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Meaning… he resorted to trickery.

Not one of his finer moments.

She didn't even fight him.

Which, according to his drunken haze, told
him she desired him as much as he desired her, which according to
his calculations, also meant she would be receptive to his
kiss.

She wasn't.

Instead, she pushed against his chest and
kicked until, with a curse, he pulled away.

"What the devil was that for?"

"You pompous, arrogant, son of a—"

His hand covered her mouth before she made a
fool of herself by insulting a peer of the realm, one who ranked
higher than she, if only by a tiny hair.

"Cease from speaking, you insulting wench."
Well, he could have said that better. He blamed the whiskey, and
those wretched twins. What were their names again? Anthony and
Ambrose, something? Why the devil had they kept pouring that
whiskey? Terrible idea to begin with. He needed a clear mind, not
one muddled with alcohol.

He shook his head.

Katherine slapped him, offering her
assistance no doubt.

"Well, that was helpful, my thanks." He
scowled and touched his cheek where he carried a painful mark of
her assault.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?"
Katherine's nostrils flared. He didn't need to be sober to know she
was upset, but he did need to be sober to be able to concentrate on
her face rather than the swell of her breasts.

Damn, but she had nice breasts. He had a
brief vision of freeing them from that ridiculous dress, tasting
them, exploring them, a pinch here, a lick there.

"Benedict!" she screamed his Christian name
quite loudly. Why the hell had she done that? Had she no care for
the foxed?

"Stop yelling!" he yelled.

"Why did you kidnap me like that? I'm
completely and utterly ruined now! My parents are probably already
announcing our engagement, elated that I left with you! Oh, this is
so horrible!" She sat back against the cushions and punched the
seat with her hand.

"Yes well, I obviously hadn't thought that
through very well," he admitted touching a hand yet again to his
throbbing face.

"You don't say," she mocked.

"Now see here." His head felt much clearer
when he was enraged, funny that. "We will marry and that is
that."

"Hours ago, you wanted to murder me, and now
you want to marry me?"

"Yes, well no, I'm not sure."

"I feel so desired, la, I'm going to be a
puddle at your feet if you keep speaking to me with such delicate
words and phrases."

"You don't want to marry me," he stated
boldly. "You've told your parents and my aunt, though you
grudgingly admitted to allowing me two weeks to court you."

"I thought it a kindness." She smiled
sweetly.

Minx.
"No, you thought to inflict more
torture on my person. But not again, I will not be ruined and then
jilted out of a proposal."

"Pardon?" She leaned forward.

"You heard me, I was quite ruined
tonight."

"What?"

"Ah, so she lacks intelligence as well as
hearing?" Benedict grinned at his brilliance. "You ruined me, not
the other way around. It was you on top of me, and you who clumsily
fell into my carriage; all it would take is one word from me to
your family and you'd be stuck with me."

Katherine folded her arms across her chest,
giving him another lovely view he wouldn't mind staring at for the
remainder of the evening. "Smarter when you're foxed, hmm?"

His eyes darted back up to her face. He
really needed to stop getting so distracted. "I'm always smarter,
and don't you forget it. The way I see things is you have no choice
but to marry me. But never fear. I will allow you to earn the right
to choose and court me as you see fit."

"Me?" Katherine laughed. "Court you? A man?
How much whiskey did you consume?"

Not near enough, not near enough. Blazes, her
smile was beautiful. Why was it so blasted hot in that carriage? He
cleared his throat. "I'll call upon you tomorrow, and you may court
me as you see fit."

"Or else?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Or else I'll ruin you even more than you're
ruined at this very moment. You won't be accepted anywhere, and my
slip of a cousin will be sorry he ever danced with you.

A defeated look washed across her features as
her eyebrows drew together and her mouth gaped open. "I know what
you're doing."

He sure hoped not.

"You, you!" She pointed at him and pounded
the cushion again. Poor, sad, little cushion seat. "You mean to
make it look like it's my fault when the engagement doesn't work!
You mean to salvage your pride, you hateful man!"

He sneered. "But of course. It works for the
both of us. Your parents see that you truly tried to make it work,
you put forth such a gallant effort. And in the end, when it still
isn't enough to win over the most infamous duke of the
ton
,
they'll nurse your broken heart, and you will be free to do
whatever you like."

"But—" She chewed her lower lip. What he
wouldn't give to be that lip.

Plump.

Red, with just a hint of pink in the
middle.

Wet.

Hell, her lips looked wet didn't they? One
tiny taste would satisfy any sort of curiosity, now wouldn't
it?

Water, he needed some sort of water to get
rid of his foxed state. He was starting to feel… sentimental.

"But I'll still be ruined, won't I?"

"Of course." He grinned. What did he care if
she was ruined? He'd already planned on ruining her, ravishing her,
and then leaving. That was to be her punishment for all the torture
she'd put him through, and she was more than deserving. He would
enjoy every single second.

She took a deep breath and cursed — quite
impressively for a young lady — ending with, "You're the
devil."

"So I've been told, love. So I've been told."
He picked up her hand, though she tried to keep it at her side, and
bestowed a kiss across her knuckles. "And always at your service
should you need to make another deal with the devil." With a wink,
he pulled back, chuckling.

