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"As in?"

"
No
. I despise the word no. It is so
final, so cruel."

Katherine laughed. Oh, the man was
ridiculous. "And when was the last time someone told you no,
Benedict? If ever?"

"Well, I recall a certain someone saying no
to my proposal, and a certain someone also saying no to courting
me, which I'm still terribly distraught over. To think I missed any
chances I would have had at being skillfully wooed by a woman."

"My heart aches for your loss, your
grace."

"Does it?" He stopped skating, and pulled her
flush against his body. "And what, do you think would cause it to
beat, just a bit faster? Perhaps a kiss? Or mayhap, a tiny taste,
right here I think." His hand reached out and touched her chin. "I
find myself fascinated with your skin here, maybe your heart shall
begin to heal if I kiss right here."

"Or…" Katherine pulled away from him, feeling
flirtatious. "I'll merely say the word you despise the most in all
of the world, sending you into fits of hysteria."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've caused
mental and physical harm."

"And dare I say it won't be the last." She
winked.

Benedict threw his head back and laughed. It
seemed to silence the skating around him, causing stares to come
from every direction. Suddenly uncomfortable, Katherine blushed and
darted next to his side. But he wasn't totally balanced, he took a
topple so hard that her own bum hurt.

Letting out a string of curses, he looked up
at her from the ice and grimaced.

Katherine tried to keep from laughing. Really
she did, but the look on his face was so pouty, she couldn't help
but outright laugh at the picture he gave. Benedict's brows drew
together, his lips formed a grimace, and his face reddened just
slightly.

"Very funny," he hissed through his teeth as
he tried to set himself to rights. With Katherine's help they were
able to slowly make their way back to the bench where Lady
Anastasia and Paisley stood, mulled cider in hand.

Once Benedict was safely on the bench, he
smiled and refused to release Katherine's hand. "How about a kiss
for the wounded hero?"

"Wounded? Hero? Where, your grace? All I see
is the devil being brought back down to earth."

Paisley burst out laughing; then, at
Benedict's piercing gaze, he found his mulled cider even more
fascinating than before.

"Please?" Benedict pulled her closer, but at
that precise moment her skate caught on a chunk of ice. Her body
seemed to hang suspended in the air, her arms flailing at her sides
and then with a grimace she fell, but didn't touch the cold hard
ice as she thought would happen.

Instead she was in the arms of the duke.
Again.

The wrong duke. Paisley.

Mulled cider had spilt all over his clothes,
but he didn't seem to care a whit. "Are you well, my lady?"

She gulped and nodded her head. "Yes,
apologies. I didn't mean to ruin your cider."

"It's the cup I'm more concerned about." He
looked down to the broken mug lying across the ice.

"Sorry." Shaking off the embarrassment of
nearly taking another man down with her, Katherine tried to pull
away, but Paisley kept his hand firmly grasped around her waist.
"On that note, I believe it is time for us to skate." He flashed
her a smile and tugged her into the line of graceful skaters.

It felt different holding his hand.

As if they were opposites trying to attract
one another. It was warm and comforting but nothing more.

There was no nervousness at being near
Paisley, no tension as there was with Benedict.

Perplexed she looked up at his face and
squinted, perhaps getting too close, for he suddenly stopped and
looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked
politely.

"No." Katherine blushed. "I was merely, er,
examining you."

"For?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Imperfections?" she offered.

"And the consensus?"

"None."

Paisley put a hand to his heart and sighed.
"Imagine my relief."

Katherine bit her lip. "I'm terribly sorry.
It was rude of me to examine you so closely, it's just that…"

"What?"

They continued skating in circles, lazily
falling behind the groups racing around and around.

"I used to have a frightful tender for
you."

That stopped him. Perhaps she'd said too
much.

"And now?"

"Now?" She lifted an eyebrow amused that his
smirk didn't seem the least bit offended or wounded. "Now, I find
you perfectly perfect."

"Yet perfectly wrong for you?"

"Absolutely. So glad you understand,
Paisley."

