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"Why before?"

"Your aunt was hunting for you that night as
well, Benedict, and if memory serves, you had just wagered a
thousand pounds that it would rain before morning."

Benedict's face turned serious. "How did you
know my aunt was chasing me?"

"Oh, you looked quite frantic, which is why I
offered you an escape."

"The escape being my ultimate death?"

"I didn't say I planned it
well
,"
Katherine argued. At this point, her smile was going to freeze onto
her face, permanent that it was.

"Minx, you've been trying to ruin me your
whole life, admit it."

Katherine laughed. "Perhaps you're just upset
that I ruined you first, Benedict." His name came out as a
whisper.

Eyes darkening, he leaned forward. "I didn't
know you could ruin a devil."

"And I didn't know you could redeem one, yet
here we are."

"Yes." His hands moved to her shoulders and
then her neck. "Here we are."

His lips were just a breath away from hers,
but the carriage jolted them out of their moment, putting a stop to
whatever spell had descended upon the carriage.

"I'll just be reading then," Katherine
said.

"…must catch up on my sleep, you understand,"
he answered at the same time and quickly closed his eyes.

Catch up on his
sleep? More like experience firsthand torture. Confound it!
Benedict had again almost kissed the girl!

It wasn't necessarily the kiss that upset
him.

No, it was the way his body responded to her
laugh, her every word, as if she wasn't just conversing with him
but making love to him.

Which was sheer madness! Speaking was not
making love.

And yet, with Katherine it was.

Every word formed with her delicate lips,
every sigh that escaped without her notice, every bat of her
lashes.

Mad. He was going absolutely mad.

But kissing her? It would make things
exponentially worse, for he wouldn't stop at one kiss. He would not
insult his own intelligence by justifying such an action.

With Katherine, a kiss had never been a kiss,
but sheer ecstasy like he had never known. Her smell, her taste,
everything about her unique and spiced.

Better than whiskey. Blast it, better than
sex.

Madness. When a man compared kissing to sex
and kissing won out, he needed to embark on a weeklong stint of
debauchery.

Yet, all he could think about was her kiss,
her lips, and the simple idea that in a few short weeks she would
say yes, and he could spend his days and his nights finding out
what was so intriguing about the saucy minx sitting in that
carriage.

Yet, a part, a small part, warned him that
once he began that discovery, he would never want to stop.

A Snowball For a Duke

Katherine was jolted
awake
by Benedict's hand.

"Well? Are you going to wake up, or do I need
to carry you?"

Ah, just what she needed — a reminder of why
he was called the Devil Duke, why he was disagreeable, and why she
was upset she wasn't with his cousin. Katherine had needed that
reminder, for her heart had felt lost on the journey, and she
wasn't sure what was happening to her. Something larger than
friendship was blossoming between them.

And she wasn't sure her heart could take the
devastation of what a man like Benedict would bring. Surely she
could marry him and keep herself indifferent if he was
disagreeable. But what if she began to like him, to befriend him,
to love him?

He would destroy her.

It would start slow. Most likely Benedict
would show her firsthand exactly why women whispered about his
sexual encounters. But after a few weeks or even a few months, he
would get bored. His eyes would wander in the general direction of
the courtesans, and he would be lost forever.

His laugh, gone.

His smile, nonexistent.

And she would be heartbroken.

Which was why, when he woke her up with a
smile on his face, she nudged him out of the way and stepped out of
the carriage on her own.

What she didn't know was that the ground was
far closer than she realized, and she nearly lost her footing.

Thankfully, Benedict was close behind her and
caught her arm, but not before it hit him square in the face with a
resounding thud.

The footmen gasped.

But Katherine laughed.

Benedict cursed. "And there she is. I was
wondering when your clumsy self was to make another
appearance."

She curtsied, because really there was
nothing else to do in such circumstances, and wonder of all wonders
the Devil Duke laughed heartily, causing the footmen to gasp for an
entirely different reason.

Naturally his laugh was followed by an
excessive amount of throat clearing and chest thumping. After all,
the devil was to never laugh in public. Benedict had always tried
to keep his manners indifferent when in the presence of the
ton
, far be it from them to discover he actually had a
heart. The mamas would be relentless in their pursuit if they
thought him anything but disagreeable.

Katherine wasn't sure what possessed her to
indulge the man in a bit of playfulness. Maybe it was the way he
cloaked his merriment with a devil-may-care attitude, or the line
of his shoulders when he brought them back and tried to escort her
into the large house.

Perhaps,
she thought as she looped her
arms within his,
childhood never truly leaves you. Maybe your
physical body grows into what society deems acceptable, but those
dreams, the itches you get to do something adventurous and
dangerous never die. If anything, they are more intense in their
drive, for the minute you decide to give in to the immaturity that
plagued you when you were small, you are able to be free, to laugh,
and to fly.

"Benedict," she whispered out of earshot of
the footman. No doubt they would expire on the spot if they heard
her addressing him as such.

"Hmm?" He turned his large body toward hers.
Eyebrows drawn in as if he was contemplating the meaning of
life.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Whatever for?"

