Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(16)

“Vandenbrook?” she said, a little higher pitched this time.

“Time to go!” he announced, grabbing her hand for another dance.

“Wha—?” Kessen’s vocabulary was slowly deteriorating.

“America, I had no idea you could be so eloquent. Tell me, is it my title, my fortune, my good looks, or my ability to save you from this disastrous event which is the reason for your inability to speak?”

She didn’t answer. She glared. He loved it. She continued to glare throughout the entire dance. He would die a happy man, if a girl would treat him like he was the scum of the earth. How he tired of women who were constantly trying to impress him.

Kessen Newberry didn’t care about him. In fact, she probably despised him, which ironically put him in an even more cheerful mood—which he didn’t think possible.

Looking into her eyes meant he might actually start to like her, so he attempted to grin at those staring at him from around the room. “Kessen, you should stop glaring at me. People will think we hate each other.”

“They’ll be correct,” she seethed, though her expression was flawlessly beautiful and lit up in quite an enchanting forced smile.

“Was that so difficult?” he murmured against her ear, sending irritating shivers down his own spine.

She let out a fake laugh. “You have no idea how much I loathe you.”

“The line between love and hate is very thin, America.”

She clenched his hand tightly. “I want to cause you bodily harm.”

He grunted. “Spoken like a true American woman. Tell me, do you ever stop thinking and analyzing and talking long enough to just be?”

“Be what?”

“Just be. I don’t know—exactly what you were created for, to just enjoy the moment.”

She sighed. “If you want me to tell you I enjoy dancing with you, you can just say so.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think I need you to tell me anything. Your body says it all.” He felt his smile deepen as the crimson crept all the way down her neck.

Her arm pulled possessively around his neck as she leaned in and whispered, “I despise you.”

“Like I said before, hate and love are divided by a very fine line.” He leaned in close enough to kiss her, then panicked when he realized that was exactly what he wanted to do. Her mouth was enough to distract anyone with two eyes. It was held in a tight little pout, which just begged to be opened.

He shook the thoughts from his head and abruptly turned away. Thoughts like that had no place in his mind right now. He needed to be concentrating on work, his impending marriage, anything rather than the beautiful creature dancing with him. She would be nothing but trouble anyway. Newberrys were notorious for their opinionated family members, and from meeting her, he could tell she was already forming many opinions of her own about him and the rest of London.

And who hates London, of all places? Of course, he hadn’t actually helped the situation much, since he verbally ostracized her for ordering coffee instead of tea, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so cocky and ignorant.

He twirled her around once more and kissed her hand. “Until we meet again, America,” he said while bowing deeply in front of her.

Kessen’s chest was rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon. He knew she wasn’t out of shape. One could tell she worked out on a daily basis with the way her dress was hugging her. No, she was furious—at him. If he didn’t fix this, she was going to make a fool of herself in front of everyone, and her grandmother would suffer the consequences.

He suppressed a smirk before grabbing her hand and tucking it again into his own. “How about another walk?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

“There’s a shock,” she grumbled, yet followed him outside to the gardens again.

“Not that I’m one for scolding,” he volunteered. “I feel the need to remind you that you have a reputation to uphold as a Newberry. Your grandmother is exceedingly proud of you, though I can’t see the many reasons why. You should try to conceal your emotions better. You Americans have always struggled with wearing your hearts on your sleeves.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny. According to you, I don’t have a heart.” Her head tilted to the side, adding to the sarcasm, but also making her neck look like the most graceful thing Christian had seen in years. Her skin was just the right amount of tan against the moon. He found himself holding his hand back so he wouldn’t reach out to touch her skin.

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.