“And an apoplectic fit if you don’t calm down,” she added.
He glared. “My thanks. That was ever so helpful in putting my mood in a better state.”
“I don’t love you,” she stated rather boldly.
He opened his eyes and burst out laughing. “Truly, a man can’t hear that enough. It is akin to a woman confessing that she only has days to live and has never been with a man, or when the proprietor suddenly announces that the whiskey is free.”
“You don’t love me.”
He paused.
Good God, why was he pausing?
The air in the carriage swam with tension.
“No?” The word hung as a question between them. He blinked his eyes a few times as if trying to ascertain that they were still functioning, a side effect of the dust no doubt.
“No.” She nodded and leaned forward. “But, your grace. We are stuck. Let us think nothing more of crying off or trying to best one another. Can we not simply be friends?”
“Marriage and friendship?” He looked skeptical as his eyebrows drew together.
She nodded.
“I guess this means you won’t try to be boring.”
“I cannot be what I am not.”
His eyes narrowed.
She cleared her throat and patted his hand. “Just like you cannot help but be disagreeable and grumpy with a nasty habit of forgetting to smile.”
Banbury opened his mouth to speak, but she kept talking.
“And let us not forget your horrid talent at telling a fib. Gracious, my three-year-old niece could do it better. Dust? Really?”
“In my defense, I am sensitive.”
She grinned. “Remind me to bring dust to our ceremony.”
“Wouldn’t shock me at all if you arrived with pistols firing, let alone dust.”
“It would be less than you deserve,” she added.
“Minx.” He tapped the roof of the carriage and sighed. “Friends?” His hand was outstretched in a manner signaling a peace of sorts. So why, when her gloved hand touched his, did she feel that she had just made a deal with the devil?
He smiled.
She gulped. Because the truth hit her full force. She didn’t feel like she had made a deal with the devil. The deal was already done, and the devil looked quite pleased.
Chapter Eleven
What’s a Devil to Do?
He was worse than a woman. His own mood swings were driving him mad; he could only imagine how Katherine felt. That was, if he was one to care about others’ feelings, which of course, he wasn’t.
He was the devil after all.
It was morning, precisely two days since the dreaded ball where his life had been changed forever, and less than twenty-four hours since his last erotic kiss with the woman that was to be his wife. By his calculations, he had less than two weeks before the Kringle Ball. The very same ball that would seal his fate as a leg-shackled duke.
When had he lost control of his life?
Was it the day he’d stepped into Agatha’s house? Or perhaps the very second he decided to accept her invitation?
And now he was stuck.
With a wife he didn’t want. Well, that was to say he didn’t emotionally want her. Wanting her physically was quite another topic entirely. His body replayed images of her responsive kiss over and over again until his only solace was whiskey.
He finished half the bottle. Not a proud moment since he wasn’t one to normally drink alone.
The problem was he saw no way out of this predicament. Contrary to popular notion, he truly did possess a heart, though it was small, and at times he did wonder if it worked properly. Especially considering he rarely felt guilty for ruining women left and right. It had always been a sport, a way to pass time, an entertaining amusement.
But now, he had one woman. One irritatingly attractive woman who was depending on him to make one right decision amidst all the bad ones.
He swallowed, suddenly wishing he wasn’t nursing a headache or nausea, for the whiskey called out to him again.
There was no way out of the mess.
It would be helpful if the chit would at least be agreeable. His demands were straightforward and honest, but in the end, it wouldn’t have mattered if she tried to be boring. Her eyes shone with intelligence.
Nor if she tried to be indifferent; her mouth often curved into a mischievous smile when she thought nobody was watching.
But he watched.
He noticed.
Devil take him, he was actually falling for a woman who wasn’t his mistress.
Which meant he was in danger of creating the biggest scandal the ton would ever see or talk about for centuries.
The Devil Duke was successfully becoming besotted with the very woman he was going to marry.
Wonders never ceased.
He smiled, despite a herculean effort not to, and took a slow sip of coffee.
“Your grace, this just came for you. It is urgent that you respond straight away.” His butler bowed, but made no move to leave.
Benedict took the letter into his hand and broke the seal.
A house party.
Gads, he hadn’t been to a house party in years.
He continued reading.
The party was to be thrown at Lord Marks' estate just outside London.
A holiday party.
His mind worked sluggishly through the details. It would be endless days filled with ice-skating and games.
It sounded like the exact opposite of something he would normally agree to.
Which was why, when he wrote his acceptance, he nearly banged his head against the table in order to conjure up part of his old self.
“Deuced idiot is what I am,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes, and contemplated returning to bed.
But then a thought struck him.
A devilish thought, one that brought a cheerful smile to his face and did wonders for his headache.
Katherine.
