Forbidden

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Lost in thought, she merely nodded. Heavens, she hadn't remembered him being so boring or dry. Thankfully she wasn't going to have to be leg-shackled to the man for the rest of her life. Suddenly, she felt quite sorry for the poor miserable woman who would have to share his bed every night. Granted, he was a beautiful male specimen to gaze upon, but looks could only take one so far if he had no sense of humor to speak of and didn't know how to smile if his life depended on it.

  As the song ended, her foot caught and twisted in the bottom of her skirt, sending her reeling into the duke's arms, but she was in so much pain and so mortified, she could only whimper as he helped her off the dance floor and out into the cool night air of the balcony.

  "Where does it hurt?" he asked gently, kneeling down at her foot.

  Unfortunately she lost her balance and kicked her injured foot into the air trying to regain it, landing a very hard blow to the duke's head.

  He let out a curse and fell backward onto the ground with a thud.

  "Oh my! Heavens, are you all right?" Momentarily forgetting about her injury, Katherine tried to walk toward the duke on her bad ankle but lost her footing, landing on top of him with her skirts up past her knees. The only reason she knew this was because cold air bit at her calves.

  "Get off!" Banbury bellowed.

  "I'm trying!" she argued, pushing away from him, but it was nearly impossible to skitter away when his arms were flailing about.

  And then all pandemonium broke loose. A gasp was heard from the doorway followed by a cry, and then applause.

  The Dowager Duchess of Durbin was sniffing and holding a handkerchief to her eye as if she was shedding tears over their obviously compromising situation. And the three men she had seen earlier drinking with Banbury were now grinning ear to ear, all of them clapping their hands as if they had just witnessed a comedy of errors.

  "This isn't what it looks like!" she wailed, peeling herself from the duke's body and accidently kneeing him in the shin as she made her way back to her feet.

  The duke didn't speak, nor did he yell. Instead, he closed his eyes and began mumbling things under his breath.

  "Is he praying?" the dowager asked.

  A blond-headed fellow piped up. "Most likely to be struck by lightning."

  "Sounds familiar," a man she now recognized as Lord Rawlings with dark features and crystal blue eyes said, looking quite amused. She hadn't seen him in years, but he still held that rakish air.

  She hadn't a clue as to the identity of the other men, mainly because she had been in the country for so long. Assuming they were friends, she felt even more embarrassed that they had all just witnessed such a catastrophic event.

  "So," a tall gentleman who hadn't spoken yet said, "When is the wedding to take place?"

  Rawlings laughed. "I think he's still praying God will strike him where he lies. Doesn't work that way, fellow. Believe me, I've tried. Now, Renwick, Tempest, let us leave the Devil to his evil doings and have a drink on his behalf. It seems he'll need it."

  Katherine wasn't so sheltered that she didn't now understand who the men where. Lord Renwick? The Duke of Tempest? And Lord Rawlings? Two of the most notorious rakes of the ton and the Angel Duke himself.

  Well, it seemed there was no escaping matrimony. But by George, she was going to try.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Down for the Count

  Perhaps he could merely pretend to have had an apoplexy. How long, he wondered, could a person hold his breath before he did permanent damage to his body? Perhaps if he passed out, he could make up a story about how the woman, who he would now refer to as Eve, tricked him, tripped him, and clobbered him over the head.

  He kept his eyes closed just in case his ridiculous plan would work.

  It didn't.

  Another throat cleared. He stopped his prayers and opened one eye, then two. His aunt's icy blue stare seemed to penetrate his body with such irritation that his head began to hurt again, or was the throbbing merely a happy coincidence with getting hit by Lady Katherine? Saints alive, she was going to be the death of him.

  "Look what you've done." Aunt Agatha shook her head and sniffled. Well, at least she was over her imaginary head cold; now it seemed she had nothing but tears and outrage.

  "I did nothing wrong, I merely fell after being struck by a blunt object. You cannot fault me in the matter!"

  "You compromised that woman! What the devil is wrong with you? Have I not raised you to at least woo a woman before you lift her skirts? Heavens, we are in public!"

