What in the blazes was he doing? Katherine slowly turned, aware of his every breath as Benedict's lips grazed her ear, his gloved hands moved to either side of her head, one lifted, and a small light entered into their alcove, enough to gain her bearings.
“We’re so close to the stage.”
“Yes, funny thing that, it seems this box hasn’t been used for near a decade.”
“Why?”
“Well.” He pulled the curtains back even wider but not enough for them to be viewed by anyone. “It was said that Count Von Luxemburg killed his wife in this very box. Nobody has taken it since. It is also quite close to the middle class, which is of course, frowned upon.”
Katherine nodded. “I see.”
He tensed behind her.
“So you’ve taken me here to frighten me? To explain that if I don’t marry you, my fate will be the same as the countess, is that right?”
“My, my.” His hot breath scalded her neck. “What a fun little imagination you have packed up in here.” His hand dipped into her coiffure, brushing her skull and causing tremors. “Unfortunately, I brought you to this abandoned box so you wouldn’t need to stare at Paisley all night, and also so you could enjoy the opera.”
“I am enjoying it,” she fired back, clearly irritated.
“Really?” His whisper mocked her.
“Yes.”
“Then what, pray tell, is the name of the opera?”
Katherine swallowed. Blast, she had no idea. Not one clue, but surely all operas were similar? “I don’t remember, but it is very romantic.”
His body shook with laughter behind her. “It’s a comedy, minx. Le Nozze de Figaro to be exact, and I suspect that if you were truly paying attention, you would be quite entranced by the entire performance.”
She grinned, and focused back at the stage. “What’s happening?”
He didn’t move during the entire act as his lips spoke delicately into her ear translating each movement, each song, as if it was his second nature. When she gasped and began laughing, he laughed with her, his body steel behind her.
The curtains closed for intermission, leaving them once again in utter darkness.
“We should return,” Katherine whispered. “Surely, they will start to worry about us being alone for so long.”
“Do you truly think it could get any worse?” he joked.
Katherine stifled a laugh. “Well, considering most of the ton saw my skirts up past my knees…”
“Glorious looking knees, by the way. I would love to see them again,” he interrupted.
“I thought you were unconscious.”
“Perhaps I stole a peek.”
“Rogue.”
“Always.”
Katherine shivered as his body left hers. She rubbed her arms at the sudden chill. What in the world was wrong with her?
The white of Benedict’s gloves was visible in the darkened box. His hand slowly moved in front of him and then reached for the back of her head.
All was lost.
For she went willingly and quite wantonly into his arms. Not at all sure if it was he who had made the first move or she, and not caring even if she was the guilty party.
His lips parted, a hungry moan escaped them as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. A yearning shot through her at his erotic kiss, causing her hands to clench and tug at his hair. His mouth was hot and sweet, demanding in its pursuit.
Logic had nothing to do with the way she arched her back into his embrace, allowing easier access, and then when his hands began purposefully caressing down her chest, she was again lost. Sensations she never knew possible caused her knees to weaken.
Benedict nipped at her neck, and then cursed. “I cannot ruin you at an opera…”
She kissed him hard across the mouth.
“Devil take me… I so desperately want to try,” he mumbled as he nibbled on her lower lip. “I doubt you would thank me come tomorrow morning, nor would you be ecstatic to face your parents once they see you completely disgraced.”
She stiffened and retreated.
“Good choice,” he uttered, mumbling another oath before taking an unsteady breath. “Hell, what the devil is wrong with me?”
Was he speaking rhetorically?
He cursed again, this time kicking something. “I cannot be walking around like some besotted fool, my aunt will have me by my b—” He coughed. “My neck, she’ll have me by the neck, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Your grace,” Katherine spoke up.
But he was truly having a one-sided conversation, so he continued in justifying his actions. “It’s your fault! If you were not a woman…”
Katherine snorted. “Would you rather I be a man?”
“No!” he sputtered. “No, no, no, no. Heavens, no.”
“I believe you.” She covered her laugh.
Was he pacing? She could see movement but wasn’t sure if he was pacing or merely throwing his fist in the air repeatedly.
“I know!”
She had an idea this was not going to end up being an intelligent end to their conversation.
“Hit me.”
“Pardon?” she choked.
“Hit me, or trip me, anything really. I need to be reminded how utterly wrong you are for me, so that when I have moments of weakness — and don’t deny it, I’ve had quite a few as of late — I remember that we will not suit, we cannot suit.”
“So your answer is violence?” she asked.
“Precisely. After all, you’ve threatened my life four times before, why not add a fifth”
“Why not?” Katherine felt anger rise in her chest. The absolute cad! He would rather she strike him down than admit any sort of attraction?
Fine. He would get exactly what he asked for.
“It will be an honor, your grace.” With that, she brought her fist back and landed a blow across his eye that would have done her father quite proud.
Chapter Ten
If Only Women were Allowed at Gentleman Jackson’s…
To his utter shame and complete humiliation, Benedict took at least five minutes to regain consciousness. At least he suspected as much based on the expectant hush that had fallen over the theatre whil waiting for the second act. He refused to entertain the thought that it could have been longer. Being a man, it just wouldn’t be kind.
