The Devil Duke Takes a Bride

by Rachel Van Dyken

  She sighed and lay back down on the bed.

  He walked cautiously to the other side, not bothering to take off his boots, for that would be the beginning of the end. As far as his body was concerned, taking his boots off while lying next to a beautiful woman meant he was about to take off the rest of his clothes.

  And he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop with his boots.

  Hilarious that the Devil Duke would need to keep his boots on in order to keep his lust in check.

  “Sleep.” He kissed her forehead, but she reached up and pulled his head closer to hers, opening her mouth to him.

  He should have run.

  He should have escaped when he had the chance.

  He should have said no.

  Hang honor, hang it all.

  His lips crushed hers, Benedict’s hands grasped her wrists pinning her to the bed as he nipped her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth.

  She moaned.

  He cursed then straddled her because at the time it seemed the only option, not that it was intelligent by any stretch of the imagination.

  Her body fit perfectly underneath him. Of course it would. He tugged at her bodice, pulling it down to her waist.

  And then froze.

  Time stood still.

  He hated he was using such clichés in his mind, yet time did seem to stand still as he glimpsed her.

  Bewildered that he was able to think beyond pleasuring her, he slowly pulled her bodice back up and kissed her gently across her lips.

  “I’m going to give you more.”

  “What?” Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. “You don’t want to…”

  “I want to give you the moon.” He kissed her cheek. “I want to give, not take.”

  She nodded.

  “Kate, you are far too special, and I fear it would be over before it began, for I find I’m having trouble controlling myself at this moment.”

  She smiled and touched his face with her hand.

  “Goodnight, my sweet.”

  “Goodnight,” she mumbled then turned to her side and closed her eyes.

  ****

  To say that Benedict had a good night’s sleep would have been a grotesque lie straight from the pit of Hades.

  He did not, in fact, have a good night, nor did he sleep.

  Oh, he was prone to exaggeration, this much was true, but when his valet came into the room to help him dress, he was already sitting in front of the fire, twiddling his thumbs, or if he was being completely honest with himself, thinking of Katherine.

  “Your grace?” His valet’s eyes were so incredibly wide it was amusing, except for the fact that Benedict was grumpy and tired, and truth be told, slightly aroused, even still. God save him.

  “Well, let’s get on with it,” Benedict snapped. When he looked in the mirror he nearly burst out laughing, apparently insanity was a close friend whilst running on little to no sleep. But he couldn’t help himself.

  “You’re drunk then?” It was a statement from his otherwise stiff-necked valet. No doubt he was used to seeing Benedict at his worst.

  But that’s what kept making him laugh. He had stayed up all night, thinking about one woman. He wasn’t out with his mistresses, nor was he at the gambling hells. He was simply sitting in a chair, and he looked like he had just spent the night in the worst parts of London.

  “No,” he answered. “I’m not drunk, but I will admit to being slightly unstable, in the emotional sort of way, so if you’ll be quick about your duties. I have a woman to attend to.”

  “Always do.”

  “What was that?” Benedict snapped.

  “Good for you.” His valet smiled cheekily and patted his back smoothing out the lines of the coat. “It is the best I can do in your drunken state, your grace.”

  “Again, I’m not drunk.”

  “If you say so.”

  Benedict pointed to the door. His valet lifted up his hands in mock fear and walked out. That was the problem having the best valet money could buy — he could afford to have an attitude.

  Benedict clapped his hands together and nearly ran out the door, tumbling right into a woman.

  “Apologies, I…”

  Katherine looked up with bright eyes and a shy smile. “Benedict.” Her chest heaved though he knew it couldn’t possibly be exertion.

  “How did you sleep?” she asked.

  “Like a baby,” he lied and offered his arm. “So, what shall we do today?”

  “Well,” Katherine blushed just slightly, the color bringing a rosy hue to her delicate cheekbones. “I thought perhaps we could have a snowball fight.”

  “In public?” He placed a hand over his chest and pretended to be offended. “My dear, dukes do not run around in public throwing snowballs. I don’t know what anyone has told you about me but…”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “But, good sir, I was under the impression that dukes can do anything!”

  “If only.” Lust pounded in his veins, he clenched his fists as he watched her eyes dilate and lips part. “Perhaps we better join the others.”

  “Perhaps.” The minx winked and reached for his arm.

  ****

  One fort, three snowball fights, all of which she lost, and two meals later, and Katherine was utterly exhausted. It took everything within her not to take a nap before dinner.

  Once dinner was finished, she could barely keep her eyes open. But she didn’t want to miss a thing. Benedict had been called back to Town that evening on business, so he was ordering servants around in order to rush back in time. Though he needn’t meet with his solicitor until morning, he apparently wanted to get a head start, which was a tad frustrating for Katherine, but she didn’t mind. She’d follow a few hours later and would soon be in London, waiting to marry the man she used to despise.

  Lord Marks cleared his throat. “I thought a few games of whist would revive some of you after this day’s festivities. You will find several tables set up in the purple salon as well as sherry and port. Please, enjoy your final night here.”

  A loud thumping was heard, but it couldn’t have been Agatha, ever since the ice-skating she had taken to her room feigning illness, or in Benedict’s words, just biding her time until she snapped at one of them again.

