Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One
Beautiful Things: Chapter 35

Rosalie stumbled to the edge of the tree line, tugging on her heavy riding skirt as it caught on another branch. What a sight she made—broken hat in hand, riding habit torn, hair a tangled mess, skirt six inches deep in mud…and with no sign of Magellan. It was time to trudge back to the house and admit to James that she lost the horse.

She broke through the trees at the edge of a grassy field and paused, one hand clutching her side as she winced in pain. Her head, shoulder, and side all ached, and her vision still felt fuzzy in the bright light. She raised a hand to shield her eyes. From this angle, the great house sat perched like a bird of stone on a hill of grass. The gardens were just visible, peeking out like a colorful nest. How had she stumbled so far away? Fisting her skirts in both hands, she took a deep breath and began walking.

What had she done in a past life to deserve such terrible luck? To walk every moment through trial after trial, her life becoming just one long lesson in pain and self-denial. A cruel, wastrel of a father, dead too soon. Debts that ate at her mother’s soul until they killed her…far too soon. An aunt of no means who couldn’t afford to care for her.

Now, for the first time in her life, Rosalie had a chance. She could have a position, respectability, the protection of one of the most illustrious families in the land. But each time she thought of accepting the duchess’ offer, she thought of Burke’s hand on her at the piano. She thought of Renley’s laughing, bright eyes as he discussed his travels. She remembered the feel of James’ breath fanning over her lips. Was she really going to risk it all by doing the one thing the duchess warned her against and form an attachment with one of these men?

No, Rosalie couldn’t allow it. She had to be strong. She had to—

“Rosalie!”

She turned, trying to track the direction of the caller. Hoofbeats pounded the ground. She could feel them pulsing in her bones. He was coming for her.

“Rosalie!”

She spun the other way, facing into the sun as the imposing figure approached. A dark-haired man on a powerful black horse.

Burke.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She was so used to fighting her own battles. She was utterly, wretchedly alone. She’d learned to live with it. Heavens, she embraced it. No one wanted or needed her, so she had to learn to want the same. And she did, with every fibre of her being. It was safer this way. She didn’t get hurt this way…

Burke reined his horse to a halt and swung out of the saddle, the tails of his coat fluttering behind him. He had eyes only for her. That look sang through her, coiling around her bones, burying itself in her lungs as she took a gasping breath. The storms in his eyes were as violent as she’d ever seen them. He crossed to her side, head and shoulders towering over her as he blocked out the sun. His hands cupped her face, firm but gentle, as his fingers slid into her hair, pushing back the mess of her loosened dark curls.

He pulled her closer, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent as she dared to do the same. His usual mulled sweetness was gone. Now he was all sweat and salt and sun. Her soul calmed at his touch, even as a fire raced in her blood.

Safe alone. Always alone, the voice inside cautioned. It was a habit formed over a lifetime, and so difficult to break. No, Burke was different. He came for her, seeking her out, missing her, wanting her. I’m not alone when I’m with him.

She raised her hands, clutching the lapels of his coat. His relief sang out as he lowered his face to hers. Those beautiful eyes locked on her, asking a silent question, begging to be let in. His forehead pressed ever so gently against hers as they shared one fleeting moment of perfect understanding.

Come in, her soul whispered.

His lips pressed to hers, warm and eager and determined. She lost herself in the feel of him, in the way his body pressed against hers. His hands dug into her hair as he tipped her face up, opening her to his kiss. She drank of him, tasting the salt on his lips, feeling the heat of his mouth ready to consume her.

She was shaking, core molten as she pressed closer. She moaned softly into the kiss as his tongue flicked against her bottom lip. The sound had him tensing as one hand dropped away from her face, banding around her shoulders. As he pulled her closer, she winced. Burke heard and felt her pained reaction. He let her go with such speed it left her spinning. They stood together, her hands still clenching his coat.

His stormy eyes narrowed on her. “Christ, love, are you hurt?”

The use of an endearment made her stomach flip. She wanted to hear him say it again. She felt certain she could hear it a thousand times and still replace joy in it…even as she knew her impulse should be to tell him to stop.

He tipped her chin left then right, gently stroking the tender spot on her temple. She winced and he dropped his hand away. She could only wonder what she looked like. His fingers brushed the large tear at her shoulder. “Are you hurt?” he repeated, his voice a command.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “My shoulder took the worst of it,” she said, gesturing at the frayed sleeve. “And I bumped my head. It aches, but I’m fine. Nothing bruised but my pride.”

“Thank God,” he said, placing a soft kiss at her temple. “What the hell happened?”

“A herd of deer,” she said. “They came out of nowhere, and my mount bolted into the trees. I let myself fall as we approached a low-hanging limb.”

“Christ, it could have been so much worse.” He kissed her forehead again. “The horse found his way back already. He appeared without you and the whole house was in uproar.”

Relief flooded her. “Oh, Burke, is he all right? I’ve been looking for him for ages. I couldn’t just go back empty handed. I couldn’t leave him out here to get hurt—”

Burke put a comforting hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it. “He’s fine, love. Safe and home…where you should be.” He said this last as he lowered his face to hers again, his voice soft in her ear. It sent another jolt of heat straight to her core. As if he sensed the change in her, his shoulders tensed. Heavens, they were almost too in tune.

“Can you bear to ride again? It will be faster than walking and we need to call off the search,” he said.

“What search?”

“James and George and the others,” he replied, stepping away to go retrieve his horse. “It was quite the event when Magellan came tearing through the ladies’ lawn games.” He laughed as he snagged his stallion’s reins.

Her mind filled with the image of little Magellan crashing into the middle of a garden party and she smiled, cheeks burning with mirth until a laugh bubbled out of her. She glanced up to see Burke watching her, his eyes hooded.

“I feel your every laugh in the center of me. Right here,” he murmured, pressing his fist against the middle of his chest. He looked almost surprised that he was admitting so much. He tugged on his mount’s reins, leading it over.

She let her eye drop down his handsome form as he walked, taking in those broad shoulders, the narrow cut of his hips, his long legs. Those breeches where a gift from Aphrodite herself. Rosalie’s mouth tipped into a grin as she noted the strength of his thighs through the tight fabric.

He crossed the distance between them and stepped in close, tipping her face up to meet his eyes. His lips were slightly parted as he leaned in, his voice heavy with want. “Look at me like that again, and I’ll gladly take you into those trees and kiss you until you come apart.” He dared to trace his thumb over her mouth. “Before I’m done, my name will be a prayer on these perfect lips.”

With a shuddering gasp, her resolve shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. She kissed him again. This time she took charge, raising her hand to grip the back of his neck and pull him down to her. He kept one hand on the reins, but the other dropped around her waist. His touch was overly gentle as he tried to be cautious of her injuries. But she didn’t care about the pain. She wanted him on fire, burning as she was from the inside out. With a whimper, she opened her mouth to him. A shiver of desire had her trembling as his tongue eagerly pressed in. She wanted more, more.

He pulled away first. “Christ, Rosalie,” he cursed, taking a step back. “We can’t do this here,” he said, eyes darting around the clearing.

Riding the high of his kiss was everything, but his words sent her plummeting to earth like a heavy stone. “You’re right,” she murmured, feeling her emotions closing in on her, readying themselves to be forced back in their cage. “We can’t do this.”