by Lauren Smith
It could not have been any clearer unless she’d said, “And then I’ll be free of you.”
“It would not be true to my intentions if I readily agreed to this.” He held his breath just as the waltz came to an end, but he did not let her go.
“Please,” Rosalind begged. “We can have a witness to our agreement.”
Feigning resignation, he glanced up at the ceiling. “Very well, but we need an impartial party to choose the game.”
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “I was thinking the same thing. What about your brother?” She nodded at Rafe, who as he was scanning the crowds with a bored expression. When he noticed them watching him, Ashton waved him over.
“What is it?” Rafe asked.
“Rosalind and I intend to make a friendly wager, and we need an impartial party to choose the game we play. Pick something fair, a game of skill.”
“What about chess?” Rafe suggested. “You’re not terribly good at it, nor are you that poor.”
Rosalind’s heart jumped. Rafe was helping her even more than she’d thought he could. She had to remember to act as though she was merely passable at chess.
“I suppose we could play that. I consider myself a fair player.” She focused on not fidgeting.
Ashton stared hard at her. “Very well. Chess it is. But we will discuss how to even the odds when you and I return home.”
“But—”
Ashton pressed a finger to her lips. “You do not want me to elaborate here. We’re in danger of being overheard.” He nodded discreetly at a trio of young ladies who were avidly observing them but attempting to carry on a conversation behind their fans.
“Yes, of course,” Rosalind muttered and tried to pull away from him.
He did not allow it. Instead, he captured her hand and tucked it into his arm to lead her away.
“Where are we going?” she demanded, her eyes darting around at the other guests.
“Home. I have a very important game of chess to win.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rosalind clutched her shawl tightly about her shoulders as Ashton offered to lift her down from the coach.
“Come on, darling,” he teased. “Don’t be frightened.”
“I’m not.” She held out her hand, but he stepped closer and caught her waist, lifting her down. Beyond him the lights of the house bathed the front lawn in a soft golden hue, a lovely contrast to the heavy darkness of the midnight hour.
“I’ll have a footman bring us a bottle of wine. By the looks of it, we’ll need it.” He was chuckling as he helped her up the steps. The butler opened the door for them, and Ashton took him aside to speak to him while a footman collected her shawl.
“Ready?” Ashton asked as he returned to her.
“With you I doubt I’ll ever be truly ready,” she said as Ashton led her up the grand stairs. Risking her future on a game of chess? It was madness, but it was a risk worth taking if she could free herself from Lennox’s manipulative agenda, and it was not much of a risk at that, if Rafe was to be believed.
“Wait. Why are we playing in your bedroom? Surely there’s a more suitable location.” Rosalind jerked to a halt, balking as he attempted to drag her inside.
“As chess is not my forte, I require some advantage in my favor. Please come inside and I will explain how I intend to even the odds.” Ashton pushed the door open farther and stepped back, allowing her to make the decision of whether to enter.
There was that fiery intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t turn away from, even though it frightened her. He would do her no harm, not physically, but there was something about Ashton Lennox that warned her that if she got too close, he’d burn her up all the same.
Her feet moved before she could stop them as she walked past Ashton into his bedchamber.
Please don’t let this be a mistake.
She turned to face him, giving him her most imperious look. “I’m here. Now talk, Lennox.” A silly part of her thought she could keep things businesslike between them if she used his surname. The last thing she wanted right now was to speak his given name in such an intimate environment.
“I was thinking that—”
A rap of knuckles on the open door announced a footman with a bottle of wine.
“My lord.” The footman held the bottle out to Ashton, who gripped it by the neck.
“Thank you, William. Fetch me a chessboard from the drawing room, would you?”
He closed the door and gestured for Rosalind to sit in a chair by the fire. He joined her and set the bottle of wine on the table between them.
“The terms, as I understand them, are thus. If I win, you will marry me straightaway. I’ll obtain a special license in London. If you win, I will transfer your debts to the party of your choosing and tell the banks to open your lines of credit again by the end of the week.”
Rosalind’s hands curled into fists. “If we marry, I suppose you will let me live where I choose and we need not bother each other except a few times a year for appearances?”
Ashton leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “Absolutely not. If we marry, we live together, share a bed, share a life. If there is one thing I don’t wish to be scandalous about, it is my marriage. My wife living apart from me would be a scandal. I’ve done my poor sister enough harm with my lifestyle to date. For my family’s sake, I wish this one thing not to be tainted.”
Share a life with Ashton? Strangely that thought didn’t frighten her, not as much as she thought it would. The only thing she didn’t want was a man who controlled her. She wanted a partner, not a gaoler. But how could she trust that he wouldn’t be the thing she feared most—a man just like her father?
“Ashton, you must promise me that you don’t…you won’t…” She held her words inside until they threatened to choke her.
“Won’t what?” He leaned forward. “Tell me, Rosalind. There should be no secrets between us. I want you to always feel free to talk.”
She could see the sincerity in his eyes.
