Forbidden

by Rachel Van Dyken

  More like inside his chest, not truthfully an itch, more like a feeling, cursed word that that was.

  And if he was being honest with himself, it felt quite a lot like the day his nanny chose to give Paisley a new toy and scolded Benedict for being naughty.

  Then again, this feeling was much worse. It was hard to breathe, as if each time he opened his mouth he was only able to suck in so much air before his lungs collapsed altogether.

  His footman waited patiently.

  "Whites," he finally croaked, thankful he was able to at least get that much out.

  When had that chit gained the upper hand?

  His mind was fuzzy as to how a person could outsmart him, and a woman no less. Had she any idea who he was? What he could do to her if he so chose?

  Perhaps he felt positively ill because he knew exactly what Agatha was up to. Never would he consider her mad again, for she had played her cards well.

  She had set up a trap, and he had fallen quite perfectly for the bait. Whatever she was up to, he would find out.

  The rub, it seemed, was that he truthfully could do nothing to salvage Katherine's reputation. It was good and ruined, which really was a pity. Reputations should be ruined for good reason, not stolen kisses or happy accidents, or in his case, assault.

  No, it seemed only fair that she be well and truly ruined, the way a woman with lush curves and pouty lips should be.

  In bed.

  He laughed.

  Most likely his footman now thought him mad, but he didn't care.

  His conscience nagged at him, stupid thing that it was. He had tried to dispel it years ago to no avail.

  How was he to ruin a girl already ruined, who despised him and to whom he was also engaged?

  Well, he was always one for puzzles.

  Now all he needed was some very strong tea and a few hours to come up with a plan. Yes, she would rue the day she told the Devil Duke she had no feelings for him. She would rue the day she told him "no".

  That night, as Katherine sat opposite her parents in the carriage, she could not shake the feeling of dread in her belly.

  Benedict would be attending this night's opera.

  She was still ruined.

  The ton would be waiting for a scandal, and worst of all, Paisley would be given a front row seat.

  "Here we are." Her mother beamed when their carriage pulled up to King's Theatre.

  Katherine bit her lip, trying to keep the fluttering of her stomach at bay, and slowly made her way into the opera house.

  It was too loud for her to be noticed, with too many people fluttering about.

  "…and he has been ever so gracious to let us use his box!" Her mother clapped her hands together.

  "Who?" Katherine loudly asked, for she could barely hear herself think.

  "Why, the duke, of course."

  "Which one?"

  Her mother paused. "Have you so quickly forgotten the name of your fiancé?"

  Oh, him. "No, apologies. It seems I've become quite… flushed."

  Her mother scowled. "I knew I should not have left you alone this morning with that dreadful man. His reputation is black as sin, but surely you know there is no other choice?"

  Katherine nodded.

  "Did he… make advances toward you?"

  Eyes wide, she could only shake her head no and pray her blush wasn't as bright as it felt. It would do no good for her mother to know the specifics. Besides, it wasn't as if she wanted her mother to die of an apoplexy.

  No, she'd leave the dying to Benedict.

  But then again…

  Why wouldn't her heart stop fluttering?

  "This way." Her father directed them to the box. At least there were only six seats. Enough for her parents, herself, Banbury and…

  "The Dowager Duchess of Durbin," the lady introduced herself to her mother and father, then quickly darted her beady eyes in Katherine's direction.

  "My dear, you look ever so lovely."

  Katherine blushed again, and reached out to grasp the dowager's outstretched hands, leaning in to kiss both of her rouged cheeks.

  "Your grace, it has been an age. I've missed you dreadfully."

  A cough emanated from near the front of the balcony.

  All heads turned in the direction of the interruption.

  "Apologies, seems I've come down with a cold." Benedict shrugged and winked at his aunt, whose icy glare caused the group to take a step back.

  Benedict didn't seem the least bit affected. "We are so pleased to have you with us this evening." His voice dripped with sarcasm. The man was a conundrum, from his black attire, to the way his eyes scanned each person before him as if studying them.

  Katherine cleared her throat and moved to take a seat on the opposite side of the box, but a hand stopped her.

  "Katherine," her mother whispered harshly in her ear. "It will look dreadful if you do not sit next to your fiancé. Do not make this worse than it already is."

  It could get worse. It could get much worse. For one thing, Benedict could have her skirts lifted merely by crooking his pinky finger.

  She was a wanton hussy.

  The man had no shame, and no right to be as attractive as he was. Why was it that men who had impossible personalities were gifted with good looks? Should it not be the other way around?

  Then again, Paisley was quite handsome and kind and…

  You're not marrying Paisley, you nitwit!

  "Your grace." Katherine curtsied before taking a seat next to Benedict. The lights soon dimmed, and she found herself in quite an interesting position.

  For the close proximity seemed to cause a sensual current between the two of them. His thigh barely brushed hers, but he didn't seem the least bit affected. He crossed his arms and leaned back as if bored. While she, well, she was near trembling.

  And then the odious man stretched, just grazing her shoulder as his arm flew above his head. When his hands came down, a finger brushed hers.

