The Devil Duke Takes a Bride Page 8

  It was her fault.

  She even turned her clumsiness into a private joke between the two, smiling at him, making him feel warm inside as if her smile held the secret to the sun’s rays.

  The secret to the sun’s rays?

  And apparently, in his mad state, he was turning into a poet.

  Heaven help him.

  He was losing not only his sanity but also his heart. Benedict could only hope that Katherine would do something, anything to make him remember the girl she once was, not the seductive woman he currently saw.

  It had taken the power of God alone to get him to stop kissing her in the snow and the strength of angels to push his feet toward the house.

  He made his way down the stairs to the dining room and cursed his eyes for scanning the room in hopes to see Katherine.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  Perplexed, he didn’t even see Lord Marks until the man cleared his throat. “Say, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so distracted, your grace.”

  “Yes well, I…” Benedict felt off balance, as if someone had pushed him onto ice without skates. “Have an aversion to cold weather,” he offered, wanting to slap himself for such a ridiculous excuse.

  “Do you now?” Lord Marks looked amused, his brown eyes twinkling as he folded his arms across his chest.

  “Yes.” Benedict stood his ground and promptly began to sweat. He still felt odd as if something was off, perhaps the universe was trying to communicate with him that he needed to stop being a besotted fool and kissing girls who would rather fillet him alive than marry him. And then, his eyes again scanned the doors to the dining room. They opened.

  His mouth dropped open.

  Lord Marks cleared his throat. “Close your mouth before you scare the poor thing. She is not to be the meal.”

  Saints alive, let her at least be the dessert then.

  Katherine walked in with more grace than she ought to possess considering she had only hours ago tripped out of the carriage and started the most arousing snowball fight he had ever had the pleasure of participating in.

  His eyes openly admired her form in the blue dinner dress. Had she any idea how much skin she was showing? The poor thing was going to freeze to death! Suddenly irate and irritated that she would think nothing of her health, Benedict stomped over to where she stood and grabbed her arm roughly, placing it within his and growled.

  Yes, like a dog. He growled to show his displeasure. Was he now at odds with his body? It seemed to instinctively do things it ought not do. Poetry? Growling? Staring? Salivating? Sweating?

  Cursing, he clenched her hand and gave her a tight smile. “Beautiful dress.”

  “Why thank you I—”

  “—where would the rest of it be? Hmm?” His eyes flickered to her breasts and then back up to her face, and to his ultimate shame, back down to her breasts where they stayed for a painfully long time until she nudged him in the ribs.

  “Manners, you devil.” Katherine winked.

  His stomach did an odd sort of flop.

  His heart increased his blood flow to all the wrong areas of anatomy, and when he made introductions to the rest of the dinner party, he felt such a stab of jealousy when Sir Constantine’s gaze flew to her bosom that he thought his head would explode.

  If not for Katherine being on his arm, he would have ripped the man's head off and beat him with it. But the minute he tensed, Katherine looked up through dark lashes and smiled brilliantly, striking him dumb and immobile.

  “Shall we sit?” she whispered, her lips only inches from his.

  Why did her simple invitation seem to be one of sin rather than common sense? Shall we sit? Why the devil would he sit when he wanted nothing more than to lay, plunder, possess… Truly he could think of any number of actions he would rather give his full participation to than sitting.

  Alas, he was in public, and though his reputation laughed in the face of propriety, he couldn’t bring himself to ravish the girl in public, no matter how badly he desired it. Katherine’s eyes crinkled at the sides as she offered a small smile and brought her hand down her neck to her chest.

  Minx.

  Dessert, yes she would be his dessert if he made it through dinner, but he had his doubts.

  By the time the third course was served, Benedict had imagined all sorts of ways to kill oneself with a fork.

  There was of course, the slow death of pounding one’s head against the sharp object. Naturally, he could slice his skin with the knife if he felt so compelled. And his personal favorite, try to swallow the thing and hope death would come swiftly in the form of asphyxiation.

  None of those options, however, provided him a fast enough escape from his current predicament.

  It had all started with the soup.

  And went downhill from there.

  There was nothing particularly wrong with the soup. It was hot, and he was hungry, but his blasted eye had the ridiculous notion that it needed to pay attention to the woman on his right.

  Katherine, to be exact.

  And blast if that eye didn’t train on her very lips as she held the spoon near them and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

  He had shifted in his chair.

  Deuced uncomfortable dinner to be honest.

  He prayed the soup would be taken away and fifteen agonizing minutes later, it was replaced with something new.

  Ah! Yes, at least roast goose would give him respite. For what woman in all creation could make roast goose look erotic?

  Oh, how wrong he had been.

  Even now his body tightened at the thought.

  And he wasn’t quite sure eating dinner would ever be enjoyable again, at least not when he had guests surrounding him and Katherine dropping pieces of meat into her delicate mouth. He nearly wept as she would close her eyes and moan when no one was looking, no one but him unfortunately. Her vulgarity knew no end, yet he found it fascinating as the low rumble would start in her throat and spread until he nearly dropped his fork each time she brought food to her lips. Finally, she would swallow and take a sip of wine, what he wouldn’t give to be glassware in that moment.

