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She grinned, and focused back at the stage.
"What's happening?"

He didn't move during the entire act as his
lips spoke delicately into her ear translating each movement, each
song, as if it was his second nature. When she gasped and began
laughing, he laughed with her, his body steel behind her.

The curtains closed for intermission, leaving
them once again in utter darkness.

"We should return," Katherine whispered.
"Surely, they will start to worry about us being alone for so
long."

"Do you truly think it could get any worse?"
he joked.

Katherine stifled a laugh. "Well, considering
most of the
ton
saw my skirts up past my knees…"

"Glorious looking knees, by the way. I would
love to see them again," he interrupted.

"I thought you were unconscious."

"Perhaps I stole a peek."

"Rogue."

"Always."

Katherine shivered as his body left hers. She
rubbed her arms at the sudden chill. What in the world was wrong
with her?

The white of Benedict's gloves was visible in
the darkened box. His hand slowly moved in front of him and then
reached for the back of her head.

All was lost.

For she went willingly and quite wantonly
into his arms. Not at all sure if it was he who had made the first
move or she, and not caring even if she was the guilty party.

His lips parted, a hungry moan escaped them
as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. A yearning shot through
her at his erotic kiss, causing her hands to clench and tug at his
hair. His mouth was hot and sweet, demanding in its pursuit.

Logic had nothing to do with the way she
arched her back into his embrace, allowing easier access, and then
when his hands began purposefully caressing down her chest, she was
again lost. Sensations she never knew possible caused her knees to
weaken.

Benedict nipped at her neck, and then cursed.
"I cannot ruin you at an opera…"

She kissed him hard across the mouth.

"Devil take me… I so desperately want to
try," he mumbled as he nibbled on her lower lip. "I doubt you would
thank me come tomorrow morning, nor would you be ecstatic to face
your parents once they see you completely disgraced."

She stiffened and retreated.

"Good choice," he uttered, mumbling another
oath before taking an unsteady breath. "Hell, what the devil is
wrong with me?"

Was he speaking rhetorically?

He cursed again, this time kicking something.
"I cannot be walking around like some besotted fool, my aunt will
have me by my b—" He coughed. "My neck, she'll have me by the neck,
and I'll never hear the end of it."

"Your grace," Katherine spoke up.

But he was truly having a one-sided
conversation, so he continued in justifying his actions. "It's your
fault! If you were not a woman…"

Katherine snorted. "Would you rather I be a
man?"

"No!" he sputtered. "No, no, no, no. Heavens,
no."

"I believe you." She covered her laugh.

Was he pacing? She could see movement but
wasn't sure if he was pacing or merely throwing his fist in the air
repeatedly.

"I know!"

She had an idea this was not going to end up
being an intelligent end to their conversation.

"Hit me."

"Pardon?" she choked.

"Hit me, or trip me, anything really. I need
to be reminded how utterly wrong you are for me, so that when I
have moments of weakness — and don't deny it, I've had quite a few
as of late — I remember that we will not suit, we cannot suit."

"So your answer is violence?" she asked.

"Precisely. After all, you've threatened my
life four times before, why not add a fifth"

"Why not?" Katherine felt anger rise in her
chest. The absolute cad! He would rather she strike him down than
admit any sort of attraction?

Fine. He would get exactly what he asked
for.

"It will be an honor, your grace." With that,
she brought her fist back and landed a blow across his eye that
would have done her father quite proud.

If Only Women were Allowed at Gentleman
Jackson's…

To his utter shame
and complete humiliation, Benedict took at least five minutes to
regain consciousness. At least he suspected as much based on the
expectant hush that had fallen over the theatre whil waiting for
the second act. He refused to entertain the thought that it could
have been longer. Being a man, it just wouldn't be kind.

The throbbing on his cheek and around the
tender flesh of his eye screamed in protest as he gently touched
the area where Katherine had hit him.

Clearly, she didn't need to be told twice to
inflict pain. Though, to be fair, he had expected she would merely
give him a light pat across the shoulder or mayhap even kick him in
the shin.

Not, to his great humiliation, give such a
remarkable punch that he was rendered senseless for longer than
he'd care to admit. Were they allowing women at Jackson's these
days? He needed to stop underestimating the chit, his nemesis, his
future wife. Bitter pill to swallow, that.

Breath whistled through his teeth as he set
himself to rights and checked his body for any other sort of
bruising. Naturally, he wouldn't put it past her to give a good
kick after she sent him sailing to the ground.

Although sore, nothing else seemed worse for
the wear, but he did have a sneaking suspicion he looked as if he
had been on the wrong end of an opening door. With one final oath
for good measure, he took another soothing breath and made his way
back to the box.

Thankfully, everything was still blanketed in
black. Unfortunately for him, he had the devil's own luck, so it
wasn't all that surprising that the minute his booted foot stepped
into his box, the stage lights came to life as the second act
began.

And he, the wounded, was no longer in
darkness.

Rather blinded by the spectacle in front of
him. His eyes focused on the stage and then to his horror, Agatha.
Of course the witch was laughing.

"What the devil happened to you?" Agatha said
between giggles. At least have a care for the company! What were
they to think when she was not even a trifle concerned for his
welfare!

"I took a stumble," he lied. His eyes quickly
darted to Katherine.

The minx coughed. "And where pray tell did
you stumble, your grace? Dare I ask the condition of the object
that ran into your face?" She lifted her hand innocently to touch
her cheek and winked. Not a blasted hair out of place. Gloves
pristine.

