A Renwick House Christmas Boxed Set

by Rachel Van Dyken

  He reached out and touched her arm. “You are quite pale.” Perhaps she would take the hint and tell him why she looked so troubled. If anything it would take his mind off of shooting his cousin in the arm for touching Katherine.

  “Am I?” She slumped. Never had he seen Lady Anastasia slump as if totally defeated. “Perhaps if your grace is recovered enough, might you consider taking a turn with me around the pond? I believe the cold is settling into my bones.”

  A conundrum. If he skated, Katherine would know he wasn’t injured, but anything was better than sitting, so he hobbled along with Lady Anastasia and pasted a smile on his face, though he could have sworn it felt menacing.

  What the devil did Baldwyn find so amusing about Katherine? And why was she leaning in toward him like that?

  He took Lady Anastasia’s outstretched hand into his, and limped while trying to appear a graceful skater, around the outer perimeter of the pond.

  “Careful,” Lady Anastasia said to his left. “Or you’ll fall on your injury.” Her smirk told him she didn’t believe for one second he was injured.

  “What gave me away?”

  “You were limping on the other foot not five minutes ago.”

  Benedict cursed. “Perhaps I have a small desire to be nurtured. Is that so wrong?”

  “So even the Devil desires good deeds? Interesting.”

  Well, when she put it that way…

  “How are things progressing with my cousin?” Benedict asked politely.

  A blush crept up Lady Anastasia’s cheeks as she jerked her attention away from staring at Baldwyn. “I’m afraid, they aren’t.”

  “Aren’t?”

  “Progressing. In fact things seem exactly the same as before, well, I guess that isn’t entirely true after last night’s…” She clamped her mouth shut.

  Benedict laughed heartily. “Your secret’s safe with me, though I wonder why the blasted man needed to be so inebriated to do something he’s been craving to do for days.”

  “I doubt that.” Lady Anastasia looked down and stopped skating.

  Benedict wanted to strangle his cousin. How dare he make this woman feel unwanted? It was safe to say that if it was him the girl would already be ruined.

  Katherine was a shining example of the way Benedict handled women. But this was different, so he reached over and touched her face, careful to slow his movements enough to gain attention.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” Lady Anastasia sputtered.

  “Giving you progression, my lady, in the basest way I can.”

  “How?”

  “Jealousy.” And with that Benedict leaned down to whisper nonsense into her ear about laughing and managing a tiny blush.

  The timing was perfect. Baldwyn’s head snapped to attention, and Katherine’s eyes narrowed. Benedict shook his head slightly and Katherine nodded. How was it that by that simple action, he knew Katherine trusted him? In that very moment?

  He was about to skate to her, to steal her away from his Scottish cousin, when shouting commenced from the bench.

  “I want to skate, and I’m going to skate!” Agatha wailed.

  Merciful heavens above, was it too much to ask for God to have at least given her a quieter voice? Or perhaps the ability to practice patience?

  “Crazy old woman,” he muttered as he deposited Lady Anastasia on the bench and made his way toward his aunt, praying a cloak of invisibility would suddenly find a way to shield him from her pensive glare.

  She yelled again, “Gentlemen!”

  Benedict swallowed. She was referring to him and Baldwyn, like little boys being punished, they slowly skated to her side, each taking an arm.

  “I wish to skate,” she announced.

  Benedict rolled his eyes at Baldwyn who looked ready to cut himself a tiny ice hole and jump into it. “Yes, I believe the entire pond has been made aware of your desire to skate, Aunt.”

  “Hmph.” Her usual response.

  “Don’t argue with me, Benedict. Take my arm,” she demanded. “Baldwyn! Look alive there, boy! I’m not growing any younger.”

  Clearly, thought Benedict.

  “Take my arm and let’s be off!” She waved wildly in the air as if they were planning on flying rather than skating, not that he would say it aloud lest she get ideas that they should figure out a way to catapult her into the icy air.

