Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2)

by Felicia Rogers

  A sigh rent his lips. So many things had changed.

  The wind blew, and a shutter creaked. Today was moving day yet he'd promised to visit the Green's home. Why couldn't Stephen leave him alone? He'd done everything they'd asked of him. He'd moved out. He'd made his own place. He'd stopped moping and complaining. Yet still they pestered him. Still they wanted more.

  Beside the creek bed he studied scurrying creatures. They controlled their own destiny. No one tried to tell them how to live. Why couldn't Millie and Stephen just let him be? Why did his life dissatisfy them so?

  The sound of hoofbeats drew his attention. Jumping to his feet he raced to the cabin. If Stephen had brought Amelia here, he would kill him.

  "Looking good, Charles," said Stephen from his saddle.

  "What do you want?" Charles asked angrily.

  "Not exactly the welcome I expected, but I came to take you to the house."

  "I don't need you to escort me like some kind of baby. I can get there myself."

  Stephen clicked his tongue. "Charles, if I waited for you to come yourself I would be more likely to see pigs fly."

  Charles strode toward Stephen and yanked him from the horse. A smug satisfied look flitted across Stephen's face as Charles' fist made contact. Stephen tilted his head to the side and spit blood onto the ground.

  "You shouldn't have done that. I'm only trying to help you."

  Charles hit him again, this time in the stomach. Stephen doubled over. Holding his belly, he ran at Charles and rammed him with his head. They fell to the ground rolling between punches. Moments passed. Breathless, they parted.

  Charles struggled to his feet. "Have you ever considered that I might not want your help?"

  "Very well. I'll go back and tell Millicent that Amelia can come here to visit you anytime."

  Stephen grabbed his horse and climbed astride.

  Charles raked a hand through his hair. Curses rent the air. "Wait a minute and I'll come with you."

  ****

  Amelia found Millie staring out the window. Her eyes squinted against the sun and her forehead furrowed into a deepening frown.

  "Do they look odd to you?" asked Millie, as she studied Stephen and Charles through the pane glass.

  Amelia peered over Millie's shoulder. "I can't tell."

  They met them at the front door. Cuts and scrapes covered their faces. Dirt and streaks of mud smeared their cheeks. Stephen's coat lay half off his body while Charles' shirt sported several tears.

  "What happened to you two?" asked Millie, the words hissing through her clenched teeth.

  Stephen shrugged. "We had an issue to work out."

  Millie opened her mouth to protest, but Amelia squeezed her arm. "It appears the situation is handled. Why don't we retire to the parlor while these gentlemen clean up?"

  Hesitantly, Millie agreed. Stephen sighed and Charles mouthed, "Thank you."

  They entered the parlor, and Amelia poured four glasses. Millie downed her cool drink. Relief consumed Amelia as the liquid refreshed her parched throat.

  "Why did you stop me? We both know they were fighting."

  "Of course we do, but they didn't want us to know."

  "But–"

  "Millie, does it really matter? If they resolved their disagreement, is it our business to know what it was about?"

  Millie placed her hands on her hips. Their natural shape had started to return.

  "Everything concerning Stephen is my business."

  Amelia stifled a giggle at her sister's attitude.

  "Are you laughing at me?"

  Amelia cleared her throat. "Never, dear sister. I–"

  Both of them fell into a chair and gripped their sides. "They looked as if they rolled around on the ground," said Amelia between fits of laughter.

  "Of course they did. It probably has something to do with you. Pride goes before the fall and Charles' pride–"

  "I hear my name. How could I be so lucky to have two beautiful women speaking of me at the same time and not in a loathing manner?"

  Amelia reined in her humor and fought her curiosity as she rose and straightened her gown.

  Charles wrapped his warm arm around her waist and waltzed her through the cluttered room. Bumping furniture, Amelia fought the desire to yelp in pain.

  The dance ended in front of the fireplace. Flames licked at the wood and heat flowed over her.

