Compromising Kessen (15 page)

“Someone has to make sure you play fair.” Nick shrugged and walked off to the protected booth high above the field.

Without warning, a loud whistle attacked Kessen’s ears, making her feel the need to slap whoever had the courage to produce such a loud noise.

“Attention!” Nick shrieked.

Both Duncan and Christian clicked their heels together and saluted Nick. Kessen watched in amazement. They looked like toy soldiers ready for war. Then Nick ran down from his post and painted black camouflage coloring on Duncan’s and Christian’s cheeks.

Kessen’s mouth formed a tight line when he approached her.

“Camo?”

She nodded her head and fought the urge to sneeze as he generously smeared the sticky paint across her face.

“Now for the rules,” Nick said, still using his bellowing voice. He would have made an impeccable announcer.

“I am, as all of you well know, the Paintball Master Director Referee.”

Kessen grunted a laugh then sobered when she saw three serious faces staring her way in irritation.

“As I was saying…” Nick cleared his throat. “I am the Paintball Master Director Referee. You may address me as sir, or master, but my preference is master.”

“I bet,” Kessen muttered.

Nick glared, Christian laughed, and Duncan looked at his pretend watch as if to say, “Are you done yet?”

“The rules are as follows: One, no head shots. Two, once you’ve been hit three times, you must return to the sidelines. And three, may the best man or woman win.” He cleared his throat again. “Are there any wagers you would like to put on the table, Duncan?”

Duncan licked his lips and looked in Kessen’s direction. “If I win, I would like Kessen to kiss Christian.”

“Second,” Christian coughed.

“And I third,” Nick added triumphantly. “Christian, what about you?”

“If I win, Kessen must cook me dinner.”

Duncan chuckled. “You trust her not to poison you?”

“The gentleman has a point,” Nick said.

“Oh, for crying out loud! I wouldn’t poison him!” Kessen snapped.

All three heads pivoted in her direction.

Nick smiled. “Then it’s settled. How about you, Kessen? What is your wager?”

Her back straightened as she took time to glare each one of them in the eyes. “If I win, Nick has to make me dinner, Duncan has to serve me, and Christian has to sing for my entertainment.”

All three of them paled, and then Christian straightened. “She’s a girl. She couldn’t possibly beat us.”

Duncan didn’t look as confident, though, and Nick looked downright dubious.

“When I get to my box, I will blow the whistle. You may then begin,” Nick announced.

Kessen grumbled to herself but made sure her gun was loaded and offered Christian a little salute. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

However, Duncan seemed much more concerned, and as soon as they made eye contact, he began frantically checking his gun and adding extra ammo to his pocket, just in case.

Kessen shot him a knowing nod. He gulped and rushed to hide. It was obvious that Nick had let her little secret slip. The thrill of the hunt beat in her chest as she ran in the direction of the trees.

She chose her hiding spot well, ducking between the two tree stumps that sat in the middle of the course. Naturally, both Christian and Duncan took hiding spots on the outskirts of the field. All appearances pointed to her being a sitting duck.

But what Christian was unaware of, Nick already knew—she was a member of the women’s paintball league in Colorado. Not only were they national champions at one point, but they had also beaten another team: Nick’s team of friends not three weeks earlier.

One of the guys even cried.

Kessen remembered giving him a large pat on the back and telling him he couldn’t win them all. Granted, he wasn’t crying from losing, he was crying because she accidently shot him where no man should be shot. But it was his fault for not paying attention. Hopefully, he’ll still be able to have children.

Lying down on the grass, she waited for the whistle. As soon as it sounded, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Duncan was approaching using stealth-like speed. He was trying to army crawl, but was failing miserably when it came to hiding behind the rocks. He looked petrified, making Kessen wonder if Christian had pressured him into playing. Most players could only shoot their guns with their dominant hand, whereas Kessen could shoot with right or left and have impeccable aim. She laughed as she watched him lift his gun over his own head in warning and scoot closer to the middle.

