With the help of a footman, Rosalie was directed to the library. She slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her. It was nothing like the library at Alcott Hall. This was a long, narrow space with dark paneled shelves. A few wide windows took up one wall, letting autumn sunlight pool across the carpets. A seating area framed an ornately carved marble fireplace, which crackled with a cozy fire.
Burke sat on the long red sofa facing the door, waiting for her. He launched to his feet as soon as the door clicked shut.
She leaned back against the door. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath, watching him cross the room towards her. “Never do that again,” she declared. “You embarrassed me in front of Mrs. Robbins. In front of—”
She didn’t get the rest of her admonishment out before Burke had her in his arms, his mouth covering hers, silencing her words with a passionate kiss. His hands cupped her face before sliding into her hair, digging into her messy curls as he tipped her head back. She was lost for a moment in the feel of him, the strength of his arms, the rich taste of coffee on his tongue, bitter and warm.
He pressed her into the door with his hips and broke their kiss, his lips seeking purchase lower on her jaw, her neck, the exposed “V” of her breasts. The door rattled as their weight shifted and the fog of lust around Rosalie cleared.
“Wait,” she gasped, pushing against him. “Burke, wait—stop—” She broke free of him, slipping under his arm.
He turned on his heel to follow.
It was a mistake to come to him like this. She couldn’t think clearly when he was looking at her. She needed space. Heavens, she needed a chaperone. Nothing else could guarantee she behaved, not when her emotions felt so enflamed by his mere presence. No man had ever made her feel so…wild. It scared her as much as it excited her. She didn’t like feeling so out of control.
She spun around when she reached the bookshelves and he was right there, boxing her in. She flung out both hands, pressing against his chest. “We are not doing this. We need to talk—”
“Then talk,” he growled, his hands holding tight to her shoulders as he dropped his face to her neck, eagerly breathing in her scent.
She bit back a whimper. Her body was a traitor, melting for him as she felt the stubble of his jaw against her skin. She shivered with want, hands fisting his coat lapels. “Burke, I’m so angry at you. I’m angry at—everything—”
His hands lowered back to her hips as he gave her another desperate, claiming kiss.
She jerked free with a gasp. “No! You’re a beast and I could scream.” She shoved against him. “I’m furious and hurt and-and desperate for you. I can’t—I hardly even know myself!”
His hands tightening on her hips. “Show me,” he rasped in her ear. “I want all your rage, your passion.” His hands slid up her hips, over her breasts. “Unleash it on me. Show me how I make you feel. Christ, I need it.”
Something inside her snapped and she was fighting him for dominance in another bruising kiss. “You make me crazy,” she hissed. “Why did you agree to this? I watched you dance with Olivia. You couldn’t warn me?” She tried to jerk away. “She’s your fiancée! Oh god—you’re a devil sent to ruin me—”
“And you’re the siren who’s bewitched me!” He held both her wrists with one large hand, raising his other to her mouth, brushing her lips with his thumb.
She blinked back tears at the look of hurt in his eyes.
“You’ve upended my entire life, ripped out my heart, laid bare my fucking soul. I can’t escape this pull—can’t escape you.” He gripped her jaw tight, raising her chin to meet his stormy eyes. “You can run, and I will follow. I will always follow because we belong together. You know it too. So, stop bloody fighting it.”
He spun her around, his own anger overpowering hers as he pressed her against the shelves. She stifled a moan as his hot mouth sucked on the nape of her neck. Meanwhile, his hands worked feverishly to raise the front of her dress.
“Burke, someone could come in. They’ll see—”
“Let them see,” he panted. “Let them hear us. I hope they’re right outside the goddamn door. I want them to hear you cry out my name.” His left hand snaked around, cupping her sex, opening her with his fingers. At the first touch, they both groaned, aching with that perfect moment of connection.
She pushed her hips against his hand, desperate for more friction. “Oh god—”
His breath was hot in her ear as his right hand came between her legs from behind, two fingers sinking deep inside her.
She gasped, knees almost buckling. This was an entirely new sensation. Both his strong hands pleasured her at once. She bit back a cry as his wet mouth pressed kisses to her neck.
“You’re going to come for me. Now. Hard and fast. Beg me for it.”
“Burke,” she whimpered.
“Not good enough.” He nearly lifted her off her toes with the force of his fingers burying themselves inside her. “You make me desperate, Rosalie. I’m mad for you. You’re mine.”
Rosalie sighed with longing, opening her legs wider.
“You think I had a choice? They forced me to hurt you with that display in the ballroom. I couldn’t warn you—couldn’t get to you in time.”