With a quick tug, she had him on his back
against the snowy powder of the ground.

"What the devil!" he shouted.

And then Katherine grabbed a touch of snow in
her hand and drizzled it on his face as if it were sand.

He became very serious then.

Almost too serious.

Making her think she had finally gone too
far.

And then with a roar, he jumped to his feet
firmly packing a snowball in his hand as his eyes turned to steel.
"Run."

So she did.

As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran
around the outside of the estate laughing the whole way. Snowballs
flew past her head. Giggling, she found it nearly impossible to
keep running as she heard him yelling threats from behind.

And then his large arms came around her, and
he whispered hoarsely in her ear, "Now, it's my turn to be
sorry."

"For wh—?"

Benedict pushed her to the ground and pounced
near her in the snow, he pinned her to the cold wet earth and
leaned in. Panting, he lifted the snowball in his hand and laughed.
"What will you give me for a truce, my lady?"

Giggling, she pushed the escaped hair away
from her face and gazed into his eyes. It felt quite like she was
falling, only she was nowhere near a cliff or in danger. Yet her
heart screamed
jump, jump, jump
. "Will a kiss be
acceptable?"

"No." He threw the snowball down to the
ground.

Her heart thudded, slow and heavy, in her
chest and finally came to a near stop.

Benedict's hands threaded through her hair
pulling her head closer to his until their breaths were mingled.
"Just one kiss is never acceptable."

At the first touch of his lips, her world
spun. His kiss was playful, as his tongue wrestled with hers and
then slid out of her mouth. He tilted his head at a different
angle, his cold nose lighting her skin like a fire, and then warmth
met her again, as he tugged her head tighter and pressed his lips
harder until it was difficult to breathe.

"One kiss is never acceptable," he repeated,
out of breath, and held out his hand. Unashamed, and still flushed
from their little game, she took his arm and walked with him back
to the front of the house.

"I fear we've caused a bigger scandal than
when the
ton
saw my knees," she said, changing the subject —
anything to rid herself of the odd tingling sensation Benedict's
mouth had left on her person.

Benedict pulled her closer and kissed the top
of her head. "I'm a duke. Believe me, the footmen will be silent,
and as for everyone else, it appears we are the first to
arrive."

"But what about Lord Marks? Surely he'll see
the state of our dress?" She looked into his eyes and tried to calm
her rapid gasps of excitement. Handsome to the point of stopping
hearts, he merely shrugged. "That part, I already have figured
out."

"What do you mean?" Katherine asked.

"You'll see."

Fifteen minutes later, standing in front of
the fire in her room, she knew exactly what the devil had meant.
For the second Lord Marks had greeted them, Benedict had gone into
detail of how Katherine, in all her clumsiness, had tripped him,
causing them both to fall into the snow. He added that she often
fell and took others with her, so it would be wise to watch his
footing throughout the week. And then he winked.

"I should have known," she said before they
parted ways to their rooms.

"But of course, my dear. You know how I love
telling falsehoods."

"Touché."

"Does this mean I win this round?" He brought
her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. His eyes danced with
merriment as he licked his lips.

"Yes."

"Then, I believe we're even. Now change out
of those clothes before you catch a chill. After all, I cannot in
good sport play a game with someone who's ill."

She withdrew her hand and curtsied but not
before rolling her eyes at the handsome man. He paused, focusing on
her lips and then her eyes.

"Minx."

"Rogue."

"I shall see you at dinner."

"You shall."

And again they paused, words left unsaid. But
weren't actions louder than words, for their very actions must have
led everyone to believe that a minute without one another was like
a thousand deaths.

And so, Katherine was the first to turn on
her heel and enter her chambers.

She smiled at the memory of the day then
cursed herself for being so infatuated. All was lost, for he
already had the better part of her heart.

"Please don't break it," she whispered into
the fire and closed her eyes as her chest constricted with that all
too familiar pain of rejection. Benedict never said he wanted her,
and it was clear that Paisley had still thought her a little girl.
Fear squeezed the walls of her throat threatening to close it all
together. Was he toying with her? Or did he truly enjoy their
flirtation? And if he did, was it enough for him to marry her in
earnest?

The flames licked into the air as if mocking
her. The very flames that the Devil Duke was born out of no doubt,
yet a small part of him it seemed was not the man he wanted
everyone to believe he was. The more moments they had together, the
closer she was to understanding the man behind all the rumors.

He was actually fun.

Invigorating.

Beautiful.

She cursed. A decision needed to be made. Her
heart was already lost, her body his. So, it was without pause that
Katherine decided on giving in to the very thing she as most afraid
of. If he denied her, refused to repay her vulnerability with his
own truth, then at least she'd have tried and would have no
regrets, save the absolute horror of falling without the proof that
he would be there to catch her.

Erotic Dinners and the Like

The evening of the
first day of the house party was upon them, and already Benedict
was feeling lost.

A snowball fight? Whatever had he been
thinking? Or her for that matter! Then again, he hadn't remembered
a time since he was a boy that he'd laughed so hard, or felt
freer.

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.