He suddenly had a very vivid image of his
hands shaking her tiny little body until she apologized.

Then again, he couldn't very well have her
apologize for something he'd told her to do.

Stupidity seemed to blare in front of his
eyes like a bloody sign.

"Benedict!" Agatha scolded. "Really! To leave
Lady Katherine all by herself! Heavens! The poor dear was lost for
near an hour while you were out fighting imaginary dragons!"

"I was attacked!" he shouted, bringing quite
a lot of attention to their box. He swore and quickly took a seat
so nobody would be the wiser to his bruise.

"Attacked?" Agatha's eyes narrowed. "Seconds
ago you were most unfortunate to allow your clumsiness to get the
best of you, and now you were accosted? By what, a child? A
door?"

Katherine snorted behind her hand but kept
her eyes dancing with amusement. Lord and Lady Kerrington were
staring at him as if he had just sprouted an extra head near his
ear.

"Well?" Agatha prodded.

"Both." He closed his eyes. "It was both. You
see, I was trying to find Lady Katherine amidst the crowds—"

"—there were no crowds, Benedict, we were all
seated."

"You did not let me finish!" He shifted in
his seat. "The crowds of er… air."
Cough, cough.
"You see,
the air was quite crowded with… dust, lots of dust, and you know I
am sensitive to dust, Aunt."

"Indeed."

At his silence she leaned in. "Oh, do go on,
I believe your tale has just trumped my interest in the opera."

Lord Kerrington nodded his head in agreement.
All eyes on him. He scratched nervously at his neck and cleared his
throat. "As I said, the air was crowded with—"

"—dust, yes you've said that already,"
Katherine piped up cheerfully.

"Right." He clenched his teeth. "And by the
time I was able to set myself to right and go in search of
Katherine, who surely must have been confused because of all the…"
He choked on his lie.

"Dust," they said in unison.

"Yes, dust," he said emphatically. "I
wandered into a darkened corner, many of those in the theatre, you
know, and promptly took a stumble. My eyes had not yet adjusted to
the dust-free area."

Devil take him, he truly was the worst liar
that had ever lived. Plain and simple. Didn't help one bit that he
was sweating through his jacket, nor that his aunt seemed to get
more agitated by the minute.

Benedict leaned forward hoping to gain the
attention of everyone and end this mortifying night. "I heard a
scream."

"No!" Lady Kerrington gasped.

He smiled cheerfully. "Why yes, and I being
the strong, courageous…"

"—Don't forget dust sensitive," Katherine
piped up again.

"Dust sensitive," he ground out. "Ahem… man
that I am, I went in search of the damsel. I'm happy to announce I
made it just in time to save the woman in distress no worse for the
wear!"

Odd nobody was clapping. Should he not be
honored for his bravery, fake though it may be?

Agatha chuckled. "Interesting. For Katherine
said both of you were merely lost and in a moment of panic she
accidently hit you in the face because she thought she saw a
rat."

"But," Benedict sputtered. "You asked…"

"Bravo!" Lord Kerrington slapped Benedict
hard on the back. "Your Grace, my daughter was just regaling us
with your ability to tell stories. I say, jolly good one! My dear,"
he looked to Katherine. "You were right. He does possess a certain
talent. Thank you for allowing us to see it firsthand."

"Of course." She winked at Benedict and
crossed her arms.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Ah yes, I do enjoy
telling falsehoods in order to entertain others."

"Good man, good sense of humor, good man."
Lord Kerrington was still chuckling.

Benedict scooted closer to Katherine and
grasped her hand hard within his.

She squeaked but otherwise made no
movement.

"I have half a mind to strangle you." He felt
his jaw clench in frustration.

"But, your grace?" Katherine turned her deep
blue eyes toward him and whispered, "Then you would no longer be
able to kiss me, and you do enjoy that, don't you?"

Before he could speak, she shushed him. "No,
no, you've had quite the ordeal tonight, your grace. Pray, do not
exert yourself any further. Besides, you've kissed a woman, lived
through a fight and apparently a terrible bout with dust. You
deserve your rest. Just remember this one thing."

"What's that?" Curse his voice for being
hoarse with need.

"This round goes to me."

"Minx."

"Rogue."

"Flirt."

"Devil."

He sighed. "Agreed. I have been bested."

"Why, your grace!" Her eyelashes fluttered.
He couldn't take his eyes away from her face if he wanted to. "How
sporting of you."

And then, the woman, the very same one who
had threatened his life so many years before, managed the
impossible.

She didn't sneak, but rather stomped right
into his heart, threatening something much more dangerous than his
life.

His absolute and utter devotion.

Devil take him, he'd be shocked if he lasted
the two weeks without his heart, soul, life, and everything else he
possessed on a platter before the girl.

The whole idea that she could enter into his
life so quickly and steal his very small heart made him deuced
uncomfortable. She was more than a pretty face, and despite his
desire to bed her, he found himself wanting to wed her. Perhaps he
was going mad? It may be the only explanation as to why he
continued to stop himself from fully ruining her, from making her
his. Though his body ached with need, for the first time in his
life, he was putting another human being ahead of himself. It was
such an odd feeling that he found he almost needed to sit before
his knees buckled beneath him sending him to the floor.

What was this foreign feeling? Would it ever
go away? Or was the only cure the very same girl that both provoked
and inflamed him?

He wasn't going to
last a week.

Then again, she wasn't sure
she
was
going to last the carriage ride home. The man was altogether too
large to fit in that stifling carriage.