Quickly Kessen crawled to the opposing rock next to the stump and waited. Her plan was working perfectly. Christian, still out of sight, was most likely watching Duncan to see what to do next. The thing she immediately noticed about Duncan was, he had no game plan; he wasn’t that type of player. He was only focused on the goal, which was to hit her. She hadn’t seen him poke his head up for a while, so she decided to taunt him.

She shot directly off the left side of the rock, aiming for what would be his shooting hand. Unfortunately for Duncan, that was the one time he reached out with his gun to see where she was sitting. The paintball was a direct hit onto his forearm. She heard him curse and bit her lip to keep from laughing.

It offered the distraction she needed to hightail it to the next tree and duck. Off the left side of the field, she saw Christian approaching. Poor Duncan, he was trying to give hand signals. She shook her head and shot again.

“Just give it up, Duncan!” she yelled.

He swore again and threw a nasty glare in her general direction. Nick called over the loudspeaker, “Duncan, you’ve been hit twice. One more time, and you’re out.”

“I can bloody well count!” he called back.

Kessen couldn’t help but laugh. She threw a rock in Duncan’s direction, making him duck without realizing his butt was hanging past the tree. She laughed as she took careful aim and shot her gun, hitting him directly on target. He wouldn’t be able to sit for the next three days.

Wincing in pain and throwing his gun at the tree, he struggled to pull down his pants, revealing designer boxer briefs.

“Son of a—”

“Language!” Kessen yelled from her well-concealed hiding place.

He scowled in the direction of her voice and made an inappropriate hand gesture.

It was just she and Christian, and he was going down.

****

Christian was a lot of things. He was a future duke, for one thing—a great businessman, and some people did call him a womanizer, but that was a long time ago. One thing he had never been called was a pansy; however, at this moment in his life, he truly wanted to run away.

The woman just shot a near stranger in the bum and laughed.

She laughed! He sent up a quick prayer before army-crawling to the giant rock in front of him. Obviously she had no shame. What was she? Some sort of paintball professional? He would never be able to make that good of a shot as far away as he was. How did she do it?

Like he needed to ask. She was a woman of many talents, including the French kissing. And thank you, Nick, for that. The lessons had paid off!

Christian should have given Duncan a hand instead of laughing, but the poor bloke pulled down his pants. The welt was the size of England. It took everything in Christian not to give in to fear. But how could he? Kessen was a woman—how much harm could she do?

Another look at the limping Duncan told him she could do quite a bit more damage than any man could.

Swearing under his breath, Christian stealthily crawled closer to Kessen. She had hidden behind a tree and hadn’t moved in awhile. Not a peep was heard on her side of the field. The sneak attack seemed his best option. Slipping the long way around the bushes to the backside of the tree where she would be hiding, he almost laughed to himself at her apparent careless stupidity. It was almost too easy.

And then it hit him.

It was too easy—that was the point. He had made it clear across the field and behind her hiding place without her knowing. Kessen was too good not to be aware of his movements—it was then he heard a cocking paintball gun behind him.

An interminable string of expletives poured from his lips, which would have made any woman blush. Instead, she shot him.

Three times.

In the back.

He bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry. But who could blame him if he did? After all, she was shooting at point-blank range. What type of man cried after his fiancée shot him with a paintball gun?

In order to cover his impending tears, he glared at her with watery eyes and felt like strangling the woman smugly grinning back. “Who are you?” he accused her through clenched teeth.

She blew the top of her gun as if it were smoking, then answered, “National Paintball Champion 2011, sucker. Oh, and Christian?”

He spun back to face her.

“I suggest you wear a costume for tonight’s entertainments.”

He kicked a rock, sending it sailing through the air, and tried heartily not to wince as he limped back to the tower.

Nick’s voice boomed across the field. “Christian, you’ve been hit at point blank three times. Our winner is Kessen!”

Kessen then proceeded to throw her gun in the air while singing, “I am the champion, my friend! And I’ll keep on fighting till the end.” Her gun then turned into an air guitar she played expertly, which made him assume it would also be a poor idea to challenge her to a Guitar Hero tournament.

Duncan was lying on his stomach with an ice pack on his backside, while Nick was helping Christian peel off his shirt, so he could take a look at the already rapidly expanding welts on his back.