  The thumping continued, until finally Katherine turned around. Lord Marks was hitting his cane on the corner of his boot.

  The rest of the dinner party had left, leaving them alone.

  “May I ask a favor of you, Lady Katherine?”

  “Of course.”

  He leaned forward. “I appreciate what his grace and you have done in respect to the Duke of Paisley and my daughter. I was wondering if you won’t give me one more boon before everyone leaves?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “My daughter, she is very competitive. Why don’t we arrange for you and Baldwyn to sit near one another, perhaps be partners in a few games. I think it might be the very thing to get her to admit her feelings. I believe as a father I’m resorting to jealousy to get my daughter to become vulnerable. I hope I do not live to regret it.”

  Katherine smiled. “You won’t, and I’ll do my best.”

  Which she did.

  Three hours later, she and Paisley were laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her chair, and it was all because he could not play the game to save his life. He was awful. Terrible more like it.

  Lady Anastasia was never without wine in her hand, and after a while Katherine became a little more than nervous that Lady Anastasia was going to topple over. Instead, her face became redder by the minute until finally she had an outburst.

  “The two of you are rather cozy. And where is the Duke of Banbury at present, Lady Katherine?” Lady Anastasia coolly eyed Paisley as well as Katherine, a bitter smile spreading across her lips.

  Unfortunately everyone was privy to her little speech.

  Causing the game to stop.

  And Paisley to grow pale.

 
“You know well, Lady Anastasia, that my fiancé has retired early.” Katherine kept her gaze level on Anastasia, hoping to convey the message for her to stop making a scene in front of everyone and embarrassing poor Paisley, for it was evident that he cared for her so. But the women continued to talk.

  “How fortunate for Paisley.”

  Katherine gasped, then quickly offered her apologies and went in search of Benedict, for she hadn’t meant to hurt Lady Anastasia’s feelings, at least not in that way. She had only hoped to spur the girl on as Lord Marks had suggested. The wine did not prove helpful, that much was sure.

  She ran up the stairs to Benedict’s chambers, nearly out of breath when she knocked on his door.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Man’s Shame

  Knock, Knock, Knock.

  Benedict went to the door to open it, but the person on the other side was obviously in a losing battle with patience, it swung wide nearly hitting him in the face.

  “Should have known,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry,” Katherine said. “May we leave now?”

  “In the evening?” Benedict scowled. “I meant to leave first thing in the morning. Do you think you can practice patience until then?”

  She bit her lip and crossed her arms.

  “What happened?”

  “Hmm?” She gave him an innocent look, much like a cat hiding a mouse under its paw.

  “What happened?” he repeated, grasping her crossed arms and pulling her closer into his embrace.

  “Lady Anastasia drank too much, yelled at me, made me feel a fool, and now I just want to go home.”

  Was she crying?

  “See? That wasn’t too hard.” He lifted her quivering chin and kissed a fallen tear. “We’ll leave immediately.”

  Within a half hour, they were in the carriage on their way back into London.

  “Now.” Benedict patted Katherine’s hand. “Tell me what is really going on in that little head.”

  Katherine smiled. “Well, you see. I think Anastasia loves your cousin desperately, and she accused me of flirting with him, which is ridiculous. He was my partner in cards, nothing more.”

  Benedict fought the surge of jealousy.

  “It doesn’t matter. She yelled and was quite embarrassed and left the room. Paisley went after her, and I just figured it would be better if we were not at the house. That way, he cannot go looking for you when he gets afraid of the woman, and she cannot spend time apologizing to me.” She proceeded to tell him about her and Lord Marks’ agreement.

  “My dear, are you matchmaking?”

  She looked at her hands.

  “You and Agatha truly should not live in the same city, you do know that?”

  “I love her.”

  “Who?”

  Katherine sighed. “Agatha. I think she’s brilliant.”

  “Yes, but you also trip over your own feet and show your knees in public.”

  “Very funny.” Katherine made a face and raised her voice. “But truthfully, she’s lovely!”

  “Keep your voice down. She’ll hear you!” Benedict all but shouted.

  “In the carriage? But she’s at the house. She’s been sleeping for an entire day!”

  “She has her ways.” Benedict outwardly shuddered. “Now, let us have some rest before I deliver you to your home.”

  Seconds after saying those very words the carriage jerked to a halt. Benedict peered through the window looking for the reason, and then a rap was heard at the door.

  He opened it. “Problem?”

  “Your grace, a wheel is stuck. It seems the snow is too deep, and we need to go back, but it’s at least a two mile walk back up the drive, and in this weather…” The footman shuddered. “I think it best that you and the lady stay here in the safety of the carriage.”

  Benedict wasn’t sure exactly how safe she would be in the carriage with him, but he didn’t say it aloud. Instead he thought quite hard about their situation, waiting in the carriage meant they would still be freezing by the time his footman made it back. Even if they did take the horses.

  His eyes scanned the road ahead of him, then back toward the house.

  “There.” He pointed. “What’s that?”

