Duty to Love (10 page)

Surely
she was showing her trust in him, her love for him.

It
was too much. He was going to climax. He hoped the flow of seed would be
limited by his earlier release.

“Amelia.”
He needed to know she heard him. He waited ‘til she paused in her actions,
before instructing, “Suck, and then you’re going to need to swallow.”

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 the 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.”