Kessen dropped her air guitar when his shirt was completely off.

“What? You’ve never seen a man so fit before?” Christian teased.

Only her eyes held concern.

“Christian, I’m so sorry!”

His pride stung a little when she didn’t comment on his body. Women always commented … apparently not women like Kessen.

“You have a giant welt!” She put her hands over her mouth, covering a smile.

He cursed when Duncan touched it. “Are you happy now, Kessen? If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask for a rematch.”

She let out a snort. “How very brave of you, Christian. I’ll keep that in mind when your bruises finally heal.”

“Hold me back, Nick. I’m going to strike a woman.”

Duncan piped up. “Don’t upset the beast; she’ll make it worse. Leave her be. For the love of all that is holy, leave her be!”

“Are you crying?” Kessen asked mockingly.

“No.” Duncan sniffed. “I just have dirt in my eyes.”

Nick snickered. “Both of them?”

Duncan groaned. “I won’t sit for weeks.”

“Well, I believe my rib is broken,” Christian interjected. “Thanks to Kessen.”

“Sorry I didn’t warn you. I don’t think you would have believed me anyway,” she said, approaching him cautiously. How was it fair she had escaped unscathed?

“Mark my words, Kessen. I will find a game you’re terrible at, and then we’ll see who’s sorry.” Christian winced again as Nick applied a salve.

Kessen licked her lips and suddenly Christian forgot about the pain. He wanted to consume her, and God help him, he wanted her even with camouflage paint all over her face. Closing his eyes did nothing to erase the image of her from his mind. When he opened them again, she was standing directly in front of him, so close he could smell the mint gum she had been chewing.

He gulped.

She reached up and laid a single finger on his lips. “Don’t forget, you’re mine tonight. Don’t be late.”

His mouth dropped open as she sauntered off. He couldn’t help but stare at her perfect form. Swearing again, he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Close your mouth, Christian,” Duncan said, pushing himself painfully up from the ground. “It looks like we have an evening for Kessen planned, eh blokes?”

It was Nick’s turn to swear, Christian’s turn to wince, and Duncan’s turn to lean on both of them as they hobbled back to the house.

Chapter Eighteen

It took Christian at least an hour to get changed out of his clothes, a result of his battle wounds, no doubt. Every time he moved his arms, he felt another stab of pain all the way down his back. It wouldn’t surprise him if his entire back was black and blue. Who shot someone at point-blank range anyway? “Of all the heartless, menacing…” he mumbled to himself, then heard a throat clear.

“Ah, the inevitable interruption,” he said turning. “Oh, it’s you.”

Kessen smirked. “Yes, I was just delivering your costume.”

Christian decided speaking was out of the question, considering his current vocabulary was made up entirely of four-letter words.

She handed him a bag and smiled. “Open it.”

“Is anything going to attack me?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or will a bomb explode in my face?”

She laughed heartily. “No, nothing like that. Be a man and open the bag.” Her hands were on her hips in ultimate challenge style.

A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled open the brown bag. Inside was an I heart New York t-shirt, a ballerina skirt, and a tiara.

“What in the—?” he started to say then clamped his mouth shut. “Costume?” he repeated again.

She nodded emphatically. “Oh yes! You see, my part of the bet was, you would be the entertainment. Now that you have your costume, I will address the songs I would like you to hum.”

“Hum?” he asked.

“Yes, hum. I don’t like singing as much as I like humming.”

He felt his fists clench. “I’ve never struck a woman, but Kessen, I’m warning you…”

A sheet of music was thrust into his face, followed by a snickering laugh. “Christian, all’s fair in love and war.”

He took it and she left. It was then he noticed she was wearing the most delicate-looking red dress he had ever seen, complete with matching high heels. He immediately started sweating and taking off his clothes at the same time.

If she wanted a ballerina, she was going to get a ballerina.

****

Kessen was enjoying the night’s festivities. The table was decorated with splendor; somehow Nick had even managed to light the candles without setting the entire house on fire—something she commented on earlier, which received a snort from Nick and a laugh from Duncan. They decided they would both cook and serve, leaving her alone with her entertainment for the night.