Page 89 of His Grace, the Duke
You are the one with high walls. Let him in.
She bit her lip before admitting the truth. “I want to turn to you, James.”
He pulled her hand closer, kissing the joint of her thumb. “I want to be the one who protects you.”
“You do,” she replied, curling towards him. “You make me feel safe.”
“Good,” he muttered, kissing her first finger, then her second. Suddenly, he stilled. “And stop fighting me about the bloody clothes. I’m not trying to own you, I’m trying to care for you.”
“I know. It’s forgotten,” she whispered. “Forgiven. I love the clothes.”
He kissed her palm, sucking in a breath with his face pressed to her skin. Oh God, he was scenting her. Such a simple act, but so sensual she fought the need to moan. She looked down at the man in her lap and made her own request. “Stop avoiding me. James, I can’t bear it. If you’re angry with me then scream, pull your hair, throw glass until it shatters... only don’t abandon me.”
“I’m here,” he murmured. “Rosalie, I’m right here.”
She put both hands on him, one in his hair and the other rubbing small circles on his shoulder. They relaxed into each other. Rosalie tipped her head back on the sofa, closing her eyes, letting herself feel every inch of him all around her.
It didn’t take long before his breathing finally slowed, and James was asleep.
42
Burke
It should havebeen a perfect day. Burke got to wake in the arms of his lovers, sated from a night of vigorous lovemaking. Tom’s pretty words to Rosalie about retiring her mouth had been pure fantasy. Their wanton siren took them to hand and mouth again and again until they were begging for mercy. They reciprocated in full, worshipping her body, teasing and sharing her sweet cunt until each kiss tasted only of her.
God, he’d never wanted to wake. Day should be abolished. It should only ever be night, and he should be naked between his lovers forever.
But day came, and with it came all the demands of the world outside their bed.
He started his morning being forced by James to run an errand on the opposite end of Town. He waited for two hours for the gentleman to show, but he never did. On his way back to Corbin House, he stopped by the stable yards and was told that, not only did one of his favorite broodmares die of colic in the night, but one of his most promising new racingstallions took a tumble during a training run and shattered his front leg. The poor animal had to be put down.
So, when Burke entered the library to find Tom alone with Captain Hartington, the two of them standing together in the window, his patience snapped.
“Burke,” Tom said with a smile. “We were just talking about you. Good outing?”
“No,” he muttered, crossing over to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of port. He didn’t need Tom to confirm what he already knew. Tom and Hartington had history. It was in their shared looks, the way they could finish each other’s sentences. Hartington knew Tom the way Burke knew Tom... the way Burke was learning to know Tom. He squeezed the glass tight, not turning around as he took a sip.
“Renley here tells me you can box,” called Hartington. “You trained at Oxford?”
“Aye,” he replied, setting the glass down. Did the captain want a demonstration?
“I was just telling Renley about a charity bazar Greenwich Hospital is hosting on Sunday,” Hartington went on. “There’ll be stalls for jams and pies and the like. But we’re trying to make it a bit more of a show. We’ve landed on the idea of hosting a few sparring matches.”
“It’s brilliant, eh?” Tom said with a smile. “People can make bets and part of the winnings will go to the hospital.”
“Brilliant,” Burke replied.
Tom’s smile fell, his eyes narrowing on him. He glanced at the captain, then back to Burke. Tom and the captain might have a language of looks they shared, but so did Tom and Burke, and Burke was making no mystery of his current thoughts. Tom frowned and shook his head.
“Well?” called the captain, oblivious to their silent conversation. “What say you, Mr. Burke? Care to try your luck in the ring against a navy man? It’s all for a good cause.”
Burke tore his eyes away from Tom. “You want me to fight?”
“Aye, it would be good to have a few men with some proper training,” the captain replied. “If you leave it to us old sea dogs, it may be little more than a rowdy slinging of fists. But there’s an art to boxing, as you well know.”
Damn it, why did Hartington have to be so likable?
Sensing Burke’s thoughts, Tom smirked.