  "I was accosted!" he yelled.

  "You were seducing her!"

  "I was unconscious!" He blinked his eyes and cursed. Pain was now throbbing at his temples. Truly, if God were to call him home, he wouldn't fault Him one bit. He'd merely lift his arms heavenward and thank the Lord for taking him. Then again his thanks would be twofold, for he would be grateful to even be near the pearly gates, let alone given free entry.

  Aunt Agatha sighed. "Either way, it was bad form, Benedict. Truly bad form. I shall announce your impending marriage at once. Now, run along and have yourself some brandy. You look awful. Hmph."

  With swift movements, she left him on the cold ground, alone and upset. One thing was for certain, he wasn't going to marry the girl. He would rather jump into the Thames in the dead of winter! Although, on second thought, jumping into the Thames would mean he would die of a head injury, considering it was frozen over. Perhaps he could cut out a little hole and jump into it. Sadly, the smile on his face was entirely brought on by his suicide plan, an unfortunate circumstance that. Was marriage truly that ghastly to him?

  The woman was a plague, a disease he could not rid himself of! It mattered not that she was beautiful, or that she had grown into those luscious lips and curves. She was still the devil's own to deal with. And he would not align himself with such a lady for the rest of his life. Imagine! Lady Katherine? A Duchess? Married to the Devil Duke himself?

  He pushed away from the ground and examined his body for dirt and smudges. Satisfied, he cracked his neck and walked back into the ballroom. A resounding hush fell upon the people dancing and then the whispering commenced. It was the first time in his existence that people had dared talk about him. Most were too afraid to even utter his name, not that he was a rake of any kind. No, he was merely frightening for most women to talk to. He was dark and brooding and according to the debutantes, fiercely handsome. Rumor was that he would most likely marry a woman and kill her in the bedroom with all of the force of his evil presence.

  He let out a long sigh and walked in the general direction of Lord Rawlings, but was intercepted by Lady Katherine herself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Innocent as the Driven Snow

  "How dare you!" Katherine pointed a shaking finger at the duke, biting back a curse. "I cannot marry you!"

  "Finally, something we agree upon," he countered then looked around them. Muttering a curse, he grabbed ahold of her arm and tugged her toward the back corner of the room where they were given more privacy. "Did you think to trick me into marrying you? Was that it?"

  Katherine burst out laughing. Banbury did not seem pleased, his eyebrows furrowed. Looking quite offended, he crossed his arms and scowled. "I assure you, I am quite the catch."

  "I'll just have to take your word for it, now won't I? Regardless, you've ruined everything and now your cousin won't even give me—"

  "My cousin?" he interrupted. "What about my cousin? Don't tell me you hold a secret tender for the Scottish duke."

  Heat flooded Katherine's cheeks.

  "Oh, so he is the object of your affection. I would say he was lucky, but it's painfully obvious that luck is never on your side, nor would he be lucky to be chained to you the rest of his days. Imagine the scars he would receive, the bloody noses, the black eyes. Gads, it would look like he boxed at Jackson's every day!"

  "That is quite enough!" Her ivory colored glove flashed in the candlelight as she pointed her finger at hi
s and poked him in the chest with her hand. "He is sweet, and kind, and doesn't scowl. At least he knows how to smile!"

  "I bloody well know how to smile." Banbury winced.

  "Were you trying just now?" she asked sweetly.

  His answer was to curse and run a gloved hand through his dark locks. "We cannot allow this to happen. You must cry off."

  "Me?" Katherine tightened her hands into fists, but Banbury quickly pulled her aside, shielding her from whomever had just passed by. Quickly, he pushed her away, as if she were diseased.

  "I cannot simply cry off," she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. "I would be ruined! Who would want me?"

  Banbury rolled his eyes. "It isn't as if you're the belle of the ball currently, is it? What does it matter if you simply cry off? Tell everyone I scared you, that I barked or growled, or simply glared and you fell to your knees in horrified hysterics."

  "Yes, because you're simply terrifying when you're unconscious."

