He turned around again and swallowed, regaining his lost composure. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Finally something we agree on,” she interjected.
He sighed.
She laughed.
And then he touched her.
He shouldn’t have; he knew it was a bad idea, but he had forgotten his place, and she had stepped directly in front of him. Did she think he was made of steel? He was a red-blooded male after all, and what normal man wouldn’t take this opportunity?
****
He was touching her. Why was he touching her? Worse, why did she like it? His hands no longer had gloves on them as they reached around her neck and stilled. It was as if he were trying to see how big her neck was, which was not romantic at all, except for the fact his eyes were dark as the night sky when he looked into hers. The heat from his hands sent waves of pleasure all the way down to her toes.
She inwardly cursed, for her mind and body had betrayed her. She tried to pull away, but found her legs wouldn’t respond to the message her brain was relaying to them. Instead, she waited for him to say something, but he seemed frozen in place, as if their very touch froze a moment in time for only the two of them to enjoy.
She jumped when she heard a rustling in the bushes. A small white bunny hopped a few feet away, breaking the spell and making her realize how stupid she had been. Hook, line, and sinker, she fell for his trick. His touch nearly undid her. Her head whipped back to his, and before she had time to think about it, her hand met his cheek with passionate intensity.
“What’s wrong with you? You can’t just go about trying to seduce people in gardens! It’s not—done,” she stammered.
He opened his mouth to respond, but she interrupted again.
“And don’t think just because you have this silly little archaic title I would even consider looking twice at you. I don’t care who you are or what you do. I will not be manipulated or taken advantage of. I’m smart!” She continued rambling, only this time she was pacing in front of him. “And I know you think I’m just some stupid American, but I graduated from Harvard and Yale. And yes, okay, so maybe I read romance novels, but I also read the Wall Street Journal. I was voted most likely to succeed, and at the age of twenty, I had already made enough investments on my own to retire, for crying out loud!” Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel the blood draining from them.
“And—” She lifted up a finger to add to her already well-made point, but his mouth was already crushing down onto hers, leaving her breathless and angry and too confused to do anything except kiss him back.
And kiss him back she did. Her hands went possessively through his chestnut hair. She tugged at the little strands and felt his kiss deepen as she did so. Gasps for air were heard from both, but neither of them stopped the scandalous embrace. What was more surprising was she was enjoying this kiss more than any kiss before. Apparently, it was the one thing British men were good at.
His tongue tasted her lips then dipped inside her mouth, teasing every sense she possessed. Her body was on fire. Whatever he had awakened in her—it felt good. It wasn’t until moments later they finally broke apart, and it wasn’t because either of them wanted to stop.
No. It was because someone had cleared a throat.
Kessen was too mortified to even look. Christian, however, looked beyond pleased with himself, making her want to slap the smug grin directly off of him. He turned to face the person standing at the door and paled immediately.
Chapter Seven
Kessen’s curiosity got the best of her, and she slowly moved her head to where Christian was looking. It appeared the night could in fact get worse, when she realized her own grandmother was standing at the door with an older gentleman at her side.
“Love,” she said evenly, “I would like you to meet the current Duke of Albany, William Vandenbrook.”
Christian cursed under his breath then disclosed, “My father.”
“Swell,” she croaked.
Now if her life were a book, which it obviously was not, this would be the point in the book where the grandmother would be outraged and tell both guilty parties it was time for them to get married. News would spread throughout the ton until everyone knew their shame, and she would become the future Duchess of Albany, all the while falling in love with her betrothed and thanking her lucky stars for making her follow him out into the garden.
If her life were a book. But it was not, which meant she could smile through this awkward situation and eat her body weight in chocolate later tonight, when she remembered how embarrassing it was to be caught making out by one’s grandmother.
Grandmother had an odd look on her face—almost as if she had just trapped Kessen into something—but for crying out loud, it was 2012 What could they possibly do?
And then a camera went off.
And another.
And another.
Until Kessen was absolutely blinded by flashes of lights. She tried to keep a straight face as paparazzi began pouring out of the bushes. Sure, it had been a bunny rabbit, but the rabbit had been scared off for other reasons entirely. The media had been parked just outside waiting for something like this to happen. And they had heard every word.
Panicked, she looked to Christian, who seemed equally as alarmed. He looked to his father for an explanation, but his father looked to her grandmother, and—wait a second… Did they just shake hands?
****
“You have got to be kidding me!” Kessen wailed towards the ceiling. She had her hand raised above her head as if God was punishing her, which in hindsight He probably was. After all, she was making out shamelessly in the gardens. Is kissing so bad? Huh, God? Is it? Can’t a girl have a little fun on vacation?
The answer was a resounding no.
Christian hadn’t said a word since their discovery. Security guards shooed the paparazzi away, but the damage had already been done. The worst part was Christian’s dad had just that night made an announcement that his son was to be married by the end of the year.
The timing could not be any worse.
All signs pointed to the sudden arrival of Lord Newberry’s daughter. It was a match made in aristocratic heaven. Sure her blood wasn’t as blue as most Vandenbrooks would have liked, a comment made earlier by the duke himself, but she was still an heiress, after all. The Newberry money would propel the Vandenbrooks and the Newberrys into the highest of social circles—not that they weren’t already dangerously close … plus the press would have a field day.
Just think—a Brit born in America, coming home to her beloved country to marry the heir to the dukedom. How romantic.