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?"
He 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 g
owns 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.
He kissed her, a feather-light kiss across the forehead. "Yes, love, yes they do."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Temptation, Thy Name is Katherine
Benedict wasn't sure if he was more amused, irritated, or pleased that Katherine had fallen asleep during their carriage ride.
He hadn't the heart to wake her up, not when her tiny hands reached inside his jacket and hugged his middle.
It was a shared moment, perhaps the most intimate moment of his life. To have a woman in her sleep completely trust him, forsaking her own safety and sanity and clinging to him. Well, it made him feel like the past few years of his life had been for nothing but selfishness. What had he been thinking?
He looked down at her sleeping form. This feeling, this raw desire, this primal need to protect her from everything, even if it killed him, was what he had been missing. And he hated himself for being so blind and stupid.
In fact, he was quite ready to shout it to the world, but again, he didn't want to ruin the moment.
He could have spent hours watching her sleep. The way her lips fell slightly open, her eyelashes resting against her pale skin. Her furrowed brows when she must have been dreaming, and the way her breathing seemed to lull him into a relaxed state; he could listen to her breathe all day.
And again he was hit with that thought, he had completely and totally fallen for this bewitching beauty, his childhood nemesis, the one girl he'd always thought he couldn't possibly come to care for in such a way, let alone bring himself to marry.
The carriage pulled to a halt. When he slid his hands beneath her a sense of rightness washed over him. It was like lifting a wisp of a cloud—a cherished, beautiful cloud. Walking with care, he gently carried his precious package up the stares. His heart pounding with each step.
The desire to stay with her was such a strong pull. He was half-tempted to run naked in the snow in order to shake off his improper feelings.
His valet would love that.
At least he'd been wearing clothes as of late, and at least trying to be amiable to the man. It wasn't Percy's fault he didn't like being fussed over or touched by a man in places no man should be touched by another man.
Regardless, he managed to set her on her bed, and kiss her just lightly across the lips before walking to the door.
"Benedict?" Her voice was groggy from sleep.
"Yes?" Run, run! His head screamed at him, old habits died hard, and he wanted desperately to show her how much he cared for her, to make her his before the vows were said.
"Thank you for my Christmas carriage."
His heart melted, then began hammering in his chest, it was nearly painful, the way her words affected him, making him want to hit himself in order to return to reality.
"You're welcome." His hand touched the door.
"Benedict?"
"Yes," he near growled. She had no idea the danger she was in of losing that precious virginity a week before she planned.
"Stay."
Fighting the urge to roar like a Neanderthal, Benedict chuckled. "Love, that wouldn't be a good idea."
"Please?" She rose from the bed just slightly, her hair falling across her shoulders in waves. His imagination would never be able to dream up a woman of her beauty, of the absolute devastating pull she had on him.
"If I stay…" Benedict groaned and leaned his head against the door. "I'll only stay until you're once again asleep, love, then I need to leave."
She sighed and lay back down on the bed.
He walked cautiously to the other side, not bothering to take off his boots, for that would be the beginning of the end. As far as his body was concerned, taking his boots off while lying next to a beautiful woman meant he was about to take off the rest of his clothes.
And he wasn't sure he would be able to stop with his boots.
Hilarious that the Devil Duke would need to keep his boots on in order to keep his lust in check.
"Sleep." He kissed her forehead, but she reached up and pulled his head closer to hers, opening her mouth to him.
He should have run.
He should have escaped when he had the chance.
He should have said no.
Hang honor, hang it all.
His lips crushed hers, Benedict's hands grasped her wrists pinning her to the bed as he nipped her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth.
She moaned.
He cursed then straddled her, because at the time it seemed the only option, not that it was intelligent by any stretch of the imagination.
Her body fit perfectly underneath him. Of course it would. He tugged at her bodice, pulling it down to her waist.
And then froze.
Time stood still.
He hated he was using such clichés in his mind, yet time did seem to stand still as he glimpsed her.
Bewildered that he was able to think beyond pleasuring her, he slowly pulled her bodice back up and kissed her gently across her lips.
"I'm going to give you more."
"What?" Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. "You don't want to…?"
"I want to give you the moon." He kissed her cheek. "I want to give, not take."
She nodded.
"Kate, you are far too special, and I fear it would be over before it began, for I find I'm having trouble controlling myself at this moment."
She smiled and touched his face with her hand.
"Goodnight, my sweet."
"Goodnight," she mumbled then turned to her side and closed her eyes.
To say that Benedict had a good night's sleep would have been a grotesque lie straight from the pit of Hades.
He did not, in fact, have a good night, nor did he sleep.
Oh, he was prone to exaggeration, this much was true, but when his valet came into the room to help him dress, he was already sitting in front of the fire, twiddling his thumbs, or if he was being completely honest with himself, thinking of Katherine.
"Your grace?" His valet's eyes were so incredibly wide it was amusing, except for the fact that Benedict was grumpy and tired, and truth be told, slightly aroused, even still. God save him.
"Well, let's get on
with it," Benedict snapped. When he looked in the mirror he nearly burst out laughing, apparently insanity was a close friend whilst running on little to no sleep. But he couldn't help himself.
"You're drunk then?" It was a statement from his otherwise stiff-necked valet. No doubt he was used to seeing Benedict at his worst.
But that was what kept making him laugh. He had stayed up all night, thinking about one woman. He hadn't been out with his mistresses, nor had he been at the gambling hells. He had simply sat in a chair, and he looked as though he had just spent the night in the worst parts of London.
"No," he answered. "I'm not drunk, but I will admit to being slightly unstable, in the emotional sort of way, so if you'll be quick about your duties, I have a woman to attend to."
"Always do."
"What was that?" Benedict snapped.
"Good for you." His valet smiled cheekily and patted his back smoothing out the lines of the coat. "It is the best I can do in your drunken state, your grace."
"Again, I'm not drunk."
"If you say so."
Benedict pointed to the door. His valet lifted up his hands in mock fear and walked out. That was the problem having the best valet money could buy — the man could afford to have an attitude.
Benedict clapped his hands together and nearly ran out the door, tumbling right into a woman.
"Apologies, I…"
Katherine looked up with bright eyes and a shy smile. "Benedict." Her chest heaved though he knew it couldn't possibly be exertion.
"How did you sleep?" she asked.
"Like a baby," he lied and offered his arm. "So, what shall we do today?"
"Well," Katherine blushed just slightly, the color bringing a rosy hue to her delicate cheekbones. "I thought perhaps we could have a snowball fight."
"In public?" He placed a hand over his chest and pretended to be offended. "My dear, dukes do not run around in public throwing snowballs. I don't know what anyone has told you about me, but…"
She threw back her head and laughed. "But, good sir, I was under the impression that dukes can do anything!"
Forbidden Page 32