  This was why they called him the devil. This very reason, for he was able to conjure up nonsensical feelings with a mere touch.

  "Tell me." She jumped as his lips barely touched her ear. "What is it you're thinking of? We both know you haven't even glanced at the performance."

  "If you must know," she hissed, "I was just wondering where Paisley was located. Your aunt expressed her desire for us to continue our acquaintance."

  "Paisley?" he all but spat. "He's engaged, as are you."

  "According to you, all I had to do was deny my attraction, and you would cry off."

  He shrugged. "I lied. Besides, you're already ruined. The way I see it, I'm doing you a favor merely by sitting with you."

  She hated that he was right.

  "Does he make you feel… things?"

  "Who?"

  "Paisley."

  "Of course. I feel quite happy when I am near him, which is more than I can say about you."

  Benedict chuckled, his finger drawing a slow circle on her arm. "I do not want you to feel happy when you are near me."

  "What a dreadful thing to say—"

  "I merely want you to feel…" He paused. "…alive."

  Any more alive and she would be quite dead from want.

  "You cannot force a person to desire you, as you well know," she said haughtily, her voice jumping a few octaves to prove her offense. She refused to look at him and kept her gaze on the performance.

  "My dear, who said anything about forcing?" His teeth nipped her ear just as she gasped and the crowd broke out in applause.

  The first act was done.

  She wasn't so sure she would make it through the rest.

  Benedict couldn't see straight, and it had nothing to do with whiskey, but everything to do with the minx sitting next to him.

  Had a courtesan dressed her?

  By Jove, she looked like… like… His mind was having trouble processing large words, and he struggled to remember to breathe at the same time, And considering he wanted
to go on living, thank you very much, he chose not to think of an appropriate word.

  "Beautiful," he muttered aloud without thought.

  Her head snapped in his direction, which then made his snap back to the stage where the second act would be starting soon.

  Well, now he looked like an overeager lad. Splendid.

  A commotion ensued to his left a few boxes down.

  Paisley.

  Katherine flinched at his side. Was he imagining things or was the girl actually trying to slouch further into her seat?

  Ridiculous.

  "Hiding?" He jerked her upright with one fluid movement.

  She glared. "Perhaps."

  "It would never work, you know."

  "What wouldn't?" The flicker of emotion in her eyes told him she knew exactly what he meant.

  "You and Paisley. Unlike myself, he's a man of honor. Aunt has already announced his betrothal. You'd have to kill the girl in order to gain his hand in marriage, and even then I'd wager against you."

  "Do you always offer such pretty compliments?" Her lower lip trembled. Blast it, was the chit going to cry now?

  "I'm merely telling you the truth. He is the honorable one."

  "What does that make you?" Surprisingly her lip stopped trembling, her glassy eyes pierced him with such longing, he nearly forgot to breathe.

  He swallowed, gaining time to gather himself. "It makes me the defiant one, I suppose."

  She continued looking straight through him, making it deuced uncomfortable to do anything but stare back.

  "Besides…" He leaned in and prayed Agatha wasn't watching. "Do you truly believe he could bring you pleasure after you've experienced it with me?"

  The minx smiled tightly. "Do you believe yourself to be the expert in that certain area, your grace?"

  "I don't believe. I know."

  She snorted.

  Did she doubt him?

  Of all the hair-brained notions. Had she any idea what type of man she was frivolously playing with?

  "Come on." He jerked her to her feet and made apologies to the rest of their company. "The lady wants to take some air… absolutely stuffy in here."

  Heads nodded emphatically, and then she was out into the hall with the duke, utterly pinned by his predatory stare.

  He stretched out his arm, giving her no choice in the matter but to take it and hope they would return soon.

  Dread filled her with each step away from the box. Swallowing her fear, and if she were being honest, her excitement of being alone with the man, she continued on until he stopped in a darkened corner and pulled her in with him.

  "Watch." He turned her toward the wall. Oh no, why hadn't she tried harder to fight him, or at least pulled away when he jerked her to her feet.

  Trembling, she had only the option of hitting him in hopes to escape. Of course she had known him since he was a child, but obviously the man was different than the boy, and she always had a sort of fear of him.

  "You've proven your point, now let me go." She moved to elbow him, but he slithered away.

  "Point? What point?" He sounded quite confused.

  "That you're not above terrifying innocent maidens into submission in order to gain what you want."

  At that, he laughed, throwing his head back and then finally meeting her gaze, an actual smile of amusement on his face.

  Katherine didn't mean to gasp, nor did she mean to lean forward to study the beautiful lines that made up this remarkable change in his demeanor, his deep set dimples, his wide smile.

  Slowly, she lifted her hand and delicately touched his jaw.

  Breath hissed between his teeth as he pushed her back against the wall she had just been just facing. "Am I terrifying now?"

  "Dreadfully."

  He needn't know that she was more astonished at his smile than truly terrified.

  "Good, though that wasn't why I went to all the trouble to bring you here. Now turn around like a good girl."

  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.