“I could not survive in a marriage where I was merely a pawn to be moved about without a thought. I need you to promise me that we would be true partners in our shared life.” She prayed he would understand. He had to.
Ashton uncrossed his legs and then very slowly reached across the small table and cupped her chin.
“The only place I would dominate you would be in bed…to our mutual pleasure. In all else, you will be my equal. You have my word.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip, the sensual touch also tender as though he wished to reassure her.
Dominate her in bed? Rather than be frightened by the thought, she was entranced. It was not a threat, but a promise of ecstasy, of things she had never experienced with her first husband.
With a shaky breath, she nodded. “Then I agree to your terms.”
Ashton did not release her chin even when the footman returned with the chessboard and pieces.
“Bring it here, William.” Ashton finally let her go and tapped the table with his fingers. The young footman set the board down, and Ashton began to arrange the pieces, then paused as he made a mistake in the placement of the king and queen and fixed it. The mistake made Rosalind relax.
“Why don’t you finish setting it up? I’ll pour us some wine.” He stood and went over to his dresser, where two glasses sat next to the bottle of wine. He picked up the glasses and set them on the table beside the board. Rosalind finished placing the last few pawns on the board. As Ashton poured their drinks, the crimson liquid splashed against the glasses. The wine bouquet was sweet, with a hint of cherry and oak.
“Now, drink up. We’ve one more thing to discuss.” He sipped his wine and walked over to his bedchamber door and slid the lock into place.
“I’ve already agreed to your terms.”
He held up a hand. “This isn’t about terms—it’s about rules. It’s simple enough. To even the odds, we will play the game as follows. After each of us makes a move, whoever l
oses a piece to the other must also sacrifice an article of clothing.”
Her pulse hummed and her face flushed. “What?”
“Each of us must strip down as we lose. It will distract us both.”
“How is this an advantage for you?” she demanded. “I could have you naked in a dozen moves.”
The wicked little grin made her shiver. “That would be far more of a distraction for you, I assure you. I’m more comfortable in my skin than you know. I doubt you would be as confident in nothing but yours.” He raised the glass in salute and took another sip.
“I refuse. This is beyond inappropriate.”
“I’m afraid I must insist. Come now, Rosalind. We are behind closed doors, and everyone we know is still at the ball. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t find some satisfaction in embarrassing me by stripping me bare? Assuming you can, of course.”
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t say a word, but in her glare she accepted his challenge.
He rotated the board so the black pieces faced her. “Ready to play?”
“I prefer white,” she cut in.
“And so do I.”
Gritting her teeth she glowered at him. “Of course you do. Very well. You make the first move.”
Ashton casually flipped a pawn forward. Rosalind immediately moved her pawn to counter in the square directly opposite it. When they looked up at each other, his lips curved and he hid the rest of his smile behind his wine glass. Then he moved his knight and she moved one of hers. The next two moves brought their bishops face to face. Each move was mirrored as Rosalind waited for Ashton to leave an opening. Ashton nudged a pawn forward, and Rosalind seized her chance, using her bishop to claim it.
“I believe that means you must remove a piece of clothing.” She was smiling despite herself as she tipped her wine glass back. The subtle flavors were sweet upon her tongue. He had excellent taste in wine. Not too bitter, but a soft, velvety, full-bodied red.
“Correct. Well, Rosalind. You choose what I shall remove.” He rose from his chair and came toward her.
She stood as well, needing to feel a little taller as she faced him. Her eyes ran over his clothes. He’d removed his coat before they’d even started their game, and she didn’t want to remove his breeches. He’d been right about her being distracted by the state of his dishabille. His waistcoat, though, would be fine. She ran a fingertip down the front of the embroidered gold silk.
“This will do.”
“Then by all means.” He waved his hands at the row of pearly buttons.
He wanted her to undress him? With unsteady fingers, she plucked the row of buttons from their slits and then slid her hands underneath the silk to peel it off his body. He was warm and his enticing scent teased her as she tugged the cloth off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He cleared his throat and they both stepped back, but the tension between them was thick enough that already it muddled her thinking.
He took his seat and moved a pawn, and then she moved a bishop away from his. Another white pawn moved, and Rosalind claimed it with her own black pawn.
“Lucky me,” Ashton muttered and stood again. “Name your price, Rosalind. And the cravat counts as part of my shirt, I’m afraid.” He’d cut her off before she’d had the chance to think of something that clever.
“What about shoes and stockings?” she asked.
“Shoes and stockings together as a pair.”
“Then remove those.” She pointed at his shoes. He slipped out of his leather shoes and stockings before standing there in his bare feet. After a moment of silence, they sat and resumed the game.
He switched his rook with his queen. Then Rosalind advanced one of her knights. In the next turn they both moved their bishops, and then their pawns. With a satisfied smile, Ashton used his pawn to claim hers.
“Thank heavens for that. Now…” He crooked a finger at her.
Rosalind stood and approached him, heart pounding as he studied her.