  "Apparently it's the only way you can get me on my back, now isn't it?" His hot breath fanned her neck as he stepped closer. Instinctively she moved in, undeterred. "Oh believe me, Banbury. If I wanted you on your back I could get you on your back without any sort of violence."

  What the devil was she saying? Was she carrying on a flirtation with the Devil Duke? And to say such things aloud! But he was so provoking!

  His eyes took on a lazy look as they appeared to darken and almost close completely. And then, he smiled. All white teeth and dimples on either side of his face. Katherine felt her face heat even more as her eyes widened to take in the male beauty in front of her.

  "Are you quite sure?"

  "Positive." Clenching her teeth, she nearly touched his lips when she breathed out the word. Never would she back down from such a ridiculous man.

  His amusement faded as he grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against his body. "Then I would have to say I agree." His lips curved into a devilish smile as they tentatively touched hers. It was a question of a kiss, almost as if he was shocked he was participating. And then as their breaths mingled, he groaned and his lips pushed against hers, molded across her mouth. Need shot through her.

  This was how girls were ruined.

  This was what her instructors had warned her about.

  Dark corners, virile smelling men, and the wet heat of a scorching kiss.

  Not knowing what else to do, she held on to the lapels of his coat, but that forced her to lean completely into him. Banbury's arms came around her, his hands slowly moved down her back. With a gasp she prepared to scold him, but the hot invasion of his tongue made her lose all thought. It was wicked and delicious. He groaned and she, in purely unladylike behavior, pushed him further into the alcove against the wall.

  "I, ahem, do hope I'm not interrupting anything," a clearly masculine voice said from behind them. With a shriek, Katherine pulled away. Banbury was smiling from ear to ear, his breathing ragged as his dilated eyes looked up. Cursing, he pushed Katherine behind him.

  "When did you arrive?"

  Katherine lifted her eyes, her stomach dropped at the same time. In horror, she looked into the eyes of the same man she had minutes ago told Banbury she had set her cap for. With a sob, she ran off, away from Devil himself and from the man she hoped to marry.

  "Classic." Baldwyn Sinclair, Duke of Paisley, shook his head at Benedict and burst out laughing. "Tell me, was your plan simply to assault her in order to win her favor or had you not fully thought through your attack?"

  Benedict cursed. "I don't know what came over me, and she's just so blasted irritating. She struck me and then provoked me."

  "Well then." Baldwyn folded his arms across his chest. "By all means make her cry. It seems you earned a bit of revenge."

  Benedict groaned aloud. "What the devil are you doing here, Baldwyn? Don't tell me—"

  "Agatha." They said in unison. Both as if her name was an expletive on their lips.

  "She got to you, too, I imagine?" Benedict asked, though it was difficult to stay on topic after the feel of Katherine's lips on his own. He hadn't meant to hurt the girl's feelings, but she was so blasted… provoking. He'd said it aloud and continued to think it in his head.

  Baldwyn snapped his fingers. "Woolgathering or planning to attack another virgin?"

  "My apologies. You were saying?" Benedict shook his head and began walking in the direction of the whiskey with Paisley in tow.

  Baldwyn had been raised alongside Benedict when they were children. Agatha was Baldwyn's grandmother and Benedict's aunt, making them cousins and, unfortunately, related to the same horrid woman that continued to meddle in the lives of the men in her family.

  Benedict could think of only one reason why she would summon Baldwyn all this way.

  "She's going to ruin the both of us." Benedict reached the whiskey and cursed. "Don't tell me she's turned her matchmaking sights to you cousin…" He waited, in vain, for Baldwyn to deny the accusations all together.

  "I shall marry Lady Anastasia."

  Benedict burst out laughing, sloshing his drink within the glass and nearly spilling it onto the Persian rug. "Truthfully? You are to marry her? Tell me, do you still have mud stains on your person? One would think they were permanent. Delightful creature that one. I have half a mind to cage her up with Katherine, at least they could torture one another instead of—" As the words came flowing out of his mouth Benedict realized in one horror-stricken moment, just what his aunt had done.