What he needed was to put her in situations where she would yet again prove disastrous and dangerous, and would successfully kill any sort of attachment he had for her. It would remind him that she was not any type of woman he wanted to marry. This was so simple! The girl was as clumsy as she was beautiful. Put the girl in skates and she would find the thin ice.
He laughed aloud nearly scaring himself in the process, for he had just laughed over the thought of a girl falling into an ice pond.
His smile faded. Did he truly just imagine her beautiful body falling into an icy hole? What in the blazes was wrong with him? Perhaps she could just take a tumble, reminding him again that she was not fit to be a duchess and certainly unfit to be wed.
On the other hand, considering his imagination had run away with him again, mayhap he should return to bed?
No, no, he scolded himself. He had preparations to make.
One day later
Katherine glared at the man sitting opposite her. The carriage hit a bump; she glared harder. Could he not feel the penetration of her stare?
“You’re going to hurt me if you keep glowering at me in that fashion, or worse your eyes will be stuck in that position, and we both know how offensive you find me.” He grinned, his dimples mocking her every nerve.
Drat the man! Days ago, she had not thought him capable of emotion, let alone smiling! And now he was practically enthusiastic. When she agreed to be his friend despite having to marry him, it seemed the best course of action.
In her defense, she had thought to only see him a few more times before the Kringle Ball, and at worse, every day.
But now, she was to spend four days in his company.
In his cousin’s company.
She’d be shocked if she didn’t expire from the emotional turmoil of it all.
Add in ice skating and other games, and she was a ball of nerves. It had been pure luck on her part that she had managed not to accost the duke in the past three days.
Surely her luck was running
out.
Benedict grinned again. Yes, it was most definitely running out.
“Am I to understand that you’ve never ice skated before?” he asked, looking idly amused. If she could call inspecting her gloves and smiling amused.
“I am quite skilled at ice skating, your grace.”
He cursed aloud and leveled her with a glare so intense, she was surprised her face didn’t go up in flames.
“We are to be husband and wife. I believe you can cease from calling me your grace, at least in private.”
“Sorry, Benedict.”
His teeth clenched. “Don’t know why you’d have such trouble saying my name now, you were deuced good at screaming it when you were busy trying to plan my demise.”
Katherine bit her bottom lip trying to keep from smiling. “I was concerned for your welfare.”
“Concerned?” He tilted his head and leaned forward. “Pray tell, were you concerned before or after I was knocked out from a tree branch those many years ago?”
She managed a stoic face. “After.”
“And when I fell off the balcony?”
“Before.”
“Why before?”
“Your aunt was hunting for you that night as well, Benedict, and if memory serves, you had just wagered a thousand pounds that it would rain before morning.”
Benedict’s face turned serious. “How did you know my aunt was chasing me?”
“Oh, you looked quite frantic, which is why I offered you an escape.”
“The escape being my ultimate death?”
“I didn’t say I planned it well,” Katherine argued. At this point, her smile was going to freeze onto her face, permanent that it was.
“Minx, you’ve been trying to ruin me your whole life, admit it.”
Katherine laughed. “Perhaps you’re just upset that I ruined you first, Benedict.” His name came out as a whisper.
Eyes darkening, he leaned forward. “I didn’t know you could ruin a devil.”
“And I didn’t know you could redeem one, yet here we are.”
“Yes.” His hands moved to her shoulders and then her neck. “Here we are.”
His lips were just a breath away from hers, but the carriage jolted them out of their moment, putting a stop to whatever spell had descended upon the carriage.
“I’ll just be reading then,” Katherine said.
“…must catch up on my sleep, you understand,” he answered at the same time and quickly closed his eyes.
Catch up on his sleep? More like experience firsthand torture. Confound it! Benedict had again almost kissed the girl!
It wasn’t necessarily the kiss that upset him.
No, it was the way his body responded to her laugh, her every word, as if she wasn’t just conversing with him but making love to him.
Which was sheer madness! Speaking was not making love.
And yet, with Katherine it was.
Every word formed with her delicate lips, every sigh that escaped without her notice, every bat of her lashes.
Mad. He was going absolutely mad.
But kissing her? It would make things exponentially worse, for he wouldn’t stop at one kiss. He would not insult his own intelligence by justifying such an action.
With Katherine, a kiss had never been a kiss, but sheer ecstasy like he had never known. Her smell, her taste, everything about her unique and spiced.
Better than whiskey. Blast it, better than sex.
Madness. When a man compared kissing to sex and kissing won out, he needed to embark on a weeklong stint of debauchery.
Yet, all he could think about was her kiss, her lips, and the simple idea that in a few short weeks she would say yes, and he could spend his days and his nights finding out what was so intriguing about the saucy minx sitting in that carriage.
Yet, a part, a small part, warned him that once he began that discovery, he would never want to stop.
Chapter Twelve
A Snowball For a Duke
Katherine was jolted awake by Benedict’s hand.
“Well? Are you going to wake up, or do I need to carry you?”
