His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

Burke stood barefoot in the doorway, grey eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. His shirt was untucked, hanging loose on his broad frame. “I saw the light…what are you doing in here?”

Rosalie sighed. “Ask yourself, sir. Do you never knock on a lady’s door? It’s a terrible habit, and I mean to break you of it.”

“You haven’t seemed to mind in the past,” he replied, still looking around.

“I have minded every time,” she cried. “Burke, why are you in here?”

“Why are you in here?”

“Well, I’m not shoeing horses, am I?” She gestured to her position on the bed with an irritated wave of her hand. “I’m trying to sleep, or at least I was until you barged in.”

He moved over nearer to the fireplace, inspecting the stack of dress boxes. “Who put you in here?”

An unsettling feeling sank into her chest. “Why…what’s wrong with this room?” She crawled out of the bed, her fatigue forgotten. “Oh, I knew there was something. Is it haunted?” Why that was her first thought, she had no idea. She clearly read too many gothic novels. Either way, panic leeched up her spine. “I swear, if James put me in here as some kind of cruel joke—”

Burke turned sharply. “James put you in here?”

Rosalie wrapped her arms around her middle. “Burke, please just tell me what’s going on.”

The corner of his mouth tipped into a smile. Turning on his heel, he swept from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Rosalie stood next to her bed, mouth open in surprise. “What—Burke,” she hissed, rushing over towards the door. “You cannot just leave like that!”

As she settled her hand on the knob, there came a rattling behind her. She shrieked and spun around, pressing herself against the door.

Scritch…scratch.

The soft sounds came from the opposite door. The door clicked open and swung inward to reveal Burke yet again. He was backlit by a warm fire glowing in the connecting room.

“Burke, what—”

He leaned against the frame. “This is my room,” he said, gesturing with a nod to the other room.

“What?” She paced around the end of her bed. “James put us in adjoining rooms?”

Burke took two steps back, letting her see into his much larger room. Touches of Burke were everywhere. Art to his tastes decked the walls—hunting scenes and landscapes in warm greens, golds, and browns. Messy stacks of books were piled on the table. His coat was flung over a chair and his boots sat flopped by the door.

“Oh, that devil,” she hissed. “This is so inappropriate. Why would James do this?”

“Easy,” Burke said with a laugh. “Ladies are usually roomed in the east wing, true enough. But I’m sure James spun an appropriate tale to Mrs. Robbins about needing all the rooms for the coming guests.”

“He has put us in adjoining rooms! Is he trying to start a scandal?”

He just shrugged. “I’m not sure anyone in the house knows these rooms functionally adjoin anymore. George always kept the key well-hidden when he lived in here. For the longest time an armoire even sat before this door,” he added, glancing around. “If we’re discreet, no one need know we have a key,” he finished with a wink.

She rushed back into her room. “I need to pack. I need to move. I—”

Burke just stood in the doorway chuckling. “Do you plan to drag all of this through the house tonight?”

She spun around to glare at him. “You could help me.”

His gaze heated as his eyes roved slowly down her body. “You are so beautiful when you’re angry.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing it did little to hide her shape in the paper-thin chemise. “Don’t flirt with me. Why would James do this?”

He sighed. “It’s just a peace offering. He’s been conflicted about you…to say the least. I think he’d made up his mind at Alcott to try and keep us apart. Clearly, he’s reconsidered. This is his way of blessing our…union.”

Rosalie felt a twisting in her gut. This was more than just a peace offering. James meant to wash his hands of her once and for all. Now that he’d placed her in Burke’s arms, he could walk away. Treacherous feelings of sinking self-worth were mirrored by rising anger.

She chose anger.

“How dare he,” she snarled. “What a high-handed, despicable thing to do! He does not own us, Burke. He doesn’t get to keep doing this—making decisions for the rest of us and just assume we’ll go along.”

Burke watched her intently, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. “What do you intend to do about it, little siren?”

“I mean to have words with him. The clothes, the rooms, dismissing our help tonight—that man will learn he’s not an island, or so help me…” She didn’t even know how to finish the threat, so she just let it hang, chest heaving as she took a shaky breath.

Burke took a step closer. “Can I watch?”

She blinked. “Watch what?”

His stormy eyes danced with interest. “I want to watch you excoriate James.”

“And why would you want that?”

“To see you both together, tempers flared…voices raised…it is sure to become my new favorite pastime.”

Warmth pooled inside her. “You would enjoy watching us argue?”

He closed the space between them and reached for her hand, placing it over his stiffening cock. Her breath caught as desire burned though her. He leaned in and brushed his lips along her jaw, pulling her flush against him.

“I would see the two of you undone,” he whispered. “I would see you dominate him in all the ways I know you can. I want him on his knees, bending to your will. I want you to own him.” He ran his lips along the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “Own us both. Show us your power until we bend only to you. Worship only you…need only you…”

“Burke…” She stroked him, lost to the visions his words conjured in her mind.

