Page 108 of His Grace, the Duke
His large hand came down on her with a slap, even as the other jerked her hips back against him, sheathing his cock.
“Oh God, Tom—” The sting of the slap brought tears to her eyes, but it wasn’t painful. It was exhilarating. She felt ready to come again, squeezing him tighter. “Tom, please—ah—”
Another slap, this one to the other cheek. Then he was rutting into her with such force she let out a silent scream. Her hands gripped painfully tight to the sofa as she did everything to hold herself upright, pressing against him as he took his pleasure, making her own spiral sky high.
“From this moment, we start anew,” he said in her ear. “Iwas a fool for taking so long to see you for what you are. My love. My mate. My wife in my heart, if not on paper. You will not doubt my constancy again. Do you understand? You willneverdoubt me or our love again. Say it.”
“Ah—never,” she cried. “Tom, I love you. Please, don’t ever leave me alone.” The words slipped out unbidden. A plea. A prayer.
He stilled for a moment, panting behind her. Then his hands became impossibly gentle. He curled himself around her, his hands cupping her breasts over the fabric of her dress. His thrusts changed from claiming to loving. He pressed in, holding her tight, his cock as deep in as their bodies would allow. “Never,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You will never be alone again. I mean to make you my world. You, Burke, and James are my entire world now.”
Her body ached for the release she still craved.
“I only ask one thing of you,” he said, thrusting deep.
“Name it,” she replied, losing herself in the exquisite ache building inside her.
“Make more of an effort with James.”
She sucked in a breath. Of all the requests she thought Tom might make while buried deep inside her, that was nowhere on her list. “Tom—”
“We need him, Rosalie,” he whispered, tucking her loose hair behind her ear as he thrust in again. “He is part of us.” Thrust. “Only you can bring him in. Please, I know you love him. Try harder. For me, for Burke. Make us whole.”
Make us whole.
She imagined a bright, perfect future where she could let herself chase James Corbin, and he would let himself be caught. The four of them together. Happy. Hearts whole. Untouchablein their love. It was a beautiful dream... one Rosalie doubted could truly be hers. Nothing in her life had ever been that kind. Perfect was a word that stayed as far away from her as possible. And yet, she wanted to try.
It all came down to choices. We choose who we love. We choose who we fight for... who we die for... who we burn the world to ash for. She chose Horatio Burke. It was perhaps the easiest decision of her life. He was her shadow and she his. They would not be parted for anything.
She chose Tom Renley, her sweet, passionate sailor who wore his heart on his sleeve. He would love her and protect her, make her laugh every day. And he would fiercely love her Burke. They deserved their own happiness together, aside from whatever they shared with her. She would protect their love with everything she had.
Rosalie now had a final choice to make. Was she going to sit back and let life pass her by, afraid to live for fear of getting hurt again? Or would she be brave and dare to believe her life could be more? Choosing James Corbin terrified her. Choosing James Corbin meant choosing to be more. Did she have the strength for it?
Feeling Tom curled around her, his cock buried deep, she felt fortified. She gave him a little nod. “I will try.”
50
Rosalie
An incessant tappingwoke Rosalie from her dream. She was grateful, for the dream had involved a feral Marianne, eyes red like a demon, chasing her through the dark halls of Corbin House.
She sat up with a gasp, Burke’s arm curling tighter around her, ready to soothe her even in his sleep. By the light of the fire, she could just make out the face of the mantel clock.Three in the morning.
And someone had most assuredly just knocked on her door.
She shook Burke by the shoulder, rousing him with a finger to her lips. He blinked awake and she pointed silently at the door. At first, he was bleary eyed and befuddled, but another soft rap at the door had him more alert than a wolf on the hunt.
His entire body tensed as he slipped his bare legs off the side of the bed, reaching for his breeches. Someone was knocking on the door, and they both knew it wasn’t Tom. The hospital charity bazar was in the morning, and Tom had already traveled on to Greenwich to help Hartington with the setup.
Rosalie put a hand on Burke’s arm. “You must go. Now.”
He stared daggers at her. “Who is knocking on your door, Rosalie?”
“I don’t know,” she mouthed, slipping out the other side of her bed. The floor was freezing on her bare feet. Her chemise slipped off one shoulder as she flicked her long braid over the other, reaching for her robe.
Burke took a step towards her door, his hand outstretched.
She rushed forward, her robe still undone, and grabbed for his arm, giving him a desperate push towards his own room. Useless. The man was a tree.