Ah, just what she needed — a reminder of why he was called the Devil Duke, why he was disagreeable, and why she was upset she wasn’t with his cousin. Katherine had needed that reminder, for her heart had felt lost on the journey, and she wasn’t sure what was happening to her. Something larger than friendship was blossoming between them.
And she wasn’t sure her heart could take the devastation of what a man like Benedict would bring. Surely she could marry him and keep herself indifferent if he was disagreeable. But what if she began to like him, to befriend him, to love him?
He would destroy her.
It would start slow. Most likely Benedict would show her firsthand exactly why women whispered about his sexual encounters. But after a few weeks or even a few months, he would get bored. His eyes would wander in the general direction of the courtesans, and he would be lost forever.
His laugh, gone.
His smile, nonexistent.
And she would be heartbroken.
Which was why, when he woke her up with a smile on his face, she nudged him out of the way and stepped out of the carriage on her own.
What she didn’t know was that the ground was far closer than she realized, and she nearly lost her footing.
Thankfully, Benedict was close behind her and caught her arm, but not before it hit him square in the face with a resounding thud.
The footmen gasped.
But Katherine laughed.
Benedict cursed. “And there she is. I was wondering when your clumsy self was to make another appearance.”
She curtsied, because really there was nothing else to do in such circumstances, and wonder of all wonders the Devil Duke laughed heartily, causing the footmen to gasp for an entirely different reason.
Naturally his laugh was followed by an excessive amount of throat clearing and chest thumping. After all, the devil was to never laugh in public. Benedict had always tried to keep his manners indifferent when in the presence of the ton, far be it from them to discover he actually had a heart. The mamas would be relentless in their pursuit if they thought him anything but disagreeable.
Katherine wasn’t sure what possessed her to indulge the man in a bit of playfulness. Maybe it was the way he cloaked his merriment with a devil-may-care attitude, or the line of his shoulders when he brought them back and tried to escort her into the large house.
Perhaps, she thought as she looped her arms within his, childhood never truly leaves you. Maybe your physical body grows into what society deems acceptable, but those dreams, the itches you get to do something adventurous and dangerous never die. If anything, they are more intense in their drive, for the minute you decide to give in to the immaturity that plagued you when you were small, you are able to be free, to laugh, and to fly.
“Benedict,” she whispered out of earshot of the footman. No doubt they would expire on the spot if they heard her addressing him as such.
“Hmm?” He turned his large body toward hers. Eyebrows drawn in as if he was contemplating the meaning of life.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Whatever for?”
With a quick tug, she had him on his back against the snowy powder of the ground.
“What the devil!” he shouted.
And then Katherine grabbed a touch of snow in her hand and drizzled it on his face as if it were sand.
He became very serious then.
Almost too serious.
Making her think she had finally gone too far.
And then with a roar, he jumped to his feet firmly packing a snowball in his hand as his eyes turned to steel. “Run.”
So she did.
As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran around the outside of the estate laughing the whole way. Snowballs flew past her head. Giggling, she found it nearly impossible to keep running as she heard him yelling threats from behind.
/> And then his large arms came around her, and he whispered hoarsely in her ear, “Now, it’s my turn to be sorry.”
“For wh—?”
Benedict pushed her to the ground and pounced near her in the snow, he pinned her to the cold wet earth and leaned in. Panting, he lifted the snowball in his hand and laughed. “What will you give me for a truce, my lady?”
Giggling, she pushed the escaped hair away from her face and gazed into his eyes. It felt quite like she was falling, only she was nowhere near a cliff or in danger. Yet her heart screamed jump, jump, jump. “Will a kiss be acceptable?”
“No.” He threw the snowball down to the ground.
Her heart thudded, slow and heavy, in her chest and finally came to a near stop.
Benedict’s hands threaded through her hair pulling her head closer to his until their breaths were mingled. “Just one kiss is never acceptable.”
At the first touch of his lips, her world spun. His kiss was playful, as his tongue wrestled with hers and then slid out of her mouth. He tilted his head at a different angle, his cold nose lighting her skin like a fire, and then warmth met her again, as he tugged her head tighter and pressed his lips harder until it was difficult to breathe.
“One kiss is never acceptable,” he repeated, out of breath, and held out his hand. Unashamed, and still flushed from their little game, she took his arm and walked with him back to the front of the house.
“I fear we’ve caused a bigger scandal than when the ton saw my knees,” she said, changing the subject — anything to rid herself of the odd tingling sensation Benedict’s mouth had left on her person.
Benedict pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “I’m a duke. Believe me, the footmen will be silent, and as for everyone else, it appears we are the first to arrive.”
“But what about Lord Marks? Surely he’ll see the state of our dress?” She looked into his eyes and tried to calm her rapid gasps of excitement. Handsome to the point of stopping hearts, he merely shrugged. “That part, I already have figured out.”
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