“I want you to remember the sound you just made,” he murmured, using one hand to tug on the front tie of her chemise. “Make it again with my cock in your mouth.”

She bloomed, feeling that strange siren’s magic coursing through her. Only Burke could wake it in her. She felt powerful, beautiful, controlled. She opened her eyes, taking in the look of longing on his handsome face. Her smile widened. He was done for. She would have this man. She would make him beg. She dropped her hand away and stepped back. “Take off your clothes,” she whispered. “And get on my bed.”

With a devilish grin, Burke stepped past her into her room, tugging his shirt off as he went. He dropped it to the floor. The mix of candle and firelight danced across the planes of his muscled back and shoulders. He stopped by the side of the bed, undoing the fastenings of his pants. He slipped them down over his hips, exposing his backside to her as they pooled at his ankles.

Rosalie could barely breathe. Burke was naked in her room…beside her bed…waiting for her.

He turned slowly to face her, hard cock on display. He stroked it lazily with one hand. “Where do you want me?”

Leaving her lonely perch by the door, she crossed over to him, pushing him down onto the edge of the bed. Their lips collided in a fevered kiss as she climbed atop him. Burke pulled her tight to him until she felt his hardness. She scrambled for the hem of her chemise, tugging it up over her head and tossing it away. Their naked bodies pressed together. She shivered as her sensitive nipples grazed his chest.

“I want you.” Burke’s breath was hot against her open mouth as he kissed her. “I ache for you—need you—”

“You have me,” she panted, touching every part of him she could reach. “I’m yours.”

He dropped his mouth to her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue. She arched into him, feeling the slide of his cock between her legs. Eager for more, she pressed down with her hips. At the feel of her wetness, he gave a sharp moan, instinctively pushing her hips away to give himself relief.

“Too much,” he groaned, lifting his mouth from her breast. “I’ve been dying for you.”

She scrambled off his lap. “Lie down.”

Without hesitation, he slid fully onto the bed. He scooted back on his elbows, his stomach muscles flexing as he pulled himself towards the head of the bed.

She crawled onto the bed and straddled him again, her hips spread around his thighs. She quickly wrapped her hand around his length, stroking him from root to tip. He sank back against the pillows.

“What did you say to me this morning?” she whispered, stroking him slow. “‘You’re going to come for me. You’re going to beg me for it.’”

He threw an arm over his face as he took deep breaths. “Christ, I’m already so close.”

She rose on her knees, scooting back until she could take him in her mouth. She swiped her tongue over his tip, tasting his tart, salty release. His cock twitched against her lips. She slid both hands up his thighs, gripping tight to his hips as she sank down on him, stroking and teasing him with her tongue.

“Fucking hell,” he panted. His fingers wove into her mess of curls, and he fisted them tight. A sharp pain in her scalp sent a jolt of need straight to her aching core. She couldn’t contain her cry as she took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of her throat.

He gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her off. “Ungh—stop—”

Feeling bold, she let her body slide along the naked length of him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she braced herself on her elbows. She kissed down one side of his jaw, then the other, latching onto his neck, sucking and teasing with her teeth.

“You’re a goddamn siren.” His rough hands roamed from her backside up her sides to her shoulders. “I feel you everywhere. Feel your wet heat drawing me in. You want me, don’t you? Want me inside you.”

“Are you trying to make me beg?” She trailed kisses down his chest as her hand snaked between them, wrapping around his cock again.

He was still trying to take charge, even as his body coiled tight, fighting the urge to release. “God—yes.” He cupped her face with both hands, kissing her as if he was trying to pull her very essence into himself. They broke apart, panting.

With her mouth still against his she whispered, “Let go, Burke. This is for you. My Horatio. My Burke.”

“I don’t deserve you. Don’t deserve this…”

Heat radiated over her skin at the very idea. “You are mine,” she challenged. “I say what you deserve. I decide what happens next. You want to hear me moan your name?”

“Yes,” he sighed on a deep exhale.

She gripped his chin, tipping it up until he held her gaze. “Then give me what I want.”

She slid back down his body, sinking her mouth onto him. She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deep. Holding tight to his hips, she worked him with mouth and tongue until he was crying out, lifting his hips and spilling down her throat. She swallowed everything he gave her, rewarding him with sounds that made him twitch in her mouth.

Moments later, she sat up, balancing on her knees over his pinned legs. Burke lay naked and panting, arms limp at his sides, body slicked with sweat. He looked so beautiful. She wanted to sketch him like this—his parted lips, the tip of his chin angled down, the sweep of black hair over his forehead, the fluttering of his dark lashes.

