She settled onto the nearby chair. “Ensuring,” she said with quiet warning, “that you follow through.”
“I have given my word.”
“You have.”
Trying to conceal the pain his movements caused, Thomas scowled as he lay back, and then lowered his lids. After a long moment he peered out.
She’d moved to the hearth and was adding several pieces of wood. Sparks spiraled within the flames, illuminating her soft curves with unsettling clarity. His body hardened, and he cursed.
Her brow furrowed, Alesone turned. “Are you in pain?”
“Nay. I am too restless to sleep.”
“Restless,” she asked with soft accusation, “or in discomfort?”
Nae wanting to linger on a topic that would only remind him of his growing need for her, Thomas glanced around the chamber, paused on the chessboard. “Do you know the game?”
Sadness flickered in her eyes as she walked over, picked up the queen with reverence. “Aye, ’twas Grisel’s favorite.”
“We dinna have to play,” he said quietly.
She replaced the piece, then carried the game to the bed and placed the chessboard and carved wooden figures between them. “’Twill bring back fond memories. For fun we made up stakes the loser paid after each move.”
“Stakes?” he asked, unsure what to make of such. “Such as?”
She gave a soft laugh. “Naught for anything of great importance. Who would prepare the next meal, an errand, or”—her eyes twinkled with mirth—“the telling of a secret.”
Unsure if he liked the direction their impromptu game was heading, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was share more about himself with her. Already they had too much in common.
“Dinna tell me that you question your skill against a simple woman?”
He grunted. After witnessing her proficiency with a bow, her sharp wit, and her bravery, there was naught simple about the lass.
“The secret you shareifyou lose a chess piece is nae the deep soul-searching kind,” she teased, “but uncomplicated and a wee bit of fun.” She arched a playful brow. “You do know how to have fun, do you nae?”
He grunted. “I have heard ’tis overrated.”
A smile curved her mouth, and he found that he enjoyed having put it there. Nor with the grief she’d endured over the past few weeks would he steal her bit of happiness. John was here, had been tended to, and was expected to recover. For now there was little more that he could do.
Neither would he share that chess was one of the many games he loved, challenges he had won many times over. “Go on with your game then. Lasses first.”
Mock surprise widened her eyes. “A gentleman.” She moved her pawn.
After a moment’s deliberation, Thomas countered.
Several moves later, she slipped her carved wooden figure on the square to his right as she lifted his man. “Knight takes rook. You owe me asecret.”
Her playful whisper slid over him like a caress, and awareness slammed through him. Bloody hell, ’twas naught but a bit of foolishness! He smothered his body’s demands, forced his mind to safer ground. A simple secret, how hard could that be?
“When I was a lad,” Thomas said, welcoming the memory, one he hadna recalled in many years, “during the night I snuck down to the great room. My oldest brother, Donnchadh, had left a pair of his boots near the hearth to dry. While he slept, I filled the bottoms with cow dung,” he said with a smile. “The next morning I awoke to him bellowing his outrage from a floor below.”
Alesone laughed. “What did you do?”
His smile widened. “I decided ’twas prudent to sleep in a wee bit longer.”
Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Did he ever find out you were the culprit?”
“Nay. If he had, he would have sought revenge, and”—he shook his head—“siblings are a spiteful, brutal bunch.”