  “The hunting cabin?” the footman asked. “It’s for tenants and those who like to hunt on the countryside. I dare say there may be some wood to build a fire.”

  “Right.” Benedict hopped out of the carriage and held out his hand to Katherine. “We’re to go on a little jaunt.”

  “A jaunt?” she repeated, teeth chattering.

  “Yes, or adventure. Would you rather I use the word adventure? How about if I say it’s a Christmas adventure, hmm?”

  Katherine’s eyes narrowed.

  “No? Alright.” He placed her arm within his and trudged with her through the snow. “I thought rather than freezing to death in that carriage, that we would build a fire in that lovely looking cabin over yonder.”

  “That?” she repeated, dread filling her voice. “It looks haunted.”

  “It’s nothing of the sort,” he assured her. “It’s merely dark, besides things aren’t allowed to be haunted during the holiday season.”

  “Says who?”

  “I say, and I’m a duke, so the ghosts have to listen.”

  “Arrogance, arrogance.” She laughed, but followed him to the cabin, within minutes they were inside. He helped Katherine to a chair and searched for wood.

  Fortunately, the moonlight mixed with the set of matches he had acquired the night before, while smoking cheroots with the gentlemen, helped shed enough light that he was able to locate where the wood was hiding.

  Soon, he had a roaring fire, and was thankful to feel heat begin to radiate from the hearth.

  He motioned for Katherine to sit near him by the fireplace.

  It was a tiny hunting lodge, nothing to boast about truly. It held one small bed in the corner, a table in the middle of the room, and two sitting chairs in front of the fire. No stove to speak of and no food.

  Pity, for his stomach needed sustenance.

  As if on cue, it growled.

  Katherine smirked. “Hungry?”

  “Only for you,” he teased, though the sudden plummet in his stomach should have hinted him toward the truth of those very words.

  They were alone, very alone.

  He should have laughed at their circumstances, was he not merely days ago planning on fully ruining the girl in hopes that she would cry off? And the day after finally giving up and realizing how deeply he cared for her, he found himself completely alone with the girl.

  His conscience fought an epic inner battle as his eyes continued to rake over her with a mixture of desire and interest.

  “When will we marry?” Katherine asked, breaking the silence.

  Benedict wasn’t sure what the correct answer was to be. After all, weddings were sort of a sacred ritual to women. They were cause for great joy, weeping, insanity… so he needed to tread carefully. “When would you like to marry?”

  “Oh, you mean it?” She clasped her hands together in excitement allowing him to exhale with relief.

  “Of course.” His chest puffed, just slightly.

  “Tomorrow, let’s marry tomorrow.”

  “Pardon?” He coughed.

  “Tomorrow,” she said slower and reached out to touch his arm. “I’m already ruined. We both know I don’t need any sort of fanfare. After all, the ton has seen my knees, have they not?

  Benedict chuckled.

  “I know we wanted to wait until after the Kringle Ball, but I truly cannot wait to start our lives. Don’t you agree?”

  He suddenly felt very, very hot, and deuced uncomfortable, and the innocent look in her eyes haunted him.

  “Er, yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “To think! In just a few hours, I’ll be able to move into your house, and we’ll be able to…” She blushed profusely and looked at her hands.

  “Be able to?” He
leaned forward and lifted one eyebrow in question.

  “You know…”

  “No, I truly don’t.”

  Her look was incredulous. “Benedict!”

  “Katherine.”

  She scowled. “We’ll be able to really be together.”

  “Like we are now?” He played innocent. Gads how he loved the way she became so easily flustered. Her cheeks took on the most beautiful shade of pink, tempting his tongue to caress the spot right below her jaw where the pink met ivory skin.

  “No, not like we are now.” Her little bum shifted in the chair.

  He leaned even closer, placing both hands on either side of the chair until his face was so near, he could hear her shallow breaths. “You mean like this?” His hands reached out to touch her neck and then moved down her shoulders, her arms, and finally to her legs. With little effort, he lifted her into his arms showing her how to wrap herself around him, and just held her there as he placed long lingering kisses on her neck and face.

  “Y-yes… Oh, heavens yes, like this.” Her head fell back exposing her throat.

  Careful, his inner voice warned him. Take it slow.

  But he was never one to listen to his good conscience.

  So he laid her across the dusty bed and hovered over her, watching her squirm and sigh beneath his touch.

  “Benedict.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “Yes, love?”

  “Will your servants like me?”

  What an odd question. And dreadful timing considering his hand was already placed halfway up her creamy thigh.

  He kept his arousal in check and tried to answer the question, mentally going through every person in his employ.

  And then his body went cold.

  Maria.

  Suddenly, he was disgusted with himself. Withdrawing his hand from the pleasure of her leg, he leaned back on the bed and shuddered.

  “What is it?” Katherine asked.

  “It’s just that…” Benedict couldn’t even look her in the eyes his shame was so great. “I had forgotten about some business at the house, business I need to attend to before I welcome you with open arms.”

  “Oh.” She looked down.

  “But…” he interjected. “It won’t take long. Before you know it, you’ll be the mistress of the house.” He gulped against the bile that rose in his throat at the use of the word mistress. Could he have not come up with a better description? She was so much better than that.