Contentment sank into her chest, spreading down her limbs, curling its way around her very bones. She was in love with this man. Completely. Irrevocably. It scared her as much as it soothed her. Each time they gave each other pleasure, she felt a new tie binding herself to him. Each new thing she learned about him tightened the knots.

She climbed off him, crawling up his side until she could curl into him, one arm draped over his naked chest. He shifted slightly, eyes still closed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, half lost to sleep already.

She closed her eyes as her breathing fell into rhythm with his. She was right on the edge of sleep when a rattling sound jerked her awake.

“Burke,” she hissed, trying to cover her nakedness.

He was wide awake in an instant, rolling over as the door opened.

“Only me,” said Renley, slipping into the room.

“Christ, Tom.” Burke flopped back on the bed, breathing hard.

Rosalie blushed furiously, pulling the coverlet up over her breasts. What was it with these men and not knocking on doors?

Renley glanced around the room. He was dressed similar to Burke—black pants and a loose white shirt. The deep “V” of his shirt revealed the swirls of ink on his chest. “So…James really must be contrite,” he mused.

“It would appear so,” Burke muttered. His arm curled around her waist as he tucked into her, not caring that Renley was there.

He may have no questions, but Rosalie did. “Renley, what are you doing?”

“If you’re going to make this work, might I offer two words of caution?” he replied, still leaning against the door. “First, always make sure you’re alone. If you’re not, do try and keep it down. I’ve been lying across the hall listening to the symphony of your shared moans.”

“Oh no,” Rosalie whined with mortification, rolling her face into the pillows. He was right, she’d completely lost hold of her senses. Nothing mattered in the moment but Burke—pleasing him, watching him come apart.

“Second, never forget to lock the door.” To prove his point, Renley turned the latch, locking all three of them in the room together. He swept through into Burke’s adjoining room and Rosalie could only imagine he was doing the same to that door.

He came back with a pillow tucked under his arm, taking no notice of the very naked Burke stretched at Rosalie’s side. He paused only to blow out the candles flickering on the bedside table. Circling around the end of the bed, he came to Rosalie’s other side and did the same thing to those candles. The only light left in the room came from the dying fire.

Renley tossed the pillow down next to Rosalie and tugged off his shirt. She fought to contain her runaway heart as she took in his beautifully sculpted chest, those broad shoulders and strong arms. The firelight flickered, making the tattoos on his chest dance as he flexed and moved.

He shed his pants next, dropping them to the floor. Burke’s legs were long and lean, adding to his height. In contrast, Renley’s thighs were thick muscle, dusted with soft golden hair. She tried not to focus on his half-hard cock at eye level. She thrilled at the thought of that impressive length filling her. Swallowing her nerves, she scooted back against the curve of Burke’s hip.

Renley flipped back the coverlet and sank down onto the mattress, sliding his legs in before flopping his head down on his pilfered pillow. Burke tucked his face into the nape of Rosalie’s neck until she could feel his warm breath fanning gently between her bare shoulders.

Renley’s presence filled the bed. He was inches from her, completely naked, and making no attempts to touch her. He seemed content to just…fall asleep.

“Renley…”

“Is this alright?” he whispered. “I’m so tired. And I know you want more time,” he added. “I won’t ask you for anything. I just…need to be where you are.”

Her heart split open at the words. With a slow exhale, she let her doubts melt away. If he wanted Marianne, he would be with Marianne now. Renley wanted her. So much so that he couldn’t stay away, even after hearing her with his friend.

She reached for him in the dark, running her hand through his soft curls, as she melted against his lips, drinking in that taste of bottled sunshine. Burke’s arm stayed looped around her waist as Renley inched closer, his hardness brushing against her thigh as their mouths opened to each other.

His kisses made her drunk. She could live off the kisses of these men forever. Who needed air or food? Trivial compared to the ambrosia of Renley’s taste on her tongue. She sighed as she felt his calloused hand cup her breast. His fingers tweaked her nipple, sending a jolt of want shivering over her skin. But then he dropped his hand away, breaking their kiss too.

“Goodnight, Rose,” he murmured, sliding back an inch to give her space.

In moments, she felt the breathing of both men even out. This time last night, she was running from them, certain neither would ever choose her. They wouldn’t possibly put her first. Now they were naked in her bed, folded in her arms.

I need to be where you are.

She repeated the words like a prayer.

I need to be where you are.

As content as she felt knowing Burke and Renley were here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Not something…someone.

James.

She sighed, heart heavy. James Corbin, the man who couldn’t let himself be loved. The man who perhaps needed love the most. Was he still awake somewhere in the depths of the house? Undoubtedly. Was he all alone in his study, pouring over accounts, making lists, thinking of her too…

Curled between his two closest friends, Rosalie resolved herself to breaking through his tough outer walls. She had more than enough love to give, and Burke and Renley seemed willing to share. Would James ever believe she could love them all? Could he let himself love her in return?