  Charles leaned forward; his hot breath hit her face, and she recoiled in disgust. "You've been drinking."

  He hiccupped and smiled in a lopsided manner.

  Amelia sought her sister's attention, upset to find her distracted by her equally soused husband. The two of them had only been gone for a few moments. How had they consumed so much alcohol in such a brief time? Had they been drinking before they arrived? She would never understand the folly of man.

  "Amelia, look at me."

  Charles palmed her chin and forced her to comply. His bright blue eyes were surrounded by red streaks. His blond hair hung wet and haphazardly across his forehead.

  "You are more beautiful now than ever before."

  Amelia tried to pull away but Charles held her firmly. "Please."

  "Please, what? Please kiss you? Please let you go? What do you really want?"

  Amelia held her breath as Charles pulled her against him. He pressed his lips hard to hers. She pushed against his chest but to no avail.

  Blood rushed to her crushed lips. Heat flushed her cheeks. She balled her fists and shoved his chest but he didn't relent.

  Stars swam before her eyes, and her legs weakened. Giving in, Amelia interlocked her hands behind Charles neck and pushed onto the tips of her toes.

  The sound of a throat clearing had them parting. Amelia buried her face against Charles' chest.

  "What?" asked Charles his breath coming in rasping gasps.

  "If you plan on removing my sister's face, I would like you sober."

  Peering from under her lashes, Amelia's shame grew. Charles' unorthodox behavior, his atrocious breath, his lack of denial, all proved his guilt before the kiss occurred. She fell backward, crashing against a table. A vase toppled and clattered to the floor, shattering into several pieces.

  Amelia placed her hands to her flushed cheeks and fled the room.

  Chapter Five

  Water trickled underneath Charles' collar and dampened the back of his shirt as Stephen shoved his head beneath the water's surface. Lifted from the grimy liquid, Charles sputtered. Stephen settled him against the metal trough and collapsed beside him.

  "I have a feeling we've done this before," said Stephen.

  "We have, only you were the one kissing the girl."

  "About that–"

  "Don't talk about it because I never want to speak of it again. It was a mistake."

  "You're just saying that right now. You'll change your mind. Besides, you don't honestly expect Millie to accept that."

  "Sorry but she has to. Amelia deserves better." Charles peered toward the house. He touched his bruised lips and raked his hand through his soggy strands of hair.

  Stephen guffawed. "You honestly believe you can kiss Amelia in such a way and expect her to just walk away?"

  "You sound like a woman."

  "Perhaps I've been listening to Millie too long, but seriously Charles, you have feelings for Amelia, must you continue to deny them?"

  "I have nothing of the sort."

  "Listen to yourself lie through your teeth. What has happened to you? You never acted this way before. Taking women's feelings lightly isn't like you. Your mother–"

  "Don't speak of my mother!"

  "Charles–"

  Charles pushed off the ground, grabbed the reins of a nearby horse, and mounted. Stephen's voice grew faint as Charles rode farther away. The clothes he wore didn't belong to him, the horse he rode wasn't his, and the land his house rested upon wasn't in his name. He was worthless, penniless. No way would he bring Amelia down to his level.

  The poun
ding of horse hooves drew his attention. He looked over his shoulder. Amelia nudged the flank of her horse and it shot forward.

  Charles slowed and Amelia pulled astride him. She dismounted and he stopped. She grabbed his horse's reins.

  "Come down."

  The command brooked no argument and Charles dismounted.

  Amelia poked his ribs and he giggled. She frowned and he attempted to gain control of himself.

  "You do not have the right to kiss me then run away. I deserve better."

  Charles couldn't have agreed more.

  "I did not travel from Louisiana to garner your attention or the attentions of any other man. I came to check on my ailing sister."

  She stopped talking. The afternoon light reflected off her flushed cheeks. He stepped forward and wound his hand in her hair, drawing her head to his. Their lips touched. She sighed in his mouth and he clasped her tighter. Warm, softly molded curves melded with his hard frame. His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest.