The throbbing on his cheek and around the tender flesh of his eye screamed in protest as he gently touched the area where Katherine had hit him.
Clearly, she didn’t need to be told twice to inflict pain. Though, to be fair, he had expected she would merely give him a light pat across the shoulder or mayhap even kick him in the shin.
Not, to his great humiliation, give such a remarkable punch that he was rendered senseless for longer than he’d care to admit. Were they allowing women at Jackson's these days? He needed to stop underestimating the chit, his nemesis, his future wife. Bitter pill to swallow, that.
Breath whistled through his teeth as he set himself to rights and checked his body for any other sort of bruising. Naturally, he wouldn’t put it past her to give a good kick after she sent him sailing to the ground.
Although sore, nothing else seemed worse for the wear, but he did have a sneaking suspicion he looked as if he had been on the wrong end of an opening door. With one final oath for good measure, he took another soothing breath and made his way back to the box.
Thankfully, everything was still blanketed in black. Unfortunately for him, he had the devil’s own luck, so it wasn’t all that surprising that the minute his booted foot stepped into his box, the stage lights came to life as the second act began.
And he, the wounded, was no longer in darkness.
Rather blinded by the spectacle in front of him. His eyes focused on the stage and then to his horror, Agatha. Of course the witch was laughing.
“What the devil happened to you?” Agatha said between giggles. At least have a care for the company! What were they to think w
hen she was not even a trifle concerned for his welfare!
“I took a stumble,” he lied. His eyes quickly darted to Katherine.
The minx coughed. “And where pray tell did you stumble, your grace? Dare I ask the condition of the object that ran into your face?” She lifted her hand innocently to touch her cheek and winked. Not a blasted hair out of place. Gloves pristine.
He suddenly had a very vivid image of his hands shaking her tiny little body until she apologized.
Then again, he couldn’t very well have her apologize for something he’d told her to do.
Stupidity seemed to blare in front of his eyes like a bloody sign.
“Benedict!” Agatha scolded. “Really! To leave Lady Katherine all by herself! Heavens! The poor dear was lost for near an hour while you were out fighting imaginary dragons!”
“I was attacked!” he shouted, bringing quite a lot of attention to their box. He swore and quickly took a seat so nobody would be the wiser to his bruise.
“Attacked?” Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Seconds ago you were most unfortunate to allow your clumsiness to get the best of you, and now you were accosted? By what, a child? A door?”
Katherine snorted behind her hand but kept her eyes dancing with amusement. Lord and Lady Kerrington were staring at him as if he had just sprouted an extra head near his ear.
“Well?” Agatha prodded.
“Both.” He closed his eyes. “It was both. You see, I was trying to find Lady Katherine amidst the crowds—”
“—there were no crowds, Benedict, we were all seated.”
“You did not let me finish!” He shifted in his seat. “The crowds of er… air.” Cough, cough. “You see, the air was quite crowded with… dust, lots of dust, and you know I am sensitive to dust, Aunt.”
“Indeed.”
At his silence she leaned in. “Oh, do go on, I believe your tale has just trumped my interest in the opera.”
Lord Kerrington nodded his head in agreement. All eyes on him. He scratched nervously at his neck and cleared his throat. “As I said, the air was crowded with—”
“—dust, yes you’ve said that already,” Katherine piped up cheerfully.
“Right.” He clenched his teeth. “And by the time I was able to set myself to right and go in search of Katherine, who surely must have been confused because of all the…” He choked on his lie.
“Dust,” they said in unison.
“Yes, dust,” he said emphatically. “I wandered into a darkened corner, many of those in the theatre, you know, and promptly took a stumble. My eyes had not yet adjusted to the dust-free area.”
Devil take him, he truly was the worst liar that had ever lived. Plain and simple. Didn’t help one bit that he was sweating through his jacket, nor that his aunt seemed to get more agitated by the minute.
Benedict leaned forward hoping to gain the attention of everyone and end this mortifying night. “I heard a scream.”
“No!” Lady Kerrington gasped.
He smiled cheerfully. “Why yes, and I being the strong, courageous…”
“—Don’t forget dust sensitive,” Katherine piped up again.
“Dust sensitive,” he ground out. “Ahem… man that I am, I went in search of the damsel. I’m happy to announce I made it just in time to save the woman in distress no worse for the wear!”
Odd nobody was clapping. Should he not be honored for his bravery, fake though it may be?
Agatha chuckled. “Interesting. For Katherine said both of you were merely lost and in a moment of panic she accidently hit you in the face because she thought she saw a rat.”
“But,” Benedict sputtered. “You asked…”
“Bravo!” Lord Kerrington slapped Benedict hard on the back. “Your Grace, my daughter was just regaling us with your ability to tell stories. I say, jolly good one! My dear,” he looked to Katherine. “You were right. He does possess a certain talent. Thank you for allowing us to see it firsthand.”
“Of course.” She winked at Benedict and crossed her arms.
He gave a nervous laugh. “Ah yes, I do enjoy telling falsehoods in order to entertain others.”
“Good man, good sense of humor, good man.” Lord Kerrington was still chuckling.
