Absolute Surrender by Jenn LeBlanc Page A

us.” When she gazed upon him again, he saw the shine in her eyes and knew he had possibly gone too far.

    “Amelia, I must go.”
    She felt herself nod.
    “Do you need me to stay?”
    “You mustn ’ t stay. My mother is undoubtedly coming. You must go.”
    Please stay …
    Charles took her shivering hand as the footsteps neared, gazed at it, held her hand as though it were the entirety of her, then kissed it, the soothing heat of his mouth a tonic that rushed her veins. Then he turned and left.
    She nearly melted into a puddle there by the door, but it creaked wider, and she turned swiftly for the windows.
    Amelia attempted to gather her wits. Because they were scattered, possibly shattered. Her wits were undoubtedly, irreconcilably and irretrievably bestrewn about her.
    She plopped down on the window seat and attempted to untangle from her mind the previous hour or so. Truly it was the last little bit that had her in a dither. She held on to the cushions, to anything that would help to anchor her. Hold her to the earth.
    Charles had been hard in places he shouldn ’ t have been hard. Not if he were upset. She pressed a hand to her chest. In truth, she was hard in places she shouldn ’ t have been as well. She rubbed in a feeble attempt to relieve the sensation of her taut nipples against the barrier of her corset.
    She had drilled Hugh about it once, while they were watching her father ’ s men work with the cattle. He had been very patient about it, because he knew she didn ’ t like surprises. Of any kind. He also knew her mother would never say a word to her. So Hugh had patiently— ever so patiently— attempted to explain what happened to a man when he liked a woman. In very brief, and vague, terms.
    A man could be hard— there —while upset, but being upset wouldn ’ t make him hard. He was made to be hard only because he was interested. In her. Charles had said she ’ d groaned in a sensual manner. Sensual meant sex. Amelia knew this as well. But she didn ’ t know what sex sounded like. At least, not when humans were involved.
    She dearly hoped it sounded nothing like the cattle. That certainly wouldn ’ t be sensual, would it? To a human? That lowing and pitching? Or the goats, or the horses, or—
    “Amelia.” She jerked her hand to her lap, and the flush rose from her corset to her face. “His Grace has asked to speak with your father. I take it the outing was successful?”
    Amelia clenched her eyes.
    What the devil? Her mind spun, then caught on the last word from her mother.
    Successful . Charles was speaking with her father.
    The cushion leaned when her mother sat next to her, and Amelia straightened. Let loose the fabric, attempted to relax her fingers on the handkerchief.
    “I…expect it ’ s entirely possible that in the future he may decide to opt for me,” Amelia said to her mother in the easiest voice she could muster. She turned in time to see her mother ’ s features pass from excited to confused to appeased—with an underlying bit of annoyance.
    “Mother, I am...terribly weary. I believe I should rest.” She attempted a smile and waited for permission to leave. She could see that her mother wanted more from her, but more she wasn ’ t able to give. First off, she hadn ’ t even had a chance to remember the morning as it was, to consider every word, every hand gesture, every movement that might need examination.
    Amelia truly had no idea whether the outing had been successful. The outing had been exhausting, as any courting experience would have been for her.
    We a re not that familiar, you and I. Goodness, she had said that to him.
    She stood rather abruptly. “I will see you for tea, perhaps, if I feel up to it.”
    “Amelia.”
    She smiled down at her mother, feeling her nerves coil, attempt to regather, prepare to bolt. She shook her head. Hopefully, her mother knew better than to push her at this point. Her mother had what she wanted. Now, Amelia wanted to be left