  “If you’ll just hang on to us, I’m sure we can take a turn about the pond, nice and slow now.”

  Baldwyn looked heavenward then back to Benedict as if to say, “Do you think we have a chance of leaving her in the middle and feigning memory loss?

  “Faster,” Agatha demanded.

  “Aunt.” Benedict cleared his throat. “If we go any faster, I believe you’ll lose your breath and have one of those very real coughing fits.”

  Very real his a—

  “I said I would desire for you to take me faster, now do as I say.”

  Or reap the consequences, Benedict added mentally.

  “As you wish.” He increased his speed, as did Baldwyn and soon the dragon was smiling.

  “This is my favorite part.”

  “Pardon?” Benedict nearly tripped. Was she just being polite?

  “The wind, I miss the wind on my face. Makes an old woman feel alive.” Her pale eyes looked at Benedict and a smile curved her lips. For such an ancient thing, she was quite beautiful still. His heart clenched as she turned her face upward and sighed.

  Inwardly scolding himself for being so rude, Benedict tightened his grip on her arm. If she trusted them enough to close her eyes, if she was so completely within their clutches, he was going to do a blasted good job of keeping her standing straight, even if it killed him.

  After a few minutes, Agatha sighed. “Stop! I’m cold, take me back to the house at once!” Agatha paused, and released their arms. “Baldwyn, Lady Anastasia looks quite frozen over on the bench. Please see to her needs.”

  Benedict opened his mouth to speak, but Agatha interrupted, “And Benedict, do be sure that Lady Katherine is brought back to the house soon. She so desired to read this afternoon, and I would hate to see her too frozen to do so.”

  With that, Agatha, frail little Agatha skated off, at top speed, alone.

  The little witch.

  She knew exactly how to skate.

  Why the devil did she…?

  Separation. Benedict tossed his head back and laughed, torn between the desire to applaud her genius or strangle her for misinterpreting everything going on that afternoon, for she should know him well enough to know. His attraction was to Katherine, not Lady Anastasia.

  He skated to Katherine and held out his hand. “Oh, no you don’t,” she teased. “Last time we skated, we both fell, and you were peeking beneath my skirts.”

  “It isn’t peeking if the skirt flies up.”

  “Says who?” Her eyes widened with indignation.

  “I do.”

  “And let me guess, you’re a duke, so your opinion has to count for something?”

  “Look how well we are communicating, love.” Benedict pulled her into a tight embrace, not caring that everyone around them was most likely staring. “So if I kiss you right now, it will not matter.”

  “B-because you’re a duke.”

  “Precisely.”

  Katherine leaned in, her eyes half-closed.

  “But,” Benedict said when their foreheads touched, “I would hate to subject you to the whisperings and gossip, so another time, then.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle before slipping her arm within his.

  She tripped, nearly losing her footing.

  “My, my, and to think I didn’t even kiss your lips. I wonder if you would be able to walk in a straight line.”

  “Obviously I did before.”

  “But my kiss is different now,” Benedict argued.

  Katherine let out a loud sigh. “You’re baiting me again. You want me to say, ‘but how, Benedict? How is it different?’ Then you�
�ll lean in and wax poetic about how you’d love to show me Then I’d be breathless, you’d still be the Devil, and I’d kick you in the shin. Sound about right?”

  He shuddered. “Sometimes you frighten me.”

  “Perfect, so let us just skip ahead to the part after where you tell me all about why you felt the need to make Paisley jealous.”

  “Straight to the point. I like it.” Benedict smirked. “At this rate, that of a snail or that of a disabled tortoise, Paisley will be happily engaged in holding her hand by the end of the year.”

  “I take it by your tone they need to be doing more than holding hands.”

  “Considering they will be married, yes that is the idea, nay the point, don’t you think? One cannot beget an heir by endosmosis.”

  “Endosmosis?”

  “The practice of—”

  “I know what it means, I’m just curious as to why you used that particular analogy.”