Benedict scooted closer to Katherine and grasped her hand hard within his.
She squeaked but otherwise made no movement.
“I have half a mind to strangle you.” He felt his jaw clench in frustration.
“But, your grace?” Katherine turned her deep blue eyes toward him and whispered, “Then you would no longer be able to kiss me, and you do enjoy that, don’t you?”
Before he could speak, she shushed him. “No, no, you’ve had quite the ordeal tonight, your grace. Pray, do not exert yourself any further. Besides, you’ve kissed a woman, lived through a fight and apparently a terrible bout with dust. You deserve your rest. Just remember this one thing.”
“What’s that?” Curse his voice for being hoarse with need.
“This round goes to me.”
“Minx.”
“Rogue.”
“Flirt.”
“Devil.”
He sighed. “Agreed. I have been bested.”
“Why, your grace!” Her eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her face if he wanted to. “How sporting of you.”
And then, the woman, the very same one who had threatened his life so many years before, managed the impossible.
She didn’t sneak, but rather stomped right into his heart, threatening something much more dangerous than his life.
His absolute and utter devotion.
Devil take him, he’d be shocked if he lasted the two weeks without his heart, soul, life, and everything else he possessed on a platter before the girl.
The whole idea that she could enter into his life so quickly and steal his very small heart made him deuced uncomfortable. She was more than a pretty face, and despite his desire to bed her, he found himself wanting to wed her. Perhaps he was going mad? It may be the only explanation as to why he continued to stop himself from fully ruining her, from making her his. Though his body ached with need, for the first time in his life, he was putting another human being ahead of himself. It was such an odd feeling that he found he almost needed to sit before his knees buckled beneath him sending him to the floor.
What was this foreign feeling? Would it ever go away? Or was the only cure the very same girl that both provoked and inflamed him?
He wasn’t going to last a week.
Then again, she wasn’t sure she was going to last the carriage ride home. The man was altogether too large to fit in that stifling carriage.
After his aunt accidently tread on her father's foot with her cane, well, he’d felt a bruised foot as well as a bruised ego, no doubt.
Meaning, her parents had left the opera early.
Thanking the heavens that she still had Benedict’s fire-breathing aunt with them, Katherine soon realized her joy would be short-lived. When the very dragon toppled over in her chair.
“Oh, you two stay, stay! After all, you are betrothed.”
“I will see that Lady Katherine reaches her home this evening,” Benedict had drawled, his smirk giving way to the utter satisfaction he most likely felt with Katherine in his clutches again.
“Well, if you insist.” The dowager looked to Katherine.
“I would be delighted to stay and watch the remainder of the opera with his grace.”
“Well, that’s settled!” The dowager nodded her head slowly. The poor thing did look quite put out; perhaps she was coming down with a cold? Which is exactly what she had suggested to Benedict.
He laughed, and stated that she was known for having a list of ailments, all of which were nonexistent but always helpful in her manipulations and strategies.
They were silent during the rest of the opera.
And in the carriage.
Until, all of a sudden Benedict stopped the carriage a block from
her house. “You cannot be silent!”
“Why ever not?” she near shouted.
“It isn’t like you!”
“Pardon?”
“Silence? Beauty? Intelligence? Devil take me, it isn’t at all like you! Be disagreeable. Saints alive, help a man out! It would be so much easier to marry a woman who was… was…”
She must have hit him harder than she thought.
“Let me see if I understand you correctly. You desire for me to be undesirable.”
“Bloody hell, yes!” He lifted his eyes heavenward and sighed happily. “Do you not understand? I was just getting used to the idea of being married, of being forced — nay, coerced, perhaps manipulated is a better word? Yes, manipulated — into marrying you! At least then, I knew I could keep my distance. After all, you’d probably send me to an early grave, and then I wouldn’t have to suffer along side you in holy matrimony.”
“How romantic.”
He shrugged. He would shrug at a time like this. Devil take him.
“But now, don’t you see how much more difficult it is going to be for me to be… Well, to be…” He bit his lip and scowled.
“Selfish?” she offered.
“Yes!” he roared. “Now wait one minute, I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s selfish for a man to want to live his life without the irritation of a woman by his side.”
“Your words are like poetry,” she gushed mockingly.
Banbury glared. “I do not want marriage. Least of all with a woman who can throw a right punch with the best of them, nor one who I can’t imagine without pigtails. Besides, she picked you.”
“By she you mean the dowager? Were we not just discussing this last night? She picked me for your cousin, not for you. Truly, you need to learn the art of humility.”
“She tricked me,” he said, ignoring her. “Besides, you’re stuck with me. Forget the courting, hang it all! You will marry me, and you will be boring!”
Perhaps she should tell the footman to take them to Bedlam instead of her home. “Are you unwell?” She leaned forward and lifted a hand to his cheek.
“Why the blazes would I be well? A few days ago, I was happily drinking the night away at a gambling Hell. And now, now, I’m… going to the opera with my aunt of all people! Along with my soon-to-be wife. By God, I’m going to have a wife…” He leaned his head back against the seat.
A Renwick House Christmas Boxed Set Page 18