“The dress, I think. Turn around.” The soft but firm command in his tone made her shiver, but not with dread. She turned away from him and closed her eyes as she listened to the creak of the chair as he rose up behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, making her tense.
“Relax, my dear,” he murmured. “It is only your dress.”
Chapter Fifteen
Her dress…
Rosalind suppressed a shiver as Ashton stood behind her, his warm breath fanning across her neck. Once she removed her dress, they would both be completely indecent.
Exposed.
Ashton’s hands moved to the laces of her gown, and he began to pull the threads out. His touch made her jump.
“What about my slippers?”
His lips twitched and a devilish gleam settled in his eyes. “I don’t want your slippers.”
“This is entirely unfair.”
“Steady on, darling.” His chuckle was bedroom soft and deliciously dark.
“Just take it off,” she muttered, her temper sparking.
His fingertips stroked her bare shoulders, teasing patterns over her all-too-sensitive skin.
“And ruin the delight of the moment? Not a chance.” The heat from his body enveloped her from behind, and she fought the part of her that wanted this infuriating, seductive man.
The movements of his hands were slow and methodical. The fabric gaped slightly when he’d undone all the laces. She clutched her hands at her sides as he began to pull the gown down her body until it collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of fabric.
So little was between them now. It would be so easy to toss caution and good sense to the wind and go to bed with this man. As a widow she enjoyed certain freedoms other women did not. Society permitted widows to carry on affairs discreetly, but until now she had never been tempted. If only the past between them wasn’t tainted by their struggles for power. If only her future wasn’t at stake. If only…
He lifted her by the waist and set her down away from the gown and closer to him. Her bottom rubbed against the front of his thighs, and he briefly pressed against her. A wave of heat flooded through her as she struggled for air.
She now wore only her chemise, petticoats and stays. It was exciting but all too frightening. She’d been close to naked with him before, but this was different. Not only was her future at stake, but she had willingly agreed to it. Still, she reminded herself she was the better player, and she must win.
“I believe it’s my turn.” He pushed her a few inches away, and she stumbled back to her seat on shaky legs but managed to keep her wits about her. Ashton moved his rook, and she hastily moved a bishop.
Ashton stared at the board. When he met her gaze, he slid his white pawn forward and claimed her black bishop. He’d fallen for it. In search of an easy prize, he’d left himself exposed. She used her knight to claim his queen.
“A victory to each of us. Me first.” Ashton stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The petticoats. Remove them.” Rosalind slipped out of them and let them drop onto the pile of her gown.
“Your shirt, if you please,” she countered.
Ashton tugged the white lawn shirt from his breeches, then used one finger to loosen his cravat. He pulled the neckcloth off, and then pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.
Ashton’s bare chest was…glorious. Golden, as though kissed by hours in the sun. How could a gentleman be so tan? It required him to be shirtless for lengths of time. But then, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual for him. He’d spent time working at the farmhouse alongside the villagers. That was a day she would never forget. The sight of him toiling, muscles straining, his powerful body lifting up wooden beams…
“See something that interests you?”
Damned if his eyes didn’t twinkle when he asked her that. She wanted to strangle the bloody arrogant fool. Rosalind shook her head, but the way her cheeks heated, she knew he’d see through the lie.
“My turn then.” Ashton deftly moved a white pawn and claimed a
black pawn. “Make your move, and then I shall collect another piece of your clothing.”
Rosalind tried to clear her head. After analyzing the board, she moved her king forward. No piece to claim, but she had to look to the long game.
“I believe I shall take your stays.” He waited for her to present herself to him, then unfastened her laces and let it drop to the floor. He kicked the garment away and took hold of her shoulders. The action was possessive, though not rough, and it sent waves of heat through her body and deep into her womb.
He spun her around to face him. It should have appalled her that the thought of him taking control of her body was so tempting, but it didn’t. Instead it seemed a sinful, wonderful idea, one that she had to banish lest she lose focus on the game.
“Such a lovely figure.” His husky words sent shivers through her. “Soft and yet strong in all the right places.”
Trying to regain some control, she raised her chin. “I would return the compliment, but I doubt a man would like to be called soft.”
Ashton’s lips curved as he captured one of her hands and placed it on his groin.
“Most certainly not soft, my dear.”
Swallowing, she jerked her hand free of his. “Enough. Let us finish the game.”
Sighing, Ashton resumed his seat and moved his bishop directly beside the black knight. Rosalind rushed to move her king forward. Ashton responded by sliding his knight forward, and Rosalind mimicked him.
I will win. She was close. If he played wrong, she’d have him soon.
A white knight retreated, and she advanced her king again.
“This is why chess is a game of skill.” He put his bishop diagonal to her king, but she could not take it because it was guarded on two fronts.
“Indeed.” She stared hard at the board. Something wasn’t right. The possible moves were few and none of them good. How had this happened? Did he realize he’d stumbled into such a favorable position, or had it been his plan all along? Had she been tricked?