Forbidden (49 page)

It wasn't a question.

"If you'll have me."

"One question." Her hands opened and closed
at her sides as if she was trying to regain feeling in her
fingers.

"Yes."

"Last night, did you—"

"No!" he yelled, and then, "Absolutely not!
You must know how I feel about you, Katherine. I would not do that
to you. I have not touched another woman since that first night at
the ball."

"Good," she said tersely.

"Good?" He shuffled closer to her.

"Yes." She whipped around and charged toward
him.

Here it comes.

"You are mine. Mine, you devil! If I ever
catch you with another woman, if you as much as grin at a woman in
the next ten years of our marriage, I'll castrate you. Do I make
myself clear?"

His body responded to her in such a violent
way he he nearly fell to the ground. Groin tightening, he couldn't
help the growl that passed through his lips at her possessive
words. "Crystal." Heaven help him, he loved her. He wanted to tell
her, to fall to his knees. It wasn't the time. Would it ever be the
time?

"Fine." She pushed away from him and walked
to the door.

"Katherine," he called.

She stopped.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words seemed
too shallow, not deep enough to convey how wretched he felt, how he
wanted to cut himself open and bleed all over the floor.

Benedict wasn't sure how long he stood there,
immobile. Matters became worse when people continued to shuffle in
throughout the day in hopes to help redecorate a few rooms as a
surprise-wedding gift from Katherine.

He was a cad.

He wasn't sure if he should get foxed.

Shoot himself in the foot.

Or just apologize again and again until she
knew he meant it.

He started with flowers. As many as he could
order, and sent them to her house. No response.

So he became creative.

He bought her a horse. Stupid idea really,
what the devil was she going to do with an extra horse?

And then a thought occurred to him. When they
were young, she had always liked to read. Books were her favorite
pasttime, the little bluestocking.

With a smile, he placed his next order.

Books, lots and lots of books.

When his final gift elicited no response, he
decided to make his way over there in person.

"Lady Katherine is indisposed and not
receiving callers, your grace." The butler's expression was heated.
Benedict half-expected his coattails to catch on fire.

"Do you know if she at least received the
books?" Benedict asked.

At that, the butler's face broke into an
amused smile. "Ah yes, I believe the lady mentioned something about
using the books for kindling in place of wood. Brilliant idea, if I
say so myself. Good day." The butler shut the door.

In his face. A duke's face nonetheless.

Benedict cursed and looked up at the large
house, scaling the wall was out of the question.

Desperate, he ran around to the back.

Spying. He was now resorting to spying on the
woman he was to marry.

A door opened, Katherine emerged onto the
balcony, a sad smile on her lips. "Is he gone?"

"Yes, my lady." The maid curtsied. "Will that
be all?"

"Yes, but, next time he arrives, allow him
into the sitting room. I shall see him now."

Benedict almost ran back to the front of the
house to knock on the door, but something in Katherine's expression
gave him pause.

And then he saw them. Watery tears running
down her cheeks. She lifted her dainty hand to wipe them away then
let out a guttural sigh before laying her head against the rail of
the balcony and hiding her face in her hands.

He was the reason.

Suddenly, he felt quite at odds with himself.
As if he had put his boots on the wrong feet. Having made a mess of
things, he knew the only person he could trust to give him adequate
advice was the one person he never expected to be seeking wisdom
from.

Agatha.

She should be arriving today.

After all, she was to make an appearance at
the Kringle Ball in a few days, and she would want to rest up
before she did so.

A new plan began to form in his head, one
that caused a slight smile to replace the frown.

A Sad End, A New Beginning

Benedict appointed his
very
best footman to stand watch by his aunt's house. The
minute she arrived, he wanted to know.

Hours later, he was knocking on the door with
such force, he thought it would come off the hinges.

"Yes?" Baldwyn answered, odd. Where the devil
was the butler? The minute his eyes fell on Benedict, he exhaled
and pulled him into a hug. "I saw you from the window, by the time
Agatha's old butler would have made it here, you would have been an
old man."