  “We are on ice you know.” Benedict quirked. “The examples are perfect. Besides, I have a plan.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Benedict grinned devilishly. His plan was more self-serving than he let Katherine believe. Could he help that he wanted her all to himself? So tonight, after dinner, he would make an absolute spectacle of himself, gaining her attention for the remainder of the evening. Hopefully after several bottles of port, his cousin would loosen up enough to attempt to converse with his fiancée. One could only hope that he wouldn’t have to get the man foxed in order to do so.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Christmas Carriage

  Katherine left Benedict and went to her room to take a nap before dinner. However, the minute she closed her eyes, all she could see was his face. Foolish of her really, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything else.

  Besides, he hadn’t exactly told her his brilliant plan for the evening meal. She actually doubted he knew what he was going to do. His plan, it seemed, was to somehow separate the couples so Paisley was stuck with Lady Anastasia with no means to escape.

  Sounded a lot like desperation, but if that was the only way to get them to pay attention to one another, then so be it. She still wasn’t sure why she was helping, other than Benedict had asked it of her, and she soon found out that when the man smiled, when he leaned in and touched her arm just so, well she would most likely give him anything.

  Which did not bode well for any future dark corners or hallways.

  She did have some morals, though she felt them crumble every time she tasted his lips.

  She shuddered and closed her eyes. Sleep, she just needed sleep.

  Dinner started pleasantly. Benedict and Paisley sat across from one another at the head of the table, near Lord Marks, and Katherine and Lady Anastasia were across from each man respectively.

  After the first two courses, Katherine began to wonder if Benedict had lost his nerve.

  And then, he leaned in toward Lady Anastasia and mumbled something that made her blush so brightly Katherine was ready to throw wine in the woman’s face. Benedict pulled back, looking more pleased than he ought, then nodded to Katherine.

  Clearing her throat, she leaned over and whispered nonsense about the weather into Paisley’s ear, but at the last moment when his eyes turned to gaze into hers, she very gently placed a note in his hand.

  He looked down, then up. She shook her head and reached for her wine.

  The bait was set, now it was up to her to see if both parties would take it.

  Once dinner was finished, Katherine kept a close eye on Paisley. He retired with the rest of the gentlemen, but as planned, within minutes he was walking down the hallway toward the far end of the study.

  Perfect.

  Katherine went in search of Benedict who was at that very moment walking down the same corridor with Lady Anastasia.

  “You see, I cannot find the button, and it means the world to me!” Benedict pleaded with her. Though Katherine thought he was laying it on a little thick.

  Most likely Lady Anastasia thought the only way to escape his presence was to actually go into the study and look for the blasted button.

  “I’ll just be here waiting, shouldn’t follow you in, isn’t proper and all that.” Benedict coughed.

  Katherine rolled her eyes from her hiding spot in the hall.

  Once the door clicked shut, Katherine hurried to his side. “Tell me you have the key.”

  “Oh, I have the key. Did you know…” Benedict turned the lock. “…that Lord Marks is quite the fellow? He offered to pay me to get those two together in such circumstances. Jolly fellow, should probably send him a Christmas ham.”

  Katherine stifled a laugh when she heard Paisley’s voice begin to rise.

  “How much port did he drink?” Katherine asked.

  “Enough to hold her hand, possibly enough to be tempted to kiss her.”

  “What’s wrong with you!” Katherine pinched him in the arm. “You had one job, well two. Get him foxed and find the key.”

  “Listen,” Benedict pushed her against the wall playfully, his hands resting on her hips. “I did the best I could. What were you thinking wearing a dress like this?” He seemed mesmerized as his hands slowly caressed the satin.

  “What?” Utterly confused and a bit tipsy from the many glasses of wine she drank at dinner, Katherine could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. ”What the hell does my dress have to do with anything?”

  She covered her mouth with her hands. Where had that come from?

