His Grace, The Duke: Second Sons Book Two
His Grace, The Duke: Chapter 72

Burke watched Rosalie cross the room towards them, fierce love burning in his chest. He wanted to drag her upstairs right here and now. All three of them. Leave the guests to their quiches and cakes. They’d consummate this new union in the duke’s bed all night. Every night until kingdom come.

Well, perhaps not his bed. No, George’s bed would have to be burned. There was no other option. Here and at Alcott. And the furniture too. Burke could only imagine the ways in which all George’s chairs had been used and abused over the years. And the carpets too.

Suffice it to say Burke would be overseeing a total renovation of the duke’s chambers. Then and only then would he claim his lovers in those rooms. They’d have to improvise for now. He was about to turn and mutter something to that effect to the others when Rosalie stilled, her dark eyes going wide with panic. Before he could blink, she was darting away from them.

Tom frowned. “What the—”

“Where the hell is she going?” James muttered.

Burke was the tallest of the three, if only by a few inches. He tried to see what drew Rosalie away, but the room was filling with people.

The crowd parted slightly, and Burke saw her near the wall, squarely in front of Marianne. Christ, the woman looked possessed. Rosalie was inching back as the ladies spoke. “Fucking hell. It’s Marianne.”

Next to him, James tensed. “How did she get in here? I’ll get the footmen to throw her out—”

“No,” said Tom. “This ends now.” He stepped forward, hands balled into fists, ready to throw Marianne out himself.

Suddenly, a fear like Burke had never known filled him. One moment, he was watching Tom stride away. The next, he saw Rosalie forced back. Then Marianne raised the pistol.

All conscious thought left him. He felt only fear. Possessive, desperate, fear. One word filled his senses.

Tom.

Lunging forward, Burke grabbed Tom by the shoulders, shoving him out of the way. He cried out as a lancing pain stabbed him through the chest. He stumbled against Tom, dragging him down. As his shoulder hit the floor, his entire body spasmed, pain radiating through him as if he were on fire.

He groaned, rolling to his back and lifting his left hand to gingerly touch his shoulder. Panting for breath, he pulled his hand away, seeing bright red blood coating his fingertips.

“Damn,” he muttered.

He was shot. How the hell did he go from perfect happiness one moment, to being shot on the floor the next?

Chaos.

Screaming.

Panicked faces.

Hands on him. Touching him. More lancing pain that had him crying out.

One face.

James.

His heartbeat slowed as he reached for him.

James is here.

His hand fluttered uselessly at his side. Why couldn’t he reach him? Darkness closed in at the corners of his vision. He blinked, trying to stay awake.

James was still floating above him, barking out orders. “Tom, go!” He pointed with his free hand, for the other was pressing against Burke’s wound. Then he had his eyes back on Burke. “Stay with me, Burke. Stay awake. There’s a doctor here. He’s coming now. Stay with me.”

The darkness was growing. He panted, trying to swallow his fear. He didn’t want James to see it. “I love you,” he muttered, needing whatever words he spoke now to matter. “I-I love you. James…”

Darkness took him.

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