Coughing was heard from behind Baldwyn. He
rolled his eyes.

Benedict stepped into the house; it felt odd,
almost eerie. "What's going on? Something's wrong." But everything
seemed to be in place. From the perfectly calm servants to the
sparkling floors.

Everything but… Agatha.

Dread shot down his spine, Benedict looked at
Baldwyn with a questioning gaze. "I take it she's resting."

Baldwyn lifted his arm and scratched the back
of his head, and it was then that Benedict was able to focus on his
cousin's horrendous demeanor.

"What the devil happened to you?"

"Life," Baldwyn muttered. "Agatha, Anastasia,
marriage, and a half-empty bottle of brandy, thanks for
asking."

Benedict squinted and leaned in toward his
cousin. "Let's start with the first one, though I can't help you
with life, considering I've mucked up my own and that of the woman
I love quite thoroughly. Let's discuss Agatha."

At the mention of her name, a nearby maid
burst into tears and ran from the entryway.

Was the woman that much of a dragon to her
own staff?

"She's not well." Baldwyn swallowed and
looked away, his eyes glassy from being foxed or perhaps
depressed.

"I need to speak with her."

"Follow me." Baldwyn led him to Agatha's
chambers. "I'll just be outside while you two have a little
chat."

Benedict opened the door and paused.
"Baldwyn?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love her?"

Baldwyn paled. "Agatha? Of course, you fool,
anyone would—"

"Not Agatha. Anastasia. Do you love her?"

Immediately Baldwyn looked to the floor.
"Yes."

"Then you should tell her before you lose her
forever."

Benedict slapped his cousin on the shoulder
and walked into the large room. It reeked of medicine and tonics.
Confused, he looked from left to right until his eyes finally
settled on a lump in the bed.

"Aunt?" He walked closer, irritated at the
ridiculous knot of emotion in his throat.

"Benedict? Is that you?" Her voice was raspy
and weak.

"Yes." He sat on the bed and grasped her
frail hand. "Are you feeling under the weather?"

"Oh, it will blow over, it always does."
Agatha waved him off with her other hand. "So, what brings you
here? I can only imagine the amount of pride you swallowed to seek
me out. Surprised you made it up the stairs without cursing me to
perdition."

Benedict chuckled, his hand slowly caressing
hers. "It seems I've some more pride to swallow, if you'll allow
me."

"Always." Her eyes twinkled, but her face was
still far too pale for his liking.

"Well, I don't really know how to start."

"Remember, I do love your stories. Let us
start at the beginning, shall we?" With a sigh, she tried to
squeeze his hand though it was a vain effort for the thing had
little strength in her.

"Katherine, she won't, that is to say she
won't…"

"Marry you?" Agatha interrupted.

"No, she'll still marry me."

"Then she's disagreeable?"

"No, she's amiable, perfect really."
The
most beautiful woman I've ever seen
, he wanted to add.

"Did she offend you in some way then?" Agatha
coughed and reached for the water. He helped her take a sip and
shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid it is I who has done the
offending. Though I wasn't aware that my past actions would
overshadow my future happiness, it seems I've done just that. I've
ruined it."

Agatha tilted her head. "But you say she's
still going to marry you?"

"Yes."

"Then what is the problem?" Agatha's eyebrows
pinched together.

"She won't forgive me."

"But she'll marry you?" Agatha repeated. She
truly must be sick for she never wasted time repeating anything, if
he wasn't fortunate enough to hear her the first time, well the
loss was his, and he would undoubtedly suffer for it.

"Yes," he said slowly.

A smile broke out across her weathered face.
"So you wish for something more than marriage. Is this what I'm
understanding?"

"Well, I…" Benedict paused, thinking quite
seriously on his aunt's simple words. "I want more, but I also want
to give her more. I want…" He looked away, a lump forming in his
throat. Devil take it, he could not cry over a girl.