The devil is in the details

Katherine narrowed her
eyes
at the man. Surely he was the devil himself! The
injustice of it all. By all appearances it would look — well, it
would look like she was besotted with the man, and then when it
would be time for them to announce their betrothal, there would be
no betrothal to announce. Her parents would be livid, she would
still be utterly ruined, and Benedict would get away scot free,
Devil Duke reputation intact, and if anything, even more famous
throughout the
ton
!

But worse of all, her heart dropped as her
mind played the truth over and over again in her head. The Duke of
Paisley would be out of reach, for even if he wasn't already
betrothed to Lady Anastasia, what would he possibly want with a
ruined girl?

So, it was in that moment, when she looked at
the choices laid out before her, that she became selfish and
impulsive. If no one was to have her, if love would never be her
destiny, perhaps she could make the duke's life a living, waking,
hellish nightmare. For it was his fault that this was all coming to
pass.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, grinning and
leaning forward to receive a kiss, no doubt.

"Oh, because." She gave him her most coy look
and blinked her eyes, resting them finally on his lips as her
eyelashes fluttered. She looked back up, into his piercing
gaze.

Eyes dilated, his gaze was ravenous, dark,
sensual. She gulped and leaned forward. His lips met hers in a
frenzy. She reciprocated, allowing herself one moment of weakness
before biting his bottom lip, hoping she would draw blood.

"Damn it! What the bloody hell was that
for?"

"Ruining my happiness, that's what," she
spat. "It seems we have two weeks to become acquainted. Get your
beauty rest, for you'll need it."

He cursed again as the carriage came to a
halt in front of her house. "Oh, and Banbury?" She stepped out of
the carriage and turned. "Consider yourself warned. I never back
down without a fight."

"Been nearly killed four times to prove that
very true statement," he muttered begrudgingly.

"Exactly. Good day, your grace." She winked
and walked into the house.

Not typically one to throw any sort of
tantrum, Katherine stomped up the stairs and quietly closed her
bedroom door, all the while forcing her mind to forget the feel of
the devil's lips as they'd caressed her own.

Why was he nicknamed the Devil Duke anyway?
Granted, he leaned toward rakish tendencies and did have a slight
obsession with horse racing, but didn't all fashionable young
gentleman?

The way things looked tonight, the men of
London were drinking whiskey as if it was going out of style and
slapping one another on the back as if being a man was such a
brilliant privilege that they needed to keep congratulating one
another on their sex.

Katherine knew she needed to get her rest,
for tomorrow would be the most trying day of all. At dawn, she had
to begin courting the devil himself, and every able-minded person
in London would sit back and watch the entertainments, for she
would be the first woman to ever gain a proposal from the duke.

Knock, knock,
knock.

Benedict lifted his pounding head, rising
slowly from the warmth of his bed. The knocks began anew.

He cursed.

"I know you're in there!" the voice
boomed.

His stomach rolled and clenched as a giant
unseen hand seemed to squeeze his chest like a vise.

Agatha.

Well, now it was final. She was
singlehandedly trying to kill him. Had she no respect for the
inebriated and half dead? He blinked several times and rubbed his
eyes just as the door burst open. Agatha entered with Percy, his
irritated valet, in tow.

"How could you?" she screamed again affirming
his earlier assumption that she was planning his demise.

"How could I, what?"

"Be such a man!"

He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or
horrified that his aunt had accused him of such. He looked down to
make sure at least half of his body was covered and sighed in
relief that it was.

"Did you want me to be a woman?"

Percy coughed.

Agatha narrowed her gaze. "Your very presence
irritates me."

Benedict sighed. "So it seems. I take it this
is the reason for your intrusion? My offensive sex and irritating
presence. Pray, if I offend you so, why don't you simply
leave?"

She snorted and stomped her heel onto Percy's
foot.

Eyes wide, Percy clenched his teeth and
slowly lifted his eyes heavenward.

God does not hear our pleas my friend,
believe me, I've tried
, Benedict thought.

"You are not listening to me!" Agatha
yelled.

Any louder and his head might explode. Then
again, if he died, he wouldn't have to listen to Agatha screeching
anymore.

"Apologies, you were saying something about
irritation and my offending sex?"

"You've made a horrible mess of everything!
Do you even know what people are saying? It's all over the gossip
rags. Oh, my heavens. You've done some terrible things, Benedict,
but this is truly worthy of a prize!" She thrust a paper in his
face and lifted a handkerchief to her eyes.

Benedict took the paper and scowled.

It was Mrs. Peabody's blasted gossip rag.
Everyone read it. He would be lying if he said this was his first
offense, the chit clearly had it out for him. With an exaggerated
sigh, he read the words:

This should come as no shock to the rest of
you. This author, however, was utterly appalled. To think! The
Devil Duke ruining an innocent, and at the holiday's first ball!
Shamefully, I was beginning to think rumors of this dark duke's
demeanor were merely exaggerated. Now I believe we can all see
firsthand what type of man he is.

For a man who not only ruins a woman in
front of his own flesh and blood, but has the audacity to capture
her and enclose her within the confines of his carriage
sans
chaperone
, can only be one thing. A devil in disguise. This
author only hopes that the matriarch of that particular family will
do something before the devil does more damage. La, I have it on
good authority that it would take the fires of hell licking at his
heels before the duke would say yes to an engagement. In case you
were keeping track, dear readers, this brings a grand total of ten
ruined debutantes over the course of three years. This author
shudders to think of the disgrace heaped on both families. Well, it
is positively not done! If he is given more invitations for the
holidays, this author may eat her quill!