Forbidden (38 page)

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."