He rolled his eyes. "Far be it from you to
use any sort of propriety with a man you find so repulsive."

"Not repulsive." Katherine nudged him. "More
brotherly than anything."

"Music to every man's ears." He laughed
aloud, this time stopping in order to catch his breath. "And dare I
guess where your affections lie?"

It was Katherine's turn to blush. But Paisley
stopped her, his hand cupping her chin in an intimate yet brotherly
fashion. "Do me a favor. Considering you find me perfectly
brotherly, take my advice. Tread carefully with my cousin,
alright?"

She nodded, and they continued to skate,
falling into easy conversation and laughing the entire time.

A Plan Forms

Benedict watched, perplexed
how
his plan could go so utterly awry. His brilliance was,
in fact, not so brilliant when his ploy of being injured left him
alone on the bench pouting, and Katherine skating with his
cousin.

The same cousin she used to desire.

The more they talked and laughed, the angrier
he became until a soft sigh on his left stole his attention.

Lady Anastasia looked quite ill. "Are you
unwell, Lady Anastasia?"

She sighed even deeper. "I'm lovely, just
lovely," came her dry reply. If he didn't know any better, he would
think she was being sarcastic.

He reached out and touched her arm. "You are
quite pale." Perhaps she would take the hint and tell him why she
looked so troubled. If anything it would take his mind off of
shooting his cousin in the arm for touching Katherine.

"Am I?" She slumped. Never had he seen Lady
Anastasia slump as if totally defeated. "Perhaps if your grace is
recovered enough, might you consider taking a turn with me around
the pond? I believe the cold is settling into my bones."

A conundrum. If he skated, Katherine would
know he wasn't injured, but anything was better than sitting, so he
hobbled along with Lady Anastasia and pasted a smile on his face,
though he could have sworn it felt menacing.

What the devil did Baldwyn find so amusing
about Katherine? And why was she leaning in toward him like
that?

He took Lady Anastasia's outstretched hand
into his, and limped while trying to appear a graceful skater,
around the outer perimeter of the pond.

"Careful," Lady Anastasia said to his left.
"Or you'll fall on your injury." Her smirk told him she didn't
believe for one second he was injured.

"What gave me away?"

"You were limping on the other foot not five
minutes ago."

Benedict cursed. "Perhaps I have a small
desire to be nurtured. Is that so wrong?"

"So even the Devil desires good deeds?
Interesting."

Well, when she put it that way…

"How are things progressing with my cousin?"
Benedict asked politely.

A blush crept up Lady Anastasia's cheeks as
she jerked her attention away from staring at Baldwyn. "I'm afraid,
they aren't."

"Aren't?"

"Progressing. In fact things seem exactly the
same as before, well, I guess that isn't entirely true after last
night's…" She clamped her mouth shut.

Benedict laughed heartily. "Your secret's
safe with me, though I wonder why the blasted man needed to be so
inebriated to do something he's been craving to do for days."

"I doubt that." Lady Anastasia looked down
and stopped skating.

Benedict wanted to strangle his cousin. How
dare he make this woman feel unwanted? It was safe to say that if
it was him the girl would already be ruined.

Katherine was a shining example of the way
Benedict handled women. But this was different, so he reached over
and touched her face, careful to slow his movements enough to gain
attention.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Lady Anastasia
sputtered.

"Giving you progression, my lady, in the
basest way I can."

"How?"

"Jealousy." And with that Benedict leaned
down to whisper nonsense into her ear about laughing and managing a
tiny blush.

The timing was perfect. Baldwyn's head
snapped to attention, and Katherine's eyes narrowed. Benedict shook
his head slightly and Katherine nodded. How was it that by that
simple action, he knew Katherine trusted him? In that very
moment?

He was about to skate to her, to steal her
away from his Scottish cousin, when shouting commenced from the
bench.

"I want to skate, and I'm going to skate!"
Agatha wailed.

Merciful heavens above, was it too much to
ask for God to have at least given her a quieter voice? Or perhaps
the ability to practice patience?

