly at first and when that felt good rocked back and forth. “Is this good?”

  “Perfect,” James said, slightly distracted by his self-appointed task of pulling Amelia's chemise down under her breasts, framing them for his perusal.

  As she tried raising and lowering herself Amelia watched James. His gaze was fixed on her breasts as they began to bounce up and down before him. Immersing herself in setting a rhythm Amelia moved up and down more quickly. James's eyes m
oved up and down more quickly, too. Casting a glance to the side, she saw that Arthur was now sitting back on the bank, stroking himself, his eyes fixed in the same direction as James's.

  “Arthur,” she called.

  When he looked up she beckoned him over with her eyes. It might be a bit awkward, but she wanted to touch them both at the same time. She was determined to indulge and appreciate all the positive aspects of being with two men. After all how many women were lucky enough to touch and be touched by two men? No ladies she knew, Amelia suspected.

  Arthur came and kneeled beside them. They’d all have grass stains marring their clothes when they got up. Recapturing the fun of being together, grass stains included, and not worrying that they were too old to just enjoy themselves was a definite positive. Now they were old enough and married enough to experience a degree of freedom.

  Supporting her weight on one hand, which rested on James’s chest, she reached out to Arthur with the other. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, effectively communicating so much. Reassurance, gratitude and love. Then he guided it to his staff. Amelia gripped on, trying to coordinate continuing to move on James while touching Arthur. Her movements a little bit frantic as she became consumed by physical sensation.

  She gloried in the rush of pleasure that their heated looks gave her. It felt fantastic to be galloping towards the explosion of pleasure that she now knew was her finish line, and to be taking her men with her. It wasn't far away now, like a fence on the horizon. The joy of the jump where there'd be a moment of suspension in the air before the rush of landing and satisfaction at being safely returned to earth was beckoning.

  And this was better. Amelia cried out with the realization of just how much better, free to vocalize her joy. Dimly, she heard James shouting his finish with her, Arthur's completion an echo behind it.

  Inside her she felt the warmth of James’s seed. She would welcome a child, whether from James or Arthur, it would help them build their own family.

  Arthur’s seed she held in the palm of her hand, some of it at least.