Bishop's Pawn

by Suzanne Halliday

  “You respect her,” he heard Liam say with a touch of amazement that Roman shared.

  He laughed. “I’m afraid of her.”

  Rhiann started to giggle. “Oh wait! Let me guess. She doesn’t have time for your alpha shit. Am I right?”

  He laughed right along with her. “No she does not, and as a matter of fact she remarked earlier that my ass was moldy and therefore drew flies.”

  Shrieks of laughter came through the phone. “You bring that girl to me right away, Roman!”

  “This is a bit off-topic, isn’t it? You’re supposed to be explaining why the boy is being kept in the dark.”

  He could tell the other man had had enough.

  “The more time I spend with her, the more I understand what she’s been through. If you hated Adam Ward before you will have to find a way to hate him even more.”

  He had to pause and take a breath when an angry red haze filled his brain.

  “You had your mother Liam, but Kelly had no one. Debbie put Ward first until her dying breath. Not only that, the manipulative asshole went out of his way to separate mother and child every fucking year on Kelly’s birthday.”

  Rhi gasped. “Oh my god.”

  “There’s so much more, but you get where this is going, right? For Kelly, things like secrets and lies are deal breakers. She’s got a well-honed rant about being a pawn that’ll make your stomach gurgle.”

  “She doesn’t want to be the one to tell Matthew. I get it,” Rhiann murmured. “She’s protecting both of them from something she didn’t want. Probably still doesn’t want. Am I right?”

  Here was the hard and crunchy truth in the middle of a hoped for warm and fuzzy. He nodded at Rhiann’s take on things even though she couldn’t see him.

  “She’ll get there, you guys. But we have to give her time. And as far as the boy goes, it’s quite simple. She won’t lie to him, and she won’t pretend. If she announces there’s a surprise brother, she worries some day Matthew will wonder if she always knew. If he, just like she was, had been purposely kept in the dark. It’s not up to her to explain anything at all. Not as far as she’s concerned. You’re the one that came looking for her. This one’s on you, bro.”

  “She hates me, doesn’t she?” Liam asked.

  “She doesn’t know you. You can’t make a happy family happen because you say so. On the other side, she can’t deny that same family because it’s inconvenient.”

  “What exactly am I supposed to do here? Shit!” Liam barked. “Why the fuck do all of Adam Ward’s turd bombs fall on me?”

  And that right there was his cue to wrap up the conversation.

  “Rhi. You got this?”

  “On it. Thanks for being honest.”

  He winced. Rhiann knew there was still a nugget of honesty he wasn’t sharing. He also hoped she understood that he had to do that part in person. He owed Liam a face-to-face. It was the right thing to do.

  After Matty had fallen asleep, she crept into the adjoining room and found Roman at the desk with an open laptop and a deep frown. He looked so serious.

  Walking toward him she quietly asked, “Is something wrong?”

  He had the damn reflexes of a jungle cat, reacting so swiftly she was on his lap before her eyes had a chance to blink.

  “Nothing now that you’re here.”

  No response possible or necessary when he crushed her to him and took her mouth with a savage thoroughness that left her panting and breathless.

  “Is he asleep?”

  She nodded when her senses returned. “Out like a light.”

  Cradling her with extreme gentleness, she curled into him and sighed. He swiveled them back and forth in the desk chair.

  “Wanna watch some TV?”

  “No. The news just makes me crazy, and I don’t know what shows are good. Maybe another time, though, okay?”

  She threw in that last part because it occurred to her that maybe he wanted to turn it on and was being polite by asking. Just because she didn’t see the purpose in anesthetizing her mind with junk didn’t mean she had the right to be a bitch about it.

  His chest rose and fell on a chuckle. “You’ll get no argument from me. Didn’t you notice from my apartment pictures? No television.”