  Internally he wrestled with his carnal passions. What was he doing? He pushed her at arm's length and she wobbled. He reached forward and steadied her.

  "What do you want from me?" she asked as tears clouded her eyes.

  Charles whispered, "I don't know."

  Amelia took a step back and clasped her hands in front of her. Her lips trembled as she said, "Let me know when you find out."

  She found her horse grazing on the side of the road, mounted, and rode away. Charles didn't move until the trail dust settled.

  ****

  Amelia's lips throbbed. Her ribs ached. Charles' punishing kiss had enacted more than just physical pain. Tears coursed steadily along her cheeks and every swipe of her hand revealed a new flood.

  Millie flitted around her, her energy revived by anger.

  "I can't believe him. Rest assured Stephen will take care of this. And Father never needs to know what happened. If he knew Charles had impugned your honor…"

  Millie's voice faded as Amelia closed her eyes. She could still feel Charles' hands on her waist. Tingles raced from her hairline to her toes, pooling in her center.

  Warmth rushed to her cheeks. She left the dressing table and drifted to an open window. Cool air struck her flushed skin and she reveled in the contrast.

  She'd always been the stable one, the one who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Simple and plain, her life wasn't supposed to be complicated like Millie's or Cora's. With Millie's impetuous nature and Cora's recklessness, they needed extra protection. But her sensible frame of mind was supposed to keep her life on a straight and narrow path.

  Now this. If Charles weaseled his way into her heart, how would that affect her life plans, her goals? Father needed her. With Millie gone and Cora chomping at the bit to leave, she was the only one left to help her parents.

  Behind her, Millie continued to speak and Amelia smiled at her sister's over protectiveness.

  "I'll have Stephen explain to Charles that your heart is not something to be trifled with. And if he does so again we will cut it out and serve it as a side dish."

  Appalled, Amelia allowed her jaw to drop.

  Stephen walked in, looked between them, and said, "Better close your mouth to keep the gnats out."

  Unamused, Millie said, "Stephen this is not a humorous matter. Charles can't treat Amelia this way. What are his intentions? With his inheritance–"

  Stephen grimaced and clamped his hand over Millie's mouth. "May I speak with you in private?"

  Millie nodded and Stephen dragged her away. Glad to be alone with her thoughts, Amelia snuck into the empty hallway. Quietly she stole toward the entrance. The knob twisted in her hand and an outside force pushed against her. Amelia took a step back as the door opened.

  "Pardon me," came a sure strong voice.

  Amelia bit her lip. Victor stood a head taller than her. Thick tawny hair feathered back on the sides framing his soft features. Pale blue eyes glared at her, a smile tugged at the corner of his full lips.

  He clutched the brim of his hat. "I'm sorry about the door. I didn't realize anyone was on the opposite side."

  "That's quite all right. I've not been harmed."

  "Glad to hear it."

  They stared at one another. He shuffled his feet and Amelia patted her hair.

  "Don't be concerned my dear, your hair is beautiful."

  Heat rushed to her cheeks and she studied the ground.

  Victor nudged her chin. "I've embarrassed you."

  She tried to look away but he held her firmly in place.

  "Forgive me but I'm prone to speak the truth. And from where I'm standing, there is not a thing wrong with you."

  "O-of course," Amelia stuttered.

  He released her and bowed at the waist. "Where are my manners? It is good to see you again Miss Beaumont. How are you?"

  "Confused," she answered, her frown increasing in size.

  His hearty laughter filled the foyer. "Well then I must beg your forgiveness for causing such a state."

  Amelia shook her head and pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Sorry, it is just I didn't expect to see you here."

  Victor leaned back, his gaze wondered from her feet to her head. "I can see that."

  Amelia lifted her brow. Now was he implying something was wrong with her state of dress?