  "She's betrothed us to…"

  Baldwyn swallowed all of his brandy in one gulp. "Our enemies? Childhood nemeses? The only woman in London I could never imagine myself sharing a bed with? Yes, perhaps Agatha delights in having no heirs to speak of, for if I have to share a bed with that — that hoyden, then I'm quitting."

  Benedict scowled. "One cannot simply quit marriage."

  "Did I say marriage? I meant quitting the continent."

  "And your tenants will simply do without you for the remainder of their lives?"

  Baldwyn poured another brandy. At this rate he was going to be foxed before he even had a dance, which surely would not do. "Must you be so logical when I'm this upset? At least try to see my plight. The girl probably still has pigtails. Do you remember the way her bony little hands used to pull at my coattails? She wasn't a bonny lass, and you know it. I think I may be sick."

  "Yes, well…" Benedict took the empty glass from his cousin's hand. "Whiskey on an empty stomach will do that to you. Now, why don't you run along and find something to soak up all that alcohol while I have a nice friendly little chat with Agatha about your situation. There isn't much to be done about mine considering we were found…"

  "Compromised?"

  Benedict growled low in his throat. "As I said before, to everyone who would listen that is, I was unconscious, on the cold hard ground, with nothing save a lump on the back of my head for my troubles. I did not seduce her!"

  "Perhaps you've just gotten better at it."

  Benedict lifted a brow.

  "Just a thought. Perhaps your sexual prowess is that of such brilliance that you are able to seduce women in your sleep."

  "What a cross to bear," Benedict said dryly not finding his cousin amusing in the least.

  "Yes well, I was trying to look at the positive in a very dreary situation. After all, the woman you have to marry nearly killed you thrice! Not counting tonight of course."

  "Ah, yes. Thank you for the reminder. I shall be sure to shout 'til death do us part quite proudly, knowing it will be quite soon in seeking me out."

  "Speaking of the devil," Baldwyn mumbled and sauntered off in the other direction leaving Benedict alone in the room. He looked up and cursed fluently before downing the rest of his drink.

  "Agatha."

  "Benedict, I have just spoken with Katherine's parents and they have denied your suit."

  Odd, how such information could make one feel elated yet offended all at once. "Whatever do you mean?"
>
  Agatha lifted an eyebrow and took a seat on the nearest chair. "They find the idea of you marrying their only daughter quite offensive. In fact, they've instructed me to find her a suitable replacement considering you've already ruined her."

  Appalled, Benedict could only stare slack-jawed. "But that's ridiculous! I ruined her, and I should be the one to pay for it! Granted, I wasn't necessarily awake for the entire act, but I'm pretty sure when a woman has her skirts up past her knees it's considered improper! What kind of parents are they? To subject their only daughter to such ridicule. And all because they find me offensive? Me? I'm a blasted duke!" He sliced the air with one hand as his temper broiled and spilled over into an outright tantrum "What in blazes is so awful about marrying me?"

  Other than the obvious.

  His reputation for ruining debutantes.

  His favor for strong drink and gambling.

  And the rumor that he often walked around his manor naked in order to offend his valet, which might or might not have been true.

  "That, my dear boy, was my exact question." Agatha inspected her gloves and shrugged as if she didn't know all the reasons a family would be less than thrilled to align themselves with him.

  Did that mean the witch was actually siding with her nephew? Impossible!

  "And?" Benedict prompted.

  "It isn't so much the parents whom object as it is the girl in question. She claims you are the most boring creature to walk the face of the earth. She also finds your inability to smile quite taxing."

  Benedict's blood boiled. "For the last time, I know how to smile!"

  "Don't shout, my dear, I'm sitting right here." Agatha shuddered. "Either way, I've taken care of it for you."

  Devil's teeth. Those were words one never wanted to hear from one's insane aunt. The same aunt who thought it stylish to fasten feathers to her lap dog.

  Agatha smiled. "I've merely suggested you pay court to their daughter until the Kringle Ball in two weeks' time. If, by then, you've failed in all aspects of intelligent conversation and of course, managed not one smile, which I do think will be a challenge, then the betrothal is off."