  She sat up, smiled and searched his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Mostly,” he said with a shrug. “There is a TV. A big one. But it’s behind the wood panels above the fireplace.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you see the books?” he asked with a laugh. “I’d rather have a personal library than a stack of DVDs. Although I admit, got a whole cabinet full. Mostly classic movies. Black and white stuff. My friend Cam is a serious movie buff. He turned me on to Cary Grant and guys like him.”

  “Matty nearly shit a canary when he saw your living room library. He didn’t notice the ladders, but I did. We might need to child proof your place.”

  “He’s a great kid, Kelly. Smart as fuck and my god with the grown-up vocabulary. I’m going to clear off a low shelf, and we’ll fill it with his books, okay?”

  She stated a concern and framed it as a question to see how he’d respond.

  “Bedroom decorating, promises of dog adoptions, shelves of books. So, I guess we’re living together now?”

  His answer surprised her. “Did you think I was going to let you go?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she admitted candidly. “I’ve never, well…you know.”

  A hardness came over his face, and his jaw clenched. She touched a nerve.

  “I don’t go through life defiling virgins. And as incomprehensible as it may seem, I’ve never been flat-footed by a twenty-three year old innocent before. However,” he grated bitingly, “I’m an adult and knew what I was doing. If this makes me sound like a pig, then so be it but I promise on all that’s holy that by the time I was inside you? I’d already decided that you were mine and that no one and nothing was going to take you from me.”

  She searched his face. “Been there, done that?”

  “Yes.”

  Whoa. That was some revealing shit he just shared. Losing his wife, being denied their child? And now, hearing just how determined he was from the beginning to claim her, she understood him now on an even deeper level.

  “I can’t force you to be with me, Carina.” His big, warm hand caressed her back beneath the sweater. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you. All the time and not just in bed. And not just in a sexual way.”

  “If you ever feel crowded or,” she shook her head and searched for words. “I don’t know, taken over, I guess. You’ll say something, right? I don’t want to be a burden. I can take care of Matty and me just fine.”

  His whole demeanor changed. He softened and relaxed. “Can you find it in your heart to take care of me too?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Fuck if I know,” he answered with a wide-eyed snicker. “I just don’t want to lose you. Or Matty.”

  “He’s not going to like us being together.”

  “Who?” he asked. “Matty? Are you kidding? He’s thrilled.”

  “No,” she grumbled. “Him. You know.”

  Roman swallowed his sigh before it hit the air. The raw, worried sound to her voice warned of bumpy roads ahead.

  “Are you referring to he who will never ever be called by name?

  She narrowed her eyes and made a face. “Okay fine,” she huffed. “Liam. Liam isn’t going to like that you’re doing his sister. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  His hand moved from the gentle back stroking to cupping a breast. He rolled a nipple between his fingers. She leaned slightly into his touch.

  “He knows better than to stick his nose into my private life.”

  “Did your private life ever involve a family member before?”

  “No,” he bit out. “But…”

  He got tongue-tied and zipped up the rest of his stupid word diarrhea before he made an id
iot of himself.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she laughed. “But what?”

  He sounded like Matty when he didn’t get his way. “I saw you first.”

  She gawked at him. He squirmed and instantly regretted the movement when she shifted on his lap and enflamed his cock even more.

  The gawk turned to a squint. “Is this you clowning me? I can’t tell because I think you just implied that since you licked it first, it’s now yours. Do I have this right?”

  Her voice steadily rose until she was on the edge of…something. He wasn’t sure what. It seemed like a toss-up between a fiery bitch-fit or thigh-slappingly funny hysteria.

  “So your strategy here is to plant your flag, declare yourself master of all, and that’s that?”

  “Pretty much,” he admitted. “It’s a guy thing so don’t give the details much thought.”

  “Are you serious?”

  It was way too easy to get her going. “Oh, completely,” he assured her with a straight face. “But don’t get yer’ panties twisted in a knot over it, sweet tits,” he drawled in a comical twang.”

  She reacted with incredulous affront. He almost dumped her off his lap when an explosion of laughter threatened.