  “Heavens, I love your dirty mouth.” He winked, his hands still playing with the fabric, twisting the ribbon around her middle with his fingers. “Your dress, my lady, is distracting. You’re lucky I was able to concentrate on the mission, let alone not drink myself into oblivion without touching you.”

  “Oh.” She wished in that moment that she would have thought of a better response, but she was yet again dumbstruck by his dark sensual looks, his hooded eyes, and full lips.

  “Shall we?” His voice was husky as he offered his arm.

  Telling herself it was silly to shake or be nervous around someone she was marrying so soon, Katherine nodded and gave him her arm.

  Thinking he would lead her back to the party, she began to get somewhat alarmed when he escorted her outside.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he mumbled in her hair before bestowing a kiss on her temple.

  Far be it for her to argue a surprise.

  Such a stark contrast between the glowing white snow and the dark sky. The moon hung in the sky like a picture. Benedict led her around to the front of the house, where a carriage was waiting.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your Christmas surprise,” he answered sweeping her into his arms and placing her in the seat. Fur blankets were stacked to the right, a bottle of wine and glasses in a basket to the left.

  Grinning from ear to ear like a small child, Katherine managed not to throw her arms around his neck and laugh.

  He remembered.

  She had no idea he had listened that night when she was but seven years of age.

  “I want my own Christmas carriage!” she wailed and wailed, until her father announced he was going to sell all the carriages if she kept complaining.

  “Silly goose.” Benedict sat next to her. At fourteen, he seemed so much older, darker, and of course wiser.

  “I’m not silly.” Katherine crossed her arms and lifted her chin into the air, trying to prove to him that she was absolutely an adult who could make her own decisions, and at that point in her short life, she wanted her own Christmas carriage. “It just isn’t fair.” She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

  Benedict laughed then, a boy laugh that was more amused than mocking. “Then we shall just have to get you one, but not now, for your father looks ready to shoot anything that speaks.”

  Katherine giggled. “When, Ben? When can I have my own Christmas carriage?”

  H
e pulled her to his side; she tucked her feet underneath her and sighed as the weight of his arm held her in a warm embrace. “How about I tell you a story, and in that story you’ll see. Hmm?”

  “Oh, yes!” She clapped her hands with glee.

  “One day when you are all grown up and going to lovely parties with sparkling ball gowns and handsome men…”

  “Like you?” she asked, for she thought him quite handsome.

  “Yes, like me.” He blushed. “One of these days, you will catch the eye of one of those men, and he will proclaim his undying love to you. He’ll offer to buy you any dress in the world if only you will love him. He’ll offer to sail to the moon.”

  “That’s silly!” Katherine covered her laughter with her hand. “One cannot sail to the moon!”

  “Exactly my point, Kate, one cannot sail there, but his love will be so deep, that in his mind, he has already decided that if it is within your desires, he will find a way to do it.”

  Katherine sighed then, for she did not know that type of love existed.

  Benedict coughed and cleared his throat. “So, when that moment happens, when you see the stars shine in his eyes, when you see his eyes reflect the same feelings you have inside here,” he tapped his own chest, “then you shall ask him for your Christmas carriage. Because you waited, it will be even more special. You will also be sharing it with the person who cares the most for you in the world.”

  Katherine sighed again. “I like that story. Is it true, Ben? Oh, tell me it is true!”

  “I promise.” He ruffled her hair and kissed her on the cheek and she hopped up to bed, with dreams of Christmas carriages dancing in her head.

  Benedict’s weight made the carriage tip, just slightly. “Do you like it?”

  Katherine wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Instead she just stared at him, marveling at the expression on his face, a mixture of apprehension and… love.

  “Your eyes,” she whispered, suddenly breathless.

  “My eyes?”

  “They reflect the stars.” Katherine moved to sit near him, placing the blanket over both of their bodies. Benedict tapped the roof and they were off in their Christmas carriage for a ride through the snow.