"Everything." Agatha patted his hand. "My
dear boy, you want everything, all she has to offer, all she has to
give, including the very next breath she breathes. Everything is
your answer, now for the question. What are you willing to do to
obtain it?"

Benedict swallowed, the emotion of the moment
was too much for him. To see Agatha — irritating, disagreeable,
formidible Agatha — sick, to know he was making Katherine ill with
heartache, not to mention the issue with his own heart. The very
heart that seemed to have trouble beating without Katherine
near.

"Anything. I would do anything."

"So you'd abandon all those mistresses."

"Already done."

"You'd turn away from your devil-may-care
attitude and vices?"

Was that even a question? "Of course!"

"And you'd give yourself fully to the one
person in the world who has enough of your heart to break it. Would
you do that, Benedict?"

His heart hammered in his chest. He looked
from Agatha to his hands, the very same hands that all day had felt
naked as if missing the other half that fit within them. "I have,"
he mumbled, his voice sounding foreign because of the hoarse
emotion coming from his lips.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

His head snapped up. "I don't know."

With that, he jumped up from his seat and
walked to the door, then on second thought, he walked back to
Agatha and kissed her on the brow. "You always were my favorite
aunt."

"I'm your only aunt, you rogue." She tried to
laugh but instead coughed.

"And I'm so glad you are." He kissed her
again and fought the emotional turmoil taking place in his heart
when a single tear ran down her face.

"As am I, as am I."

He left her then, and walked down the stairs
to the study where he knew he would find Baldwyn.

But the room was empty. He heard footsteps
and turned.

Baldwyn had cleaned up and was ready to
leave.

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked, though
he had an idea.

"I have to tell her." Baldwyn was perspiring
as he had been running around the house at full speed.

"Then tell her." Benedict encouraged and
laughed. "Apparently Agatha does have the final say, eh?"

Baldwyn rolled his eyes. "Do not get me
started. That woman's intuition frightens me."

Both men fell silent. Then turned to look at
the stairs.

"Do you think?" Baldwyn didn't finish his
question.

"She said it will pass." Benedict cleared his
throat. "After all, she's a tough old thing. It isn't as if she is
doing to die."

Baldwyn nodded his head. "You're right.
Paranoia is a side effect of too much drinking I hear."

At that, Benedict laughed and walked out of
the house, in search of one woman that could bring him to his
knees.

How Much Do I Love Thee?

Katherine hated to
admit
that every time there was a noise, she ran to the
windows and plastered her face against the glass hoping in vain
that it would be Benedict's curricle outside, meaning he had come
to call again.

After rejecting him again this morning when
all the lovely books arrived, she hadn't the heart to do it
again.

Granted, she was hurt, upset, and at the most
ridiculous moments felt that she would burst into tears.

Could she trust him with her heart? He had
said as much. He had promised they would marry and be happy.

But he hadn't promised fidelity. Nor had he
fully explained his situations with the many mistresses.

Then again, it was natural that he would have
done some horrendous things a gentle bred lady wouldn't hear about.
After all, he hadn't just obtained his nickname from all his many
scandals and running around his house in the nude.

The question that burned at the back of her
mind was…
what if?
What if he was to change? What if he
wanted to change? What if he was trying?

Yet, it seemed so foolish. Surely every girl
thought such things when wanting to reform a rake of the first
order. Every girl wanted to be the girl who was so special she
would change the devil into an angel. And she wasn't so certain she
was pretty enough or exciting enough to hold his attention.

The knocker on the door announced another
visitor. With great self-control she managed to sit and pretend to
read one of the many novels Benedict had given her, when the door
to the sitting room opened, and Benedict was announced.

She slowly put the book down. Benedict's face
lit up, a smile broke out across his features, and in two strides
she was in his arms, being pressed against the wall with such force
she was sure her form would be permanently glued to the wallpaper.
His kiss was hungry yet affectionate, as he parted her lips with
his tongue and caressed her face with his hands.