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“Who are you, Prue?”
Clearly, he was seeing a side of her he had never imagined. With luck, it would be a side of her he found compelling. With as provocative a smile as she could manage, she tossed her head and answered cheekily, “I’m your wife.”
She finished arranging the chess pieces on the board, giving him the honor of playing white. To his credit, he didn’t insist they turn the board, but moved one of his pawns two spaces.
Prue assessed the move, trying to anticipate his possible strategies. Never having played with him before, she was all but playing blind. It was thrilling. She freed her knight from the back row but left her finger on the horse’s head while deciding whether to commit to the move. When she lifted her finger, he moved another pawn. So it went as they set up their initial plays. A few more swallows of whisky and her confidence came naturally. As she took one of his pawns with her knight, she said in a casual voice, “If I win this match, I’ll expect a boon.”
He chuckled. “I must admit, I never played chess in quite that way before.”
She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “You’ve never made a wager on a game?”
The smile that stretched his lips was almost boyish. At her invitation, he had unknotted the cravat from his throat and the starched cloth now hung to either side of his neck. He still wore his jacket, however, more’s the pity. “Never with chess. I’m curious, what boon would you ask?” He lifted the tumbler to his lips.
She met his gaze boldly. Without a hint of flirtation, she told him, “If I win, I’ll expect you to give me a proper kiss. Proper enough for my toes to curl.”
He choked on his sip of whisky. The color tinging his cheeks might have been due to the whisky going down the wrong way, or perhaps she’d managed to scandalize him. She was, however, utterly serious. As he set his whisky glass next to hers, where it wouldn’t be tipped over accidentally, she chose to prove herself. On impulse, she leaned forward and licked away a drop of whisky on his lower lip. The flesh was soft, but she didn’t linger. As she pulled back, he seemed frozen in place.
A wide smile tantalized on her mouth, but she feigned sincerity as she teased, “Oh, dear. You look as though you cannot breathe, husband. Should I call for a physician?”
He scowled and bit off two words. “No need.”
Turning his attention back to the chessboard, he made a more aggressive move and didn’t mention her proposed wager. Nor did he ask for something in return. But she had only to look at the fall of his breeches to see that she had had some effect on him. Pretend otherwise as he might, her husband wanted her.
Inwardly she crowed in triumph while moving another piece. His strategy was brilliant, and she pondered on a play for several minutes before making a move.
“Who taught you, Oscar?”
She was silently startled at how sensual his name sounded as it fell from her mouth.
“My father. I was a lad of six years when I snuck into his study and climbed under his desk while he worked. My nursemaid went in there, and she asked the earl if he had seen me, for she had looked everywhere.”
“Why were you hiding?”
“I wanted to avoid bath time.”
Prue smiled. “Were you naked?”
“Distressingly so.”
She laughed. “I cannot imagine it. You seem so frightfully proper now.”
“Ah, I can be a right devil. I’m afraid it started then.”
Prue made a decisive move that had him canting his head to study the board for an intense moment. “Smart,” he praised. “Very smart.”
His warm praise filled her belly with a thousand butterflies.
He made his move and, to Prue’s delight, continued with the story. “I pinched my father on the leg, and he looked down and saw me. He had been so engrossed in his ledgers he was surprised to see me there. He played along with my mischief. Denied seeing me and wondered what mischief his naked son might be up to. I think the nursemaid caught on, for she stopped searching for me.”
“And you spent the time in his office learning to play chess naked?” she demanded incredulously.
“My father was a man of immeasurable patience, and he saw the humor in life and his son’s antics.”
“He sounds like a man to be admired.”
“Yes, and I wish you could have met him.”
“I would have liked meeting him. Thank you for sharing the memory.”
