His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two

Pain seared through Burke’s shoulder. He winced, blinking awake. His entire body felt…wrong. His limbs were heavy, his vision groggy, and his mouth felt full of cotton. He tried to take in the features of the room. Corbin House. His bedroom. Daytime. The curtains were open halfway, letting light pool into the room by the fireplace.

“Oh, he’s awake.”

That voice. He needed to see the face that made the sounds. He turned his head, wincing as even that much movement jostled his shoulder. He blinked again, taking in Rosalie’s face. She smiled down at him, dabbing his brow with a wet cloth.

“Burke? Are you awake?”

He grunted. “Yes.”

She sighed with relief, her lips pressing to his brow in a hurried kiss.

“James,” he muttered. “Tom.”

“Here.” James stepped forward, sitting on the side of the bed, and taking his left hand in his. “I’m right here.”

He took another breath. “How long have I been out?”

“Three days,” James replied. “The doctor gave you laudanum each time you came to. We needed you not to move. You couldn’t agitate your shoulder any more than…”

“Any more than being shot already agitated it?”

Rosalie worried her bottom lip. “We weren’t sure how much you’d remember.”

The details were fuzzy, but the picture was complete. “I remember everything,” he mumbled. “How bad is it?”

“The bullet went through your back and out your shoulder,” James explained. “The doctor says you’re very lucky. You nearly bled to death.”

At those words, Rosalie sank forward, pressing her face next to his, kissing him on the cheek. “It was so awful.” She brushed his hair back from his brow. “We were so frightened. Doctor Evans saved your life.”

“I’m alright,” he said, wincing in pain as Rosalie jostled him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her. He didn’t want her to move away. “I can’t…” He took a breath, afraid to say the words out loud. “James…I feel like I can’t move my arm.”

James nodded. “Evans said that might be possible…and it might be permanent.”

Burke closed his eyes, letting the words sink in.

“You’ll have pain, certainly,” James went on. “Stiffness, perhaps some numbness, even down to your fingers. Evans says you may have trouble with the whole hand. He’ll be here in a few hours to check on your again.”

Burke nodded, then glanced around. “Where’s Tom?”

They both looked over their shoulders towards the corner of the room.

With a heavy sigh, he heard Tom call from the corner. “I’m here.”

“Well, I can’t really sit up at the moment, so I’m going to need you to come over here where I can see you,” Burke replied.

He heard Tom get out of the chair and stomp across the room, sitting on the other side of the bed.

Burke let himself look at Tom—his golden curls, his strong jaw, his deep blue eyes…deep blue eyes full of hurt, wariness…regret. “What happened?” Burke reached for him with his injured arm, but then hissed, wincing in pain.

“Christ man, don’t move it,” Tom muttered.

Burke sank back with a tired sigh. “Look at you. I’m the one who gets shot, yet you intend to carry the pain of it.”

Tom just shook his head, still not looking at him.

“Shall we have Rosalie fetch the paper knife from my desk? Want me to stab it in your shoulder so we’re even?”

“Stop,” Rosalie begged. “That’s not funny—”

“I’m not trying to make him laugh,” Burke replied. “Tom, look at me.”

Tom tensed, biting his bottom lip.

“Look at me,” he said more gently.

Tom lifted his eyes, meeting his gaze.

“I am alive, and this was not your fault.”

Tom groaned, trying to move away.

“Goddamn it, Tom, don’t you dare turn away from me! I took a bullet for you. So, you are going to sit here at my bedside, and you’re going to tell me why.”

Tom stilled, his face a mask of deepest misery. “Why what?”

“Why did I do it? Why did I take a bullet for you?”

Tom crossed his arms. “Because you’re a good person and you saw a chance to save a life.”

Burke chuckled, the sound dying in his throat as it jostled his shoulder. “Wrong. I am a terrible person. I’m selfish and lazy. I live off the hard work of others, and I am more than content to lie, cheat, and steal to get what I want. And I have no warrior’s heart. I can’t even bear to be in the stall when they put an injured horse down. So, try again. Why?”

Tom’s eyes flashed over to him, even if he quickly looked away. “Because we are friends—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he snarled. “What happened to Rosalie the last time she tried to use that word?”

Ah, progress. That raised some color in Tom’s cheeks. “That was a condition for Rosalie,” he muttered.

“It applies to you too,” Burke replied. “Call me that again, and see what happens.”

Tom pursued his lips, looking at him at last. “You’ve just been shot. I’d like to see you try it.”

“Oh, I won’t have to lift a finger,” he countered. “I’ll make you do all the work. Or you could just tell me what I want to hear. Why did I take a bullet for you?”

Tom glanced across him at James and Rosalie, who sat still, watching their contest of wills unfold. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Say it.”

Tom licked his lips, eyes still closed. “Because you love me,” he whispered.

“And?”

“And I’m yours.” Slowly, Tom opened his eyes again, his hand dropping to cover Burke’s resting atop the coverlet.

A warmth that had nothing to do with the fire in his shoulder spread through Burke’s body. Fierce love and protectiveness rose inside him like a fire-breathing dragon. “And what does that mean, Tom? Look at me and say it.”

Tom swallowed, lifting his eyes to Burke’s face. “No one touches what is yours.”

“Damn right,” he replied. “Is she dead?”

Tom shook his head.

“Well, if I ever see again, she will be. Mark me,” he intoned, feeling the heat of his oath warm his chest. If he ever saw Marianne Young again, it would be she who took a bullet. He didn’t care if the woman was mad. No one was going to threaten his family.

He glanced back at Tom, wiggling the fingers of his weak arm. “I love you, Tom Renley, and you are mine. You’re all mine,” he added, glancing over at James and Rosalie. “I take what I want, and I protect what I take. Let’s not make it a habit of testing my will again, but now you all know. There is no limit to what I would do for you. Any of you.”

Tom fell forward on top of Burke, his face pressed to his stomach as he gripped his hips. “I thought you were dead. Oh god, Burke. You were so still and covered in blood. I thought I lost you right when I’d finally found you, and it was my fault—”

James dropped Burke’s good hand to let Burke brush his fingers through Tom’s curls. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t make her pull the trigger. Tom, kiss me and put it behind you.”

Tom lifted off Burke’s hips and leaned over to kiss him once, twice. Chaste pecks, but Burke would take what he could get.

James put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, you were brilliant. You saved Rosalie, which is what was more important in the moment. If something had happened to her, to any of you…” He glanced at each of them, swallowing his words as fierce love overcame him.

Rosalie scooted closer to Burke, brushing her fingers against his brow.

“In the moment, my focus was on Burke,” James went on, looking again at Tom. “I needed you to be there for her, and you were. We’re all here for each other. We are…trees.” His lips quirked into a reluctant grin.

Tom’s brows lifted. “You really mean it, J?”

James smiled. “If Burke is a tree, and Rosalie is a tree, then I must be a tree as well, eh? Roots entangled, we will always support each other. Yes?”

Tom nodded as Rosalie glanced curiously from one to the other. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this tree business. What on earth are you talking of?”

Burke let his eyes close, settling back against the pillows with a contended smile as his three loves spoke softly atop him. He didn’t care what they called each other—lovers, partners, trees, umbrellas. So long as they were together, he’d let them call him whatever the hell they wanted. He sank back into sleep, one hand in Tom’s, one hand in James’, with Rosalie’s fingers smoothing the hair off his brow.