Rosalie was ready to tip over the edge. She pressed her forehead into the curve of her arm, eyes shut tight as she rode both his hands. “Burke, please…”
“You’re so beautiful when you beg. But I’m not ready to end your suffering. I’ve been dying a slow death for hours, desperate to be near you, to hold you in my arms.” He teased her with tongue and teeth on that soft spot behind her ear. “I searched for you the moment the waltz ended and what did I find?”
“Burke—”
“You and James missing. Gone like a puff of smoke. No word. No note. You ripped the air from my chest. You left me on my knees, aching for you.”
His fingers circled back up to her sensitive bud. She sighed as he found it, giving it the lightest touch that made her toes curl.
“Then I had to come here and find you being measured for your fucking trousseau. I could kill him for it,” he growled. “You’re mad? I’m livid. I see only red. I see only you. God, you own me. I can’t breathe. Can’t think—”
His words were barely registering. Rosalie was too lost in the pleasure he gave her. She needed this release like she needed air. “Burke, please,” she whimpered. “Finish me—”
Burke pinched her bud and she shattered. It wasn’t the slow, cresting waves of euphoria she rode with him last night. This was a desperate kind of release that clawed its way out of her. It was like breaking the surface after nearly drowning in deep water.
She sagged against the bookshelves, legs shaking. Her breath was ragged as he pulled his hands away, leaving her empty and wanting more. The skirts of her new dress fluttered down around her legs as he stepped back. She turned to face him, still leaning against the shelves. “I’m sorry we took off like that. It was selfish. But it wasn’t about you.”
His eyes shot up and he scowled at her.
“Well…it wasn’t entirely about you,” she admitted. “From my first night at Alcott everything changed and I just…I needed perspective and I couldn’t get it there. I was lost in the dark. I couldn’t see my own hand before my eyes. And James—”
“Was more than willing to offer you a new perspective. Yes, I’m aware.”
Clearly, he was still angry. It was settling in his shoulders and swirling in his eyes. She gasped as some of his words finally registered. “Wait…what did you say about a trousseau?”
He glowered and turned away.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me.”
His shoulder stiffened.
“Oh, Burke…do you think I mean to marry James? Is that the new perspective you think I seek?” She put a hand on each of his shoulders. “Burke, look at me.” She waited until she had his eyes before saying, “I am not engaged to James. I told you last night what happened between us. He doesn’t want me in that way. If you don’t trust him at his word, trust me at mine: I am not now, nor will I ever be engaged to James Corbin.”
“I thought you ran off with him to elope,” he admitted. “Everyone did. We all—everyone said it. They were so sure. It was the only thing that made sense.” He dragged both hands through his black hair, looking anywhere but at her.
She reached for him again and he stiffened. “You’re shaking,” she whispered. “Oh…Burke…” She wrapped her arms around him.
He stiffened for a moment, but then he was clinging to her. He dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing her in as he pressed his face to the curve of her neck. “I thought you were eloping with him,” he said again. “Oh god, I thought—”
He thought he lost her. He thought she heard the news of his engagement last night and rushed off to London to marry his best friend to spite him. No doubt vicious gossips like Elizabeth and Blanche spun him up, painting a sordid picture of what must have happened between Rosalie and James—hours alone in a carriage, this house to themselves, then Burke arriving to find her being fitted for a new wardrobe that did indeed rival a trousseau.
She kissed his forehead. “I would never do that to you,” she murmured against his brow. “I would never hurt you in such a way. I am not half so spiteful I would consider trapping myself in marriage as a suitable punishment for you being forced into a fake engagement.”
His head lifted off her shoulder. “It’s never going to happen.”
She smiled sadly. “You may not have a choice. You would marry her to protect James—”
“No,” he growled, forcing her to look at him. “It will never happen. Do you hear me? I will never marry her.”
“You cannot lose your position because of me. I will not shoulder that burden.” Her eyes closed as she fought back tears. “Oh god, I should go,” she whispered. “I told James I would go. I have done nothing but disrupt all your lives. I will keep hurting you if I stay—”
“No.” His hands were impossibly gentle as they cupped her face. “Leave, and I will follow. Have I not proved that already?”
The words broke her heart, even as they shored it up again. “Burke, stop letting me in,” she whispered. “I’m no good at this. Needing someone and being needed. I’ll hurt you, and I couldn’t bear it. Please…just push me away. Save yourself—”
“Never,” he replied. “What did you say to me last night?”
His smile made her melt. The grey in his eyes was a storm she wanted to get lost in. “We said many things—”
“You are my siren,” he murmured. “I hear only your call. This thing with Lady Olivia will get sorted one way or another. I really don’t care. I only care about this.” He kissed her again, his lips soft and seeking. “I care about you. About us. I make you this vow: I will marry you, or no one.”
