Eyes wide, she could only shake her head no and pray her blush wasn't as bright as it felt. It would do no good for her mother to know the specifics. Besides, it wasn't as if she wanted her mother to die of an apoplexy.
No, she'd leave the dying to Benedict.
But then again…
Why wouldn't her heart stop fluttering?
"This way." Her father directed them to the box. At least there were only six seats. Enough for her parents, herself, Banbury and…
"The Dowager Duchess of Durbin," the lady introduced herself to her mother and father, then quickly darted her beady eyes in Katherine's direction.
"My dear, you look ever so lovely."
Katherine blushed again, and reached out to grasp the dowager's outstretched hands, leaning in to kiss both of her rouged cheeks.
"Your grace, it has been an age. I've missed you dreadfully."
A cough emanated from near the front of the balcony.
All heads turned in the direction of the interruption.
"Apologies, seems I've come down with a cold." Benedict shrugged and winked at his aunt, whose icy glare caused the group to take a step back.
Benedict didn't seem the least bit affected. "We are so pleased to have you with us this evening." His voice dripped with sarcasm. The man was a conundrum, from his black attire, to the way his eyes scanned each person before him as if studying them.
Katherine cleared her throat and moved to take a seat on the opposite side of the box, but a hand stopped her.
"Katherine," her mother whispered harshly in her ear. "It will look dreadful if you do not sit next to your fiancé. Do not make this worse than it already is."
It could get worse. It could get much worse. For one thing, Benedict could have her skirts lifted merely by crooking his pinky finger.
She was a wanton hussy.
The man had no shame, and no right to be as attractive as he was. Why was it that men who had impossible personalities were gifted with good looks? Should it not be the other way around?
Then again, Paisley was quite handsome and kind and…
You're not marrying Paisley, you nitwit!
"Your grace." Katherine curtsied before taking a seat next to Benedict. The lights soon dimmed, and she found herself in quite an interesting position.
For the close proximity seemed to cause a sensual current between the two of them. His thigh barely brushed hers, but he didn't seem the least bit affected. He crossed his arms and leaned back as if bored. While she, well, she was near trembling.
And then the odious man stretched, just grazing her shoulder as his arm flew above his head. When his hands came down, a finger brushed hers.
This was why they called him the devil. This very reason, for he was able to conjure up nonsensical feelings with a mere touch.
"Tell me." She jumped as his lips barely touched her ear. "What is it you're thinking of? We both know you haven't even glanced at the performance."
"If you must know," she hissed, "I was just wondering where Paisley was located. Your aunt expressed her desire for us to continue our acquaintance."
"Paisley?" he all but spat. "He's engaged, as are you."
"According to you, all I had to do was deny my attraction, and you would cry off."
He shrugged. "I lied. Besides, you're already ruined. The way I see it, I'm doing you a favor merely by sitting with you."
She hated that he was right.
"Does he make you feel… things?"
"Who?"
"Paisley."
"Of course. I feel quite happy when I am near him, which is more than I can say about you."
Benedict chuckled, his finger drawing a slow circle on her arm. "I do not want you to feel happy when you are near me."
"What a dreadful thing to say—"
"I merely want you to feel…" He paused. "…alive."
Any more alive and she would be quite dead from want.
"You cannot force a person to desire you, as you well know," she said haughtily, her voice jumping a few octaves to prove her offense. She refused to look at him and kept her gaze on the performance.
"My dear, who said anything about forcing?" His teeth nipped her ear just as she gasped and the crowd broke out in applause.
The first act was done.
She wasn't so sure she would make it through the rest.
Benedict couldn't see straight, and it had nothing to do with whiskey, but everything to do with the minx sitting next to him.
Had a courtesan dressed her?
By Jove, she looked like… like… His mind was having trouble processing large words, and he struggled to remember to breathe at the same time, And considering he wanted to go on living, thank you very much, he chose not to think of an appropriate word.
"Beautiful," he muttered aloud without thought.
Her head snapped in his direction, which then made his snap back to the stage where the second act would be starting soon.
Well, now he looked like an overeager lad. Splendid.
A commotion ensued to his left a few boxes down.
Paisley.
Katherine flinched at his side. Was he imagining things or was the girl actually trying to slouch further into her seat?
Ridiculous.
"Hiding?" He jerked her upright with one fluid movement.
She glared. "Perhaps."
"It would never work, you know."