  Well, he hadn’t eaten anything at all, which of course caused a ridiculous amount of questions. Was he feeling well? Had the ride from town been rough? If only, he thought, if only it was anything but demure.

  Voice hoarse, he had merely shook his head and prayed for Katherine to spill her wine or do something clumsy.

  Instead, his unsteady hand hit the wine causing a fiasco at the table. Once dessert was served, the women retired away from the men, and he was finally at peace with his cheroot and brandy out on the balcony.

  And then he felt her.

  Benedict couldn’t help but think it had to be some sort of sixth sense, that every time she was near, he would begin to shake and lose control of his calm exterior. His body would heat, thinking on her until he wanted to begin stripping his clothes.

  “Am I interrupting?” she asked, lightly falling beside him, her dainty arms leaned across the balcony, breasts spilled over her dress, and again he was struck dumb. Why the blazes hadn’t she worn a coat?

  “You’ll catch your death out here,” he grumbled, disgusted with his lack of bodily control. As it was, he was having a devil of a time keeping his arousal in check, and he hadn’t even touched the girl.

  “Well, good thing I have my fiancé nearby to warm me up.” Katherine looked up at him with merry eyes and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

  It was his undoing.

  That one touch.

  The one gaze from her eyes.

  And again he found himself falling, as if he could no longer see straight or stay in balance if his life depended on it. His need was so great that he wanted to yell and laugh at the same time.

  Instead he just kissed her.

  But to say it was just a kiss would be like saying the ocean was just a mass of water, or the sun was just a star. No, this kiss was unlike any other kiss he had ever experienced
in his lifetime or hoped to experience.

  Because, he thought as his lips danced with hers, it was shared with his other half.

  And in that kiss, as she sighed into his arms, as his tongue dove deep into the velvet moisture of her mouth, he knew he wanted to continue to fall if it meant she would be the one to catch him.

  In the end, is that not what everyone else wanted?

  With the strength of a god, he pulled back and muffled a curse before raising his eyes heavenward. “She’s won, by Jove, she’s won.”

  “Pardon?” Katherine’s lips were still swollen from their kiss, her eyes barely visible through her thick lashes. “Who won?”

  “The devil.”

  “I thought you were the devil?”

  He snickered. “Where did you think I descended from? Thin air? And I was referring to my aunt.”

  “Oh?” Katherine squinted at him as if he had in fact turned into a pink unicorn. To be fair, he was acting like a complete idiot, spouting nonsense into the sky like a fool. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Are you well?” she whispered near his face, too near, for it caused him to jerk back and trip. He hadn’t the grace or common sense to break his fall as he collapsed onto the hard ground and looked up into her amused eyes.

  Gracefully, she knelt down and felt his head. “You’re positively flushed, shall I take you to bed?”

  “Please.” He begged, wanting much more than she was offering, innocent that she was.

  “I meant,” she scolded, hitting him with her hand, “should I help you to you room then promptly leave you to suffer alone?”

  Well, at least she didn’t offer to kill him. He had been quite forward with her all evening, and he deduced he was already on some sort of borrowed time considering his behavior was appalling. Not that he wasn’t used to offending others, but not her.

  Not her.

  Suddenly, he wanted much more than to give in because his aunt desired him to marry.

  He wanted to.

  Devil take him… he wanted to treat her…

  Why was it so hard to say in his head?

  He wanted to court the girl, to do right by her.

  He waved in the air, literally lifted his hand and waved, as all of his best laid plans flew into the night sky. There would be no ravishing, no ruining, no laughing in the face of marriage.

  No, he imagined he was the type of man that once marriage took him prisoner, he would happily, if not drunkenly, offer his leg willingly to the ball and chain and boast about it for the rest of his days.

  Such a nuisance that.

  Having forgot that he waved into the night sky, Katherine felt his forehead again. “You do not feel feverish. Tell me, what is your name, and where are you?”

  Oh, he could have fun with this one. Perhaps just a little ruin never hurt anyone? He gave a goofy grin and shrugged.

  “Oh my!” Katherine helped him to his feet and immediately began reprimanding him as she led him into the house. “And to think you would get so foxed! My goodness, have you any care for your reputation? Never mind I momentarily forgot with whom I was speaking. But we both know how accident-prone you can be. Imagine if you would have fallen from the balcony! Whatever would we do!”

  He smiled smugly. Of course she cared for his welfare. It felt good.

  “I mean…” She cursed under her breath. “Imagine the mess the servants would have to clean up, and then I would have to tell your dragon of an aunt that I led you to your death, and she would most likely say finally, considering I have brought you quite close at least three times.”

  “Four.” He coughed then slapped the silly grin back in place.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  He purposefully tripped on the first stair.

  Shaking her head, she helped him up the stairs and continued her tirade until she pushed open the bedroom doors and laid him across the bed.

  Surely in his drunken, albeit falsely drunken, state one could not blame him for taking full advantage.

