He shook himself as he returned to the task at hand. “And now it is my turn to ask a question.”
“Technically you already have asked a question, but I will be benevolent and allow you another.” She inclined her head, mischief dancing in her eyes once more.
“How gracious of you.”
“You will find that I am rather a gracious person.”
“Very well. What books have you read recently?” he asked as he moved a pawn.
“A little of this, a little of that.” She replied, frowning slightly before she made her own move.
Luke raised an eyebrow at her. “That is hardly an answer.”
There was a faint flush to her cheeks, and Luke thought he saw a tension in her shoulders but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. “Very well, in truth I have not read much of anything recently. I have only heard snippets of things read aloud at parties.”
“Why?” he asked.
“That is another question, and it is my turn.” She countered.
“Fine. Ask your question.” He gestured to her.
“What is it you enjoy about chess?” she asked.
“I like the strategy. But more than that, I enjoy the way in which there are so many possibilities and yet there is always a better move to make.” He paused, drumming his fingers against his lips as he tried to articulate what it was that drew him to the game. “For me, it is less about winning, and more the beauty of the game itself.”
“Then you would not mind if you lost?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he heard genuine curiosity in her voice.
“Not if I lost to a game played beautifully. I do not think I am as competitive as you are.” He smiled at her.
“I am not competitive.” She pouted.
“Are you not?” He gave her a frank look.
She looked away and tucked the same errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, maybe a little. What would be a beautiful game?”
“I believe that is three questions, Miss Pembleton. And now it is my turn.” Luke grinned, and moved his queen to take her bishop.
“Very well.” Miss Pembleton tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes closed as if trying to remember something.
“Why have you not read anything recently?” he asked, watching her as he did so.
She hesitated a moment, and her voice seemed clipped as she said, “I have been doing other things. Honing my skills and such. I have been embroidering a lot, and will have my maid read to me on occasion as my hands are busy.”
“And what has she read to you?” Luke frowned.
“Well it is important I find books that are of an acceptable level, so nothing I suspect that you would enjoy.”
“Perhaps I will surprise you.”
“Just the occasional novels.”
“Novels? And do you have a favourite author?” Luke watched as she studied the board again, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Not especially. For me it is more about the story than any particular story teller.” Miss Pembleton answered.
“And what do you think makes a good story?” Luke glanced back at the board.
“Something that holds someone’s interest. And now I believe it is my turn to ask you a question. Check, by the way.” She leaned back, gesturing to the move she had suggested to him earlier.