"Crazy old woman," he muttered as he
deposited Lady Anastasia on the bench and made his way toward his
aunt, praying a cloak of invisibility would suddenly find a way to
shield him from her pensive glare.

She yelled again, "Gentlemen!"

Benedict swallowed. She was referring to him
and Baldwyn, like little boys being punished, they slowly skated to
her side, each taking an arm.

"I wish to skate," she announced.

Benedict rolled his eyes at Baldwyn who
looked ready to cut himself a tiny ice hole and jump into it. "Yes,
I believe the entire pond has been made aware of your desire to
skate, Aunt."

"
Hmph.
" Her usual response.

"Don't argue with me, Benedict. Take my arm,"
she demanded. "Baldwyn! Look alive there, boy! I'm not growing any
younger."

Clearly,
thought Benedict.

"Take my arm and let's be off!" She waved
wildly in the air as if they were planning on flying rather than
skating, not that he would say it aloud lest she get ideas that
they should figure out a way to catapult her into the icy air.

"If you'll just hang on to us, I'm sure we
can take a turn about the pond, nice and slow now."

Baldwyn looked heavenward then back to
Benedict as if to say, "Do you think we have a chance of leaving
her in the middle and feigning memory loss?

"Faster," Agatha demanded.

"Aunt." Benedict cleared his throat. "If we
go any faster, I believe you'll lose your breath and have one of
those very real coughing fits."

Very real his a—

"I said I would desire for you to take me
faster, now do as I say."

Or reap the consequences
, Benedict
added mentally.

"As you wish." He increased his speed, as did
Baldwyn and soon the dragon was smiling.

"This is my favorite part."

"Pardon?" Benedict nearly tripped. Was she
just being polite?

"The wind, I miss the wind on my face. Makes
an old woman feel alive." Her pale eyes looked at Benedict and a
smile curved her lips. For such an ancient thing, she was quite
beautiful still. His heart clenched as she turned her face upward
and sighed.

Inwardly scolding himself for being so rude,
Benedict tightened his grip on her arm. If she trusted them enough
to close her eyes, if she was so completely within their clutches,
he was going to do a blasted good job of keeping her standing
straight, even if it killed him.

After a few minutes, Agatha sighed. "Stop!
I'm cold, take me back to the house at once!" Agatha paused, and
released their arms. "Baldwyn, Lady Anastasia looks quite frozen
over on the bench. Please see to her needs."

Benedict opened his mouth to speak, but
Agatha interrupted, "And Benedict, do be sure that Lady Katherine
is brought back to the house soon. She so desired to read this
afternoon, and I would hate to see her too frozen to do so."

With that, Agatha, frail little Agatha skated
off, at top speed, alone.

The little witch.

She knew exactly how to skate.

Why the devil did she…?

Separation. Benedict tossed his head back and
laughed, torn between the desire to applaud her genius or strangle
her for misinterpreting everything going on that afternoon, for she
should know him well enough to know. His attraction was to
Katherine, not Lady Anastasia.

He skated to Katherine and held out his hand.
"Oh, no you don't," she teased. "Last time we skated, we both fell,
and you were peeking beneath my skirts."

"It isn't peeking if the skirt flies up."

"Says who?" Her eyes widened with
indignation.

"I do."

"And let me guess, you're a duke, so your
opinion has to count for something?"

"Look how well we are communicating, love."
Benedict pulled her into a tight embrace, not caring that everyone
around them was most likely staring. "So if I kiss you right now,
it will not matter."

"B-because you're a duke."

"Precisely."

Katherine leaned in, her eyes
half-closed.

"But," Benedict said when their foreheads
touched, "I would hate to subject you to the whisperings and
gossip, so another time, then." He lifted her hand to his lips and
kissed each knuckle before slipping her arm within his.

She tripped, nearly losing her footing.

"My, my, and to think I didn't even kiss your
lips. I wonder if you would be able to walk in a straight
line."

"Obviously I did before."

"But my kiss is different now," Benedict
argued.