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How would she respond?
She moved her knight to protect her king and counter an attack from his rook. She wasn’t ready to lose, but would she mount a counterattack?
“Minerva, do you love me?”
“You have not placed me in check. Why should I answer?”
“Because I need to know before I make my next move.”
“Yes. I love you no matter how much I try not to.”
Anthony smiled. He would make it his mission to make her happy and to feel loved. He picked up his rook and took her pawn, placing him one step closer to his goal.
Minerva frowned at the board and moved a pawn forward, neither an offensive nor a defensive move.
Drake looked closer at the board. Three more moves and he’d be the winner. Attempting not to appear too eager, he moved his bishop into place. As he expected, Minerva moved her rook to protect her pawn and make room for her king to escape.
He flicked a glance to Kent, who was deep in conversation with his wife. He wanted Kent’s blessing one more time, but the man was distracted.
“I see you have finally decided to be the aggressor,” Minerva said.
“Does it suit?” He moved his king, which was simply to distract Minerva back to the pieces at the top of the board and away fromherking.
Minerva moved her bishop into place, on the defense, just as he had hoped. “I’m not certain. Although I will admit that I am enjoying your pursuit.”
He assigned their conversation as the reason why Minerva had fallen into his trap. By sacrificing his bishop, he had entrapped her.
As soon as Minerva moved her knight and had captured his bishop, she saw her mistake.
He gave her one more out. “No one is paying any attention to us. Shall we declare a stalemate?”
Minerva surveyed the guests with a quick glance. “Not a chance.” With a slight shake of the head and a frown, she studied the board and said, “I can’t believe… How did… Where did I…” She blinked with each pause as if reassessing each of her most recent moves. Minerva sat back and with bright, clear eyes, said, “You win.”
“Is it that incredible?”
She shrugged. “Do you really wish to marry me?”
“Yes, of course I want to marry you.” Why was she stubbornly refusing to accept his suit? “I don’t understand your lack of faith in me… Why is it that you do not believe I love you, that I need you, that I desire you and only you?”
Minerva picked up his discarded queen and twirled it between her fingers. “It’s not me that you fantasize about at night, is it? It’s Madame Rose, isn’t it?”
“No.” He leaned forward and pleaded with his eyes for her to look at him. “I shouldn’t have left you alone the other day. I should have stayed and convinced you to marry me then.” He waited for her to raise her hazel eyes from the fallen chess pieces. Once she did, he continued, “I know all too well how facts can become muddled if one is left with only their own thoughts for too long. You are not accustomed to solitary life. I promise you, it is you whom I dream about day and night. I’m not lying when I tell you I want you. I love you.”
Her shoulders remained tense. She still didn’t believe him, but rather than giving up, Anthony pushed on.
“I admit, two years ago I was enraptured by the attentions of Madame Rose. I won’t deny I wanted to bed you then, but perhaps on some level, I knew—I knew you and Madame Rose were one and the same. I let my fears of disappointing Kent and the possibility of killing you prevent me from showing you how I truly felt about you for too long. But I came here today to win your hand, because I love you, and have done so for years. I promise, I desire no one but you, Lady Minerva Malbury. Will you please agree to do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Minerva discarded the queen she’d been toying with and sat back in her chair. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “What if Madame Rose wished to make the occasional appearance?” She tilted her head and wrapped a stray curl about her finger.
He pictured waking up next to those silky blonde tresses every morn. A flare of desire replaced the mischievous twinkle in Minerva’s gaze. The minx was fully aware he’d grant her whatever it was she wished in return for her promise to marry him.
“I would not be opposed to attending a performance by the mysterious Madame Rose, should she deign to make an appearance.”
“And would you be disappointed if she were to retire?”
“The choice is entirely hers.” He inched closer to whisper, “Marry me, Minerva.”
Extending her arm, she placed her finger on the top of her king and slowly tipped it over. “Anthony Joseph Edmund MacMillian, you win.”