  “Excuse me?”

  The biting retort, the way each syllable was lengthened to convey her outrage—he was one fucked up son-of-a-bitch because these things were music to his ears. He was an interrogator. That level of emotion most definitely implied her emotions were engaged. Hot diggity damn!

  “It’s the same for the ladies,” he continued as though this was a normal conversation. Having a tactile field day with the sweet tits he teased her about kind of killed the premise of normal but hey, who was he to quibble over details?

  “Why do women hit the head in pairs? What’s the deal with the whole damn tribe trailing after? Is there danger in the ladies’ room? These are things that mystify men, but you don’t see us convening a listening tour to figure it out.”

  She slapped her hands atop his with the sweater separating them. Okay. Yellow light. Not red and flashing. Something more along the lines of slow down, dangerous curves ahead. Or even better, slippery when wet.

  Oh, wait. Scratch that. Bad timing. And besides, he had a better plan of action for their nocturnal activities. Tonight she was getting a dose of what being taken care of really means when all the layers of daily phooey are stripped away.

  She arched a delicate brow and cocked her head. “Did it ever occur in that thick skull of yours that you’ve got this wrong?”

  Wait. Huh? Wrong? What the fuck?

  He froze and searched her eyes. He saw, wait. What?

  She was fucking laughing at him!

  “Dude,” she snorted on a hearty chuckle. “Sorry to burst your alpha bubble and all but I did the flag planting first. And if you’re laboring under the assumption that to protect your ego I’m going to pretend to be some backwoods Barbie with a bad case of the lady swoons for your sorry ass, well…” her scoff was incredibly sexy.

  All the worldly experience Roman imagined he had? Yeah. Screw that. The adorable minx turning him inside out and upside down had no time for his shit and he loved every goddamn second of her feisty push backs. Finding her was a miracle and he’d be damned to the blazing fires of hell for eternity if he let her slip through his fingers.

  “And as far as he who doesn’t know me and frankly gets no say in what I do, well, he’ll have to suck it up. I’m letting this unfold because of you Roman. Because I trust you for some insane reason. Not because I give a flying beer fart about some stranger from the big city and his bags of money.”

  Well goddamn. That was quite a compliment. Earning this little lady’s trust was a humbling feat. Oh god, seriously? Were those tears swimming in his eyes?

  She wasn’t finished shocking him. With a sweet, slow kiss she gently pushed his hands out of her sweater.

  “Um, things you should know. Part two.”

  He waited.

  “The girls are a bit tender,” she snickered with surprised awareness.

  It was time to get her moving off his lap before he took things too far and tested his composure in dangerous ways.

  “You feeling okay otherwise? I know it was tough being cooped up in the truck all day.”

  “I’m not a once-a-month whiney crybaby if that’s what you’re asking. Do I have cramps and want to punch puppies in the face? Yes. The shower helped.”

  “You smell delicious.”

  She brightened like a searchlight at the throwaway compliment. Sniffing her skin as she shoved a sleeve up her arm, Kelly giggled.

  “Almond vanilla! You like?”

  Hell yeah, he liked. Shit, she overloaded his senses morning, noon and night. He loved it all. The smells of soap and toothpaste or the fruit shit she shampooed her hair with. Even her sweat hit his senses with a sledgehammer. And the mother of all baselines? The scent of Kelly, the woman. Turned him into a drooling, knuckle-dragging, horny man beast with a hard-on that felt like a one-ton weight strapped to his groin.

  The corners of her eyes crinkled. Pushing the waterfall of soft dark curls off her shoulders, Roman contemplated his shifting priorities. She was on her way, if not there already, to being the single most precious thing in his life. He liked it when the smile reached her eyes. Seeing her happiness was immensely satisfying.

  “I like you.”

  He shook his head and gave her a scornful snicker. “I was hoping for something a bit more than just like.”

  “Well, then you’re going to have to try harder.”

