The box at the side of the table was slowly filling with black pieces, only three pawns peeking out between the fallen bodies of his soldiers. His eyebrows knitted together as he concentrated, staring at the board with fierce determination as Marissa grinned at him.
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this, are ye nae?” he muttered, his large hand covering the board.
If I move me rook, she’ll take it. But if I place me bishop to claim her knight, it’ll place me directly in the line of her queen. If she takes it, she’s free to claim me rook. Mayhap she’ll take the bait. And if she does, I’ll be able to claim her queen.
He knew it was risky, but as the tides of the match were swiftly turning against him, it was a risk he was willing to take. Plucking his bishop, he moved it diagonally across the board, claiming her knight just as he intended.
“Of course, I’m enjoyin’ it,” she quipped, cocking her head to the side.
She watched as the white horse’s head was plucked from the board and placed in the wooden box, gleaming brightly atop all the black.
Arthur had expected her to be a little more upset at having just lost a major piece, but she didn’t look the slightest bit bothered. Her brown eyes roved over the board as she contemplated her next move.
But Arthur didn’t look at the board. Not this time. Instead, he used the moment to look at her. Watching the way her face transformed as she thought.
Marissa was chewing on her bottom lip, and need surged through him—the need to lean forward and pull that lip between his teeth. He wondered what her moans would sound like if he did so.
Careful.
Arthur did not want to get himself worked up again. Did not want to be sitting across the table, desiring her, when he knewthat nothing would come of it. Because Marissa would not be begging him to touch her any time soon, even though he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would eventually.
A feral, victorious grin split her face. Arthur didn’t even have time to register what it meant for him in terms of the game as he got lost in the beauty of it.
Her hand darted out, grabbing her queen and thrusting it forward. But not in the direction he’d been expecting. Instead, it flew across an opening that he hadn’t seen, claiming his queen.
His mouth dropped open in surprise, and Marissa’s grin widened even further. She had beaten him, and they both knew it.
“Check,” she said, her eyes dancing with the thrill of a win.
Frantically, Arthur scanned the board, searching for any possible way out, but there was none. Without any other options, he moved his king one slot to the right, just for something to do, even though they both knew the effort was futile.
“Checkmate.” she cried in victory, using her queen to claim his king and knocking it off the board.
Disappointment soured his mood, and he scowled.
“I’ve never been beaten before,” he grumbled.
Arthur had spoken more to himself than to her, but that didn’t stop her from turning her smile on him in its full force.
“Well, now ye have,” she said, gloating.
Arthur’s scowl deepened. “Ye ken there’s such a thing as bein’ a bad winner.”
“Aye.” Marissa chuckled. “And it goes hand in hand with bein’ a bad loser.”
She winked at him, making him roll his eyes. Eventually, silence descended on the pair of them. The only sound in the room was the merry crackling of the fire, but still, they sat, their gazes locked.
“Are ye tired yet?” he asked.
A spark of something flared within him—something he had not felt in quite some time.
It was hope.
Even though he had not won their game of chess, he’d had fun. With a jolt, Arthur realized that he’d had more fun with Marissa during the time they’d been playing chess than he’d had in a while. And he wasn’t ready to see that end just yet.
He kept his gaze fixed on her as she considered his question, chewing on her bottom lip again as she did so. A new feeling flared within him, one he’d been working desperately all night to control.
Lust.