  And take full advantage he did. With a sigh he pulled her onto his body and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seduction by Moonlight

  “Oomph!” Katherine fell across his hard muscled body with a thud. Well, now he’d done it. She was in somewhat of a pickle. How the devil was she to pry her body from his when the man's hands were pulling her tighter and tighter against him?

  Honestly, she’d never seen him so foxed before. Was he that upset over the marriage? Perhaps, it was boredom. He was, after all, the devil. Meaning he was used to much more lively entertainment than eating a casual dinner and smoking a cheroot.

  She sighed and tried to pry her body free.

  Benedict’s response was a moan. His lips somehow found hers again and he worked his spell, his wicked magic over her body until she was sure she was going to go to a very fiery place.

  They were not married.

  They were only betrothed.

  Accidently, of course.

  And now she was in his bedroom, his bedroom! Acting the absolute wanton, but oh the things he did with his tongue.

  “Benedict,” she whispered against his lips. “Benedict, you must let me go.”

  “No.”

  “No?” His lips moved to her neck, his warm tongue traced the curve of her jaw.

  Oh the wicked things he did with his tongue. “Yes, you want me to let you go, or no, you want to stay?”

  “Yes, no!”

  “Wait, do you mean yes or no? Sorry love, I’m somewhat foxed and need you to be a little more direct.”

  She kicked him with her foot.

  He laughed. “I deserved that. It appears when I asked for you to be direct, you were under the impression I wanted violence.”

  Katherine closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. “You are impossible.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He sighed and then miraculously released her. Only, she wasn’t prepared so she fell off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor.

  Benedict chuckled then peeked over the edge. “Take a tumble, did you?”

  “Sometimes I wish I could slap you.”

  “Believe me, love, it would only encourage me more.”

  She smiled despite herself and righted her skirts so she wasn’t again flashing her knees to the duke and stood on wobbly legs.

  “Goodnight, your grace,” she said in her haughtiest voice.

  “Goodnight, my love.”

  Rolling her eyes, she walked to the door. He was most definitely foxed, for everyone knew the Devil Duke did not love. He was more likely to jump off the highest balcony in London than admit any sort of emotional attachment.

  This really was a pity, considering her heart did a tiny clench when he uttered those sacred words.

  “Goodnight,” she said again before stepping quietly into the hall.

  ****

  Katherine was slow to rise. By the time she made it down to break her fast, nearly all the guests were already seated and eating.

  She took a plate and began to fill it.

  As she reached for the toast, a hand slipped beneath hers and took the plate away. “Allow me.”

  She looked up and nearly fainted dead away. The duke of Paisley began filling her plate with every available dish, all the while glaring at her as if she had suddenly announced that she was fighting for Napoleon.

  “Thank you?” she said trying to take the plate from his hands.

  “What the devil did you do?” he seethed.

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me.” His Scottish brogue was fighting to break through the words. “Last I left my cousin, he was debauching the better half of London and after nearly a week in your presence and he’s, he’s… well, look at him.”

  Perplexed, she looked in the direction that Baldwyn pointed. Benedict was sitting at the table, conversing with everyone around him and laughing. Everything looked as it should. Perhaps Paisley was the one with the issu
e, was he foxed this early?

  She turned back to the Scottish duke. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. He’s acting perfectly fine.” She shrugged and continued piling food onto her plate.

  “Fine!” Paisley roared, gaining attention from everyone in the room including Benedict whose smile very quickly faded as he pushed away from the table, his chair scraping the floor. “Drinking, scowling, prowling, devil take it! Stripping naked in public! Those are the things I come to expect from my cousin, not this… this lightheartedness! I want him back. Give him back.”

  “Give what back?” Benedict interrupted.

  “Good morning, your grace. It seems your cousin would like me to give back your scowl, prowl, drink, and what else? Oh yes, he would prefer if you were naked.”

  Paisley blushed. “That is not what I meant.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Katherine winked.

  “It’s just… Benedict.” He turned to his cousin. “Why the devil are you so happy? It’s as if she’s won.” At Benedict’s sheepish look Paisley cursed fluently. “Don’t tell me. Do not tell me. You, you, you…”

  “Use your words.” Benedict slapped him on the back.

  “Y-you are happily marching to the marriage drum! And with her!” He pointed at Katherine. Honestly, was she so bad?

  “Yes.” Benedict turned to her and grabbed her hand placing a kiss across the knuckles. “Her.”

  Well, that was nice. With a smug grin, she glanced back to Paisley and lifted an eyebrow.

  “I cannot believe this.” Paisley shook his head. “I…I…”

  “Your grace?” Katherine tilted her head. “You wouldn’t be afraid of the same fate, now would you?”

  “Ha, ha!” He laughed and slapped his leg. “Now, that is, absolutely ridic—”

  He froze, the words died on his lips. His eyes glazed over, Katherine fought the urge to wave in front of his face. Instead, she looked in the direction that Baldwyn was focused on. Lady Anastasia entered the room, looking much like a fairy princess. That was when Katherine knew. The poor man had already fallen. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Go.” Katherine pushed him. “Tell her she looks pretty.”