Page 109 of His Grace, the Duke
He glared, curling his arm possessively around her, his intentions clear. No one would be opening that door but him. Before either of them could silently argue, a deep voice murmured through the solid wooden door. “Burke... open the door.”
James.
They both breathed a sigh of relief and Burke crossed to the door. He turned the lock with a click, opening it a crack to let James slip in.
James stood in her room for the first time, his eye glancing to Burke, who was naked but for a pair of breeches slung low on his hips, still undone at the waist. James’ eyes trailed over to Rosalie—her hair set in ribbon curlers, her robe open over a chemise all askew, down to her bare toes curling on the cold rug. James was dressed no more formally. He wore a shirt and breeches, velvet tasseled slippers on his feet. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and the buttons were open at the neck.
Her mouth quirked into a smile as she remembered he was the first of the three men she’d seen completely naked.
That afternoon with Madeline by the water’s edge, she saw every wet, glistening inch of him. It felt like a lifetime ago instead of only a few weeks.
“What happened?” Burke started buttoning up his breeches. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” James replied, seeming suddenly unsure. “I... this was a mistake.” His eyes darted to Rosalie.
Her smile fell as she really took him in—the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. After everything between them over the past few days, he was still hurting, confused and angry and alone with his lofty principles.
She stepped up to him, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, his dark lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.
“You look exhausted,” she murmured.
He covered her hand with his own, opening his eyes. “I... can’t sleep,” he admitted.
With a nod, she dropped her hand from his face and stepped back. She didn’t need Tom’s plea sounding in her ears to guide her next steps. She knew what she wanted... what he needed. “Come to bed.”
James glanced from her to Burke, a brow raised in silent question.
Without hesitation, Burke began unfastening his breeches. “I sleep nude.”
“I know.” He followed behind Rosalie to the far side of the bed.
Rosalie slipped off her robe, flashing Burke a little smile as he climbed back into her bed.
He tugged back the coverlet, letting her slip in. “Stoke the fire,” he directed at James. “And close the curtains on your side. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here.”
James moved silently over to the fireplace, adding a few logs and shifting them with a fire iron. With his back turnedto them, Burke took the moment to tip her face towards him and ask his own silent question. She nodded, leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Assuaged, he rolled over, tugging the curtains on his side of the bed closed.
James returned, the fire blazing behind him, casting long shadows down the walls. He shrugged off his breeches, leaving on his billowing white shirt. It was long enough to cover him as he sank down onto the bed.
Rosalie could sense his nerves warring with his desperate fatigue. Wasting no time, she pulled him down to her, letting him sink his face onto the pillow and curl around her, his chin tucked against the curve of her breast. His left arm wrapped around her middle and she tangled their bare legs together. With her free hand, she brushed his wavy curls off his brow with slow strokes.
Burke waited for them both to settle before scooting in behind Rosalie. He buried his face in the curve of her neck. She felt him sinking into sleep, totally at peace with James’ presence.
“This pillow smells like Tom,” said James, his breath warm against her shoulder.
“Aye, well that’s Tom’s side of the bed,” Burke mumbled. “You’ll have to fight him for it when he returns.”
“Perhaps they can simply wrestleyouto the floor, and their problem will be solved,” Rosalie replied with a sleepy smile.
“Not a fucking chance.” He slid his hand around her stomach to cup her sex, pressing her back against his hips. “You sleep nestled against my cock, or not at all.”
“Learn to share, or I will sleep alone,” she countered.
He grumbled, not loosening his hold on her as he grazed his teeth over her neck, giving her a little nip. He soothed thespot with a lave of his tongue, which sent a shiver down her arms. She was too tired to let herself become aroused. These men were wearing her out, body and soul. She was desperate for sleep.
And yet there was something she did want before she let sleep claim her. She brushed her fingers through James’ hair again. “James...”
He hummed to let her know he was still awake.