  "I promise to explain later but right now I need to speak with Stephen. Can you tell me where I can find him?"

  Amelia gnawed at her lip. Stephen and Millie had disappeared into another room and she wasn't sure what to tell him. Erring on the side of caution, she said, "I'm afraid he is in a meeting and unavailable at the moment."

  He arched his neck and peered over her head. Finished searching, he looked at her and asked, "Can you give him a message for me?"

  Amelia nodded.

  "Tell him that it won't work."

  "What won't work?"

  "Don't worry your pretty little head with the details, sweetheart. Just pass the message along, I assure you he will understand."

  "I'll tell him."

  "Good." Victor bowed, turned on his heel, placed his hat on his head, and left by the tree-lined road.

  Chapter Six

  Items crashed into the wall as Charles swept his hands across Stephen's desk. "How dare he come here? What does he hope to accomplish?"

  "Don't worry, my litigator is working on the details–"

  Tugging his coat, Charles sighed. The broken debris in the corner reminded him of his life, one minute tidy and neat, the next a chaotic jumble. "Stephen. Just let it go. Victor owns the Vincent Estate and there is nothing I can do about it."

  Charles didn't give Stephen a chance to respond and stalked out of the room. Outside on the porch Amelia rocked, laughter rolled from her lips and her face transformed into an expression of glee.

  It had been days since he'd seen her on the road. Stephen had told him of Millie's anger over the incident. He couldn't blame her; he was angry at himself. After the less-than-chaste kiss, Amelia had every right to know how he felt about her.

  Gathering his courage and hoping she wouldn't throw him off the porch, he asked, "What are you so happy about?"

  Amelia glanced over the top of the paper.

  "Well?" asked Charles again, his patience waning.

  "I'm reading a note," she said, as she shook the paper clasped within her fingertips.

  "Entertaining, is it?"

  "Very."

  "Did Cora write you?" Charles leaned against the porch railing. He forced his heart rate to calm as he watched her. The fact she had spoken to him at all was indeed a good sign.

  "No, Cora detests writing or any matter of communicating which requires effort."

  "Then who? I could use a good laugh about now."

  Amelia lifted one shoulder. "I don't know much about him. I mean, I met him in town when I arrived. He was such a gentleman. The hotel was full and he offered me a place to stay in his townhouse. Not that I do that often but I was in d
ire need.

  "Then out of the blue," Amelia snapped her fingers, "he dropped by here a couple of days ago. He wanted to talk to Stephen, but he was busy. Anyway since that visit every few hours he has someone deliver a note especially for me."

  Confusion plagued him. What was one kiss compared to staying in a stranger's townhouse overnight? Exhaling, Charles beat down his feelings of jealousy. Amelia deserved to be happy and if that happened without him then that was good, right?

  Charles said, "Sounds like a charmer. What's his name? Maybe I know him."

  "You probably do. His name is Victor, Victor Vincent."

  His entire body shook with rage. He ripped the note from her hands, shredded it into tiny pieces, dropped it on the porch, and ground it with his heel.

  "What are you doing?" she asked her eyes widening.

  Charles ignored Amelia's protests, gathered the miniscule pieces in his hands, carried them to the parlor, and threw them in the fireplace. Consumed by flames, the ripped note curled and blackened.

  He turned to find Amelia standing in the doorway. Her mouth hung open and her fists clenched to her sides.

  One step and he stood in front of her. He pointed his finger in her face. "Victor is my uncle. You stay away from him. Do you hear me? Stay away!"

  Amelia tilted her head to one side and tapped her chin. "I've thought about it and I've concluded that you've lost your mind." Gathering her skirts, she made a beeline for the foyer. With one foot on the stairs, she turned and yelled, "Rest assured I will see whom I please. However, thank you for your concern."

  Charles raced to her position and stood in front of her before she could ascend. Fear lit her eyes and her chin quivered. He backed away holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry."