Adam knew he was walking a path that led directly to danger, but he could not seem to alter it.
I do not want to alter it.
He set up the board, so the white pieces were before Esme, allowing her to make the first move. She put very little thought to the game, gazing languidly at the fire and then making space on the table for two goblets when Jennifer appeared with the tray.
This will not take long, Adam told himself. He could decently retire to his chamber before the wine, however fine, muddled his thinking further.
He studied the board as he took a long mouthful, surprised to find that Esme had all but backed him into a corner. His eyes widened as he considered this. Was it a deliberate strategy or an accident?
Esme was now examining a row of pearl buttons at the cuff of here sleeve.
Accident, he decided.
But he had to put down his goblet and think deeply before executing his next move.
Esme seemed hardly to notice his deliberations. She moved her knight and captured his rook with a playful smile.
“Luck is with me, this night.”
He eyed her speculatively. “A very good move, milady.”
“Esme.” She held his gaze and frowned.
“Esme.” His cheeks were warm, from the fire and the wine and the beautiful young woman sitting so close he could feel her breath as she leaned over the board.
He took a while to decide on his next move. There were many ways he might win, but he was enjoying the gameplay. No matter how much he chanted the nameCallumin his head, he could not bring himself to wind things up promptly.
Besides, Callum was a man who appreciated the complex strategies of chess. He and Adam had played many an interesting game; first at Egremont House and latterly at Kielder Castle, before Callum married Frida.
Callum was a worthy opponent, but Adam was beginning to think that Esme was almost his equal.
Still, he had espied a route to success. A sneaky one, that the lady did not notice until it was too late.
“Well done.” She clapped her hands as he toppled her King.
With his innate competitive spirit satisfied, a new thought occurred to him. Mayhap he should have allowed Esme to win? But the lady did not seem upset. Indeed, she gathered up the remaining pieces with great equanimity.
“I see I have a lot to learn from you, Adam,” she declared. “We must play again so that I can study your technique.”
Knowledge slid into him, like a knife through butter. He sat back and rubbed at the stubble on his chin.
“Did you allow me to win?”
A frown darted across her brow. “Most certainly, I did not.” She cleared her throat, positioning her chess pieces back in the box. “I am a de Neville, Adam. Winning is in our blood.”
He took another mouthful of wine and contemplated this.
“I ask again.” He folded his hands and fixed her with a firm expression. “Esme, did you allow me to win.”
This time a peal of laughter escaped her. “Only at the very end,” she admitted. “You were so pleased with your strategy; I could not bring myself to disappoint you. And it was a very clever set of moves.” She held up a finger, as if disallowing any complaint.
But Adam was sorely vexed. “Never has this happened to me before. Not even when I was a child of ten.”
Esme closed the box neatly. “Well, there is a first time for everything.”
“I cannot believe it.” He drummed his fingers on the table, tempted to demand a rematch.
Esme’s lips were working to repress a smile. “I see how this vexes you and I apologize for it. In truth, I did not suspect you would catch me out.”