  He busted out with a laugh at the same time that she launched out of his grasp and started stalking the room. “Wish I’d thought to bring a book.”

  “Hey,” he blurted out. “You want a book? I’ve got books. Come here.” He put his hand out, she took hold eagerly and followed him to the luggage rack in the corner where his big bag sat open.

  “Let’s see,” he murmured. His hands located the three books at the bottom and pulled them out one by one.

  “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.”

  She glanced at the cover. “An inquiry into values. Hmph. That’s a little too cerebral. What else ya’ got?”

  He smiled. Next, he pulled out a weary, dog-eared and beaten up paperback of Tom Sawyer.

  “Good stuff,” he told her. “This baby has been through a war and back. Friends, boyhood rebellion, superstition, fantasy. It’s a life manual.”

  He meant every word. Tom’s story embodied so much of how Roman saw his life.

  “And finally, Seinfeldia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Seinfeld? No?” he asked. “Ah, yes. Well. How can I explain a cultural phenomenon about nothing?”

  “You’re losing me,” she snorted.

  “It’s a TV show that ran from 1989 to 1998. I am a Seinfeld geek,” he admitted with a hand raised. “We watched episode after episode when I was overseas. Let me tell you, nothing prepares you for life more than long, rambling, completely sober debates about this show.”

  She handed him an unbelievable gift when she shoved him playfully with her shoulder and said, “If you’re nice and supply popcorn, maybe I’ll sit through some episodes. Just to check out what you’re talking about.”

  He totally won this round. Shoving the ratty copy of Tom Sawyer into her hands, he jerked his thumb at the sofa and said, “Pick your side, plant your butt and get comfy.”

  “Why? Where are you going?” she asked when he made for the door.

  He gave her a thorough once over and grinned like an idiot. “I’ve decided that what you need is some pampering and I’m just the man to do it.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So I’m headed to the lobby. There’s a hot beverage station for guests. Sit back, put your feet up and relax. I’ll bring you tea and rub your back while you read.”

  “Ya’ know,” she laughed. “All that sounded an awful lot like instructions.”

  He laug
hed right back. “Got a problem with that, Carina?”

  “Nope,” she said with a cocky headshake. “Not at all.”

  “Cream and sugar?” he asked with his hand on the doorknob.

  “Surprise me,” she said.

  Well alrighty then!

  Her eyes kept drifting shut, and the words swam on the page, but she was way too comfy to give in and go to bed. Not when cuddling with her hunky man while they both read turned out to be such lovely fun.

  When he returned from what should have been a simple beverage run she nearly fell over laughing.

  “What’s this?” she’d asked when he wheeled a cart into the room.

  “Well,” he confessed with a great deal of self-congratulatory aplomb, “the lady at the front desk chatted me up and next thing I knew I’d told her my wife was kind of miserable from being cooped up in a truck all day with cramps. Apparently saying cramps is some universal signal you ladies use to communicate.” He was having a jolly laugh that swept her along. “Next thing I knew she hooked me up with a thermos of hot water, tea bags of all sorts, cream, sugar, honey, lemon. Pretty much a little of everything they had. Plus, a plate of pastries—just in case the chocolate coma from earlier wasn’t enough sugar for the day.”

  She’d clapped her hands and giggled. Then, because verbal burps happen when you’re least expecting it, she declared, “I love you!”

  “Oh Jesus,” he’d laughed. “Don’t make this too easy, Carina. It’s just tea.”

  The joke was on him because she truly did love him at that moment for not rubbing her nose in what she said and for taking her motor-mouth flub in stride.

  They’d been comfortably curled on the sofa for the past hour, silently reading. Most of the time he had his hand under her sweater, pressed to her lower back and occasionally rubbing in small circles that did a lot to ease her discomfort.

  Because he seemed to have some mystical awareness of her physical needs, he’d squashed her dissent in quick order and demanded she take another analgesic. It had helped earlier, so she gave in and did what he asked.