Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(22)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

She let out a moan and closed her eyes.

Chapter Twelve

Christian felt like he had just been run over by a train repeatedly, and it had nothing to do with alcohol sickness. Actually, he would welcome any sort of liquor which would push thoughts of Kessen from the forefront of his mind.

Alas, that was not going to happen. His fingers still burned where he’d touched her skin. And her hair—oh, for the love of all that was holy and good—her hair was like sunshine and incredibly silky and soft. In all actuality, he could very happily just marry that beautiful head of hair and be done with it.

What was he thinking? Marry her hair? Who thought things like that?

His sanity was slowly declining ever since their first meeting; he hated to think about what would happen once they were married, and he could take … certain liberties. Certain liberties? His thoughts were nearing impure, when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said gruffly. It was late and he needed sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was think about certain liberties with Kessen before dozing off. No doubt she would torture him in his dreams as well.

He was just beginning to bang his head against the wall when he heard a male chuckle behind him.

“Ah, Duncan, how good of you to come by and see how I am faring.”

“You’re a bloody mess.” Duncan eyed Christian’s wet clothing and disheveled look. He also wisely covered up his laugh with a cough. “Is, uh, everything well?”

Christian contemplated throwing a shoe at his head. If anything, it would erase that smug grin from his face. “Fine,” he said, teeth grinding.

“Ah … how was the cottage?”

Christian refused to make eye contact but felt his face growing hot. “It was perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” Even he was impressed by the evenness of his voice.

“You don’t seem to be in such a good mood. Perhaps I should return in the morning, when I’m not worried you’ll strike me with a blunt object, eh?”

“Out with it.” Christian groaned, half wanting to hear what he had to say, the other half wanting to find the suggested blunt object and throw it.

Duncan seemed hesitant, and then pulled out a manila envelope from his coat.

“Why do I feel like we’re doing some sort of drug deal?” Christian muttered.

“Careful what you wish for. I’m sure you’d rather it be drugs.”

“That can’t be good,” Christian said.

“I didn’t say it was bad.”

“What is it, then?”

Duncan cleared his throat and handed him the envelope. “Somehow we messed up on the security in the cottage; these were taken when you two arrived.”

Christian felt his face growing hot as he opened up the envelope. Picture after picture fluttered to the floor of him and Kessen kissing, embracing, fighting. It was like something out of the movies. Something very, very bad. She was going to be livid.

“Who has access to these?” Christian’s eyes darted to Duncan’s.

Duncan licked his lips before answering. “Everyone.”

“How?” Christian growled.

“Christian, what do you expect? We live in a technologically savvy world. Someone took the pictures, or hid a camera, and the pictures were leaked online.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “This made page six in New York. Page six! Have you any idea what kind of press that is?”

“Duncan, I don’t care what kind of press it is! It’s our lives, our private lives, and this makes Kessen … well, it makes her look like—”

“An American sl—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Christian warned.

“Well, it’s what our papers are saying.”

Christian sighed; it wasn’t fair her name was being dragged through the mud, especially because it was mainly his lack of self-control which got them into this position in the first place. “I thought everyone loved her.”

Duncan shrugged. “She’s still American.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Christian snapped.

“You know as well as I do how people feel about foreigners marrying into our aristocratic circles. They may love her because she’s famous, but they don’t have to like the fact the most eligible bachelor of the century is marrying someone who has been living in the mountains of Colorado all her life.”

“She’s a blue blood!” he yelled.

Duncan took a step back, putting his hands up in surrender. “Half blue blood. Her mother was American. What’s wrong with you, Christian? You know I like her, all right? I think she’s perfect for you. I’m just trying to get you to understand what the people are thinking. It’s the best press we’ve had in years for Newberry and Co., and honestly, it’s better for your family name that you’re caught up in this whirlwind romance. People are sick of the Vandenbrooks ripping hearts out of every blue-blooded family in this hemisphere. But you should also know it’s not going to be an easy road. These pictures have gone worldwide.”

“Obviously,” he muttered, putting his hands over his head. He felt a headache coming on. He needed to see Kessen … to warn her. “Have you talked with her grandmother or Kessen herself?”

“I was going to leave it to you,” Duncan said dryly.

Christian looked up to the ceiling. “Of course you were. Right. Well, I’ll figure it out in the morning. Call their butler and make sure he doesn’t show any of the morning papers to the family until I arrive.”

Duncan pulled out a recorder and pressed play. “Do you have a statement for the press, Lord Vandenbrook?”

Christian closed his eyes. “I’m appalled at the lack of privacy the press has given Miss Newberry and myself. In the future, if there are any questions about our relationship, we will be happy to sit down to an interview or a press conference when the CEO and founder of Newberry and Company arrives in London. Until then, please continue to respect our privacy, as we are in the critical part of our wedding planning. Thank you.”

Duncan pressed stop and smiled. “Very politically correct.”

“Out!” Christian snapped, pointing at the door.

Duncan laughed and sauntered out. “Do you mind if I keep the pictures?” he yelled.

“Burn them. And don’t you dare look at them or show them to anyone else.”

Duncan was still laughing as he went down the hall. “Nice moves, by the way.”