“Where are we?” she asked when they stopped. “It looks like a tiny cottage.”
“So observant,” Christian muttered. “Americans have such a knack for stating the absolute obvious, as if they are the only creatures to have noticed something of which everyone else is already painfully aware…”
Kessen heard him scolding, but drowned him out as they sauntered to the house. It was like a storybook come to life. In fact, it was exactly where she would have imagined Snow White had lived with her seven dwarf friends. She shot a sidelong glance at Christian and had to laugh. Right. Him a dwarf—that was like calling herself quiet and feeble-minded.
He unlocked the door and let her inside.
And then they were alone.
Completely alone.
Something akin to panic jolted her when she realized she was going to be trapped in this cozy little house for God knew how long, with the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.
Normally, in books, a woman swooned and prattled on about protecting her virtue.
Was it wrong that she was contemplating throwing her virtue at him?
How could she even think of it at a time like this? She was a good girl, a good girl! Maybe she should repeat that to herself over and over again.
Christian, not knowing her inner monologue, put his hand on her back and led her to the large sitting room where there was a fireplace.
“We are going to play cards,” he said, feigning excitement.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Cards?” He couldn’t be serious.
He nodded his head and shrugged.
“Do you think it’s, uh—” She turned away, so he couldn’t see her slowly reddening face “Do you think it’s smart to—”
“C’mon, Kessen. Spit it out,” he urged, approaching her.
“Be alone?” she said in a tiny voice.
Christian pulled her hat off gingerly and smoothed her hair. “You aren’t afraid … are you, America?”
The fight hadn’t left her; she snatched her hat out of his hands, put it on her head and challenged, “Afraid? Of you? Please. Nothing about British people scares me.”
Christian raised an eyebrow. “You are going to explain that, aren’t you?”
Kessen shrugged. “You can’t even curse without sounding polite.”
He laughed.
“I mean it!” she said loudly. “Whenever I hear my own father curse—which is rare, by the way—I have to cough to cover my laughter!”
“Damn,” he said, obviously testing the waters.
She laughed; she couldn’t help it.
He ventured another one, challenging her resolve.
And then she lost it. It didn’t even sound like a dirty word! It sounded like … well, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t something that sounded bad.
Chapter Ten
Was she mad? Who insulted a man like that? And who provoked a man to find as many dirty words as he could, just so he could keep her from laughing or make her blush? It was the most bizarre conversation he had ever experienced. He also loved every second of it.
“Fornication?” he tried, lifting an eyebrow in her direction.
“Better,” she agreed. “But still, it’s just so … British.”
“By all means, show me how an American curses then.” He lifted his arm in a gesture as if to say, “After you.”
“Oh, I don’t curse.”
Christian laughed. “Never?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve even slipped before.”
“I think you’re lying. It’s impossible a girl like you has never used a curse word. I won’t believe it.”
She threw her arms in the air. “It’s true. I swear.”
“So, you do swear then?” he teased triumphantly.
“I dislike you.”
“Don’t be cruel; it’s not polite.” He knocked her hat off her head once more.
She clenched her hands into tiny fists and glowered at him viciously. “Would you stop doing that?”
“If you want me to stop, then you shouldn’t keep putting it back on.”
She thought about it, and then mumbled, “Point taken.”
“I knew we’d see eye to eye one day.”
She threw the hat in his direction. “When Hell freezes over.”
“And I rest my case.” He folded his arms and sighed. “You’re just too easy.”
“That’s what she said,” Kessen teased, then put her hands over her mouth, and bit her lip.
He roared with laughter. “Oh,Kessen! We have a brilliant day ahead of us.”
She moaned, and with great reluctance grabbed her hat from the floor and tossed it onto the couch. Her hair was already a lost cause anyway.
“Is it truly real?”
“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you … again.” Kessen rolled her eyes.
“What? I’m merely curious. It is beautiful, you know.” Christian had moved in front of her and was fingering her hair as if it was the most delicate thing on the planet. “It’s so soft,” he murmured, lifting it to his lips.
They heard a knock on the door, and the spell was broken. Faster than lightning they separated as a man in a dark suit strode in and nodded. “Everything to your exact specifications, my lord; we will return for you after dark.”
“I feel like a small child who was just dropped off at the movies by her mom via the minivan,” Kessen lamented, looking directly at Christian.
He shook the man’s hand and closed the door. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a conversation with you which wasn’t cut with sarcasm.”
Obviously he wasn’t used to her American humor. Pity. “I would like to point out,” she insisted, “you aren’t the best at being serious yourself.”
“I can be serious,” he argued.
“No, I don’t believe you can. I think you wish you could, but it’s like the cursing. You think you can do something, but you just can’t.”
“Nemo.”
“Why are you calling me Nemo?” Kessen asked.
“How do you not know the line in that movie? The Disney movie? Finding Nemo?”
Kessen played dumb.
“The movie with the little fish and the tiny fin? And it’s swimming around?” Christian proceeds to bend his elbow as if he has no hand and starts flailing his hand as if he’s swimming. It was the most priceless thing she’d seen in years … until he started to sing the song. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”