An unbidden thought flashed over him. What if they entertained themselves differently?
No.
He was the one who called their passionate encounter a mistake.
“Why would I agree to such a waste of time?” he asked, and yet, he found himself walking toward the chair.
“You know you want to,” she purred, as she set the pieces back to their initial positions.
“All right, then,” he huffed as he sat down in front of her. He had to admit he was curious about what a game with this woman would be like.He knew better than to underestimate her, as he had with fencing.
“You are too stubborn to do nothing. A chess game would be better than wasting your breath on my aunt, who is more likely up to no good and doing something you would more likely forbid. I am certain you are accepting my invitation merely because of the challenge. But I will make it more interesting for you. For every piece lost, we must answer a personal question. The loser of the entire game must follow a command from the winner.”
“Aside from the personal questions?”
“Yes. The winner gets to tell the loser what to do, but he or she must make it clear when claiming the prize.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow as he observed her. She seemed earnest. There did not seem to be a jest hiding behind those green eyes. He knew it was a terrible idea, but he could not back down from the challenge. Perhaps if they played this game, he could finally see her for what she was. However, he had secrets he would rather keep to the grave. He had to beat her in this game as well.
“Let’s play,” he accepted, settling down more comfortably, resting his elbows on the table. “But are you certain, Miss Dawson, that fighting against someone with absolute focus is a wise idea? Especially with someone who already knows the depth of your cunning.”
“Do not be too confident, Mr. Straton. I will not let you cheat this time.”
Chapter 20
“Check,” Benedict declared, moving his bishop with determination. The piece hit the board with an audible thump, revealing how tense he was beneath his peaceful exterior.
They had been battling for nearly two hours. He could not believe he was sweating in a fight against the surprisingly adept Miss Dawson, nor could he believe that he was enjoying himself. Not simply enjoying the contest, but enjoyingher; her sharp mind, her quick calculations, the way she watched him with that infuriating confidence as if she expected him to falter. There was something invigorating about being forced to focus so completely, about matching his intellect against hers and feeling, for once, as though he was not merely enduring her presence but… seeking it.
Anastasia sighed but managed to avoid a checkmate with the next move, sacrificing another critical piece.
“You have caught my rook. Do you have a question for me?”
Her eyes were wary. There were no tricks up her sleeve when it came to this part of the bargain. She had answered some of his simple questions with candor, surprised that he was taking it easy on her. She responded in kind by asking him ridiculous questions, such as, “Why are you so buttoned-up?”
“Before I claim this rook, tell me, Miss Dawson. What is the most regrettable lie you have ever said?”
Anastasia chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, the question taking her mind off the present for a moment.
“I fear that sometimes I regret saying that I do not care what others think of me. The truth is that I want to be… respectable.”
Benedict could only nod at that. He moved his bishop, finally claiming the rook.
“Your move, and you can ask me a question,” he mumbled. She looked surprised.
“Mm,” she murmured, making her move. “If you could change anything about your past, what would it be?”
It looked as if, for a moment, she had managed to unmoor him once more during a game. He stared at the board. Then, he glanced at her, only to say, “Pass.”
“You are forfeiting, Your Grace? I find it very interesting. However, I can give you a different question,” she said. Then, she did not wait for him to protest when she asked, “If you were a man without a title, duty, or wealth, what would be the first frivolous thing you would do?”
He smiled faintly at that, and it made her heart race. “I would burn all the ledgers in my study. Now, let’s turn back to you. What is your greatest fear, Miss Dawson?”
Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise? Anxiety?
“I am terrified,” she admitted, “that one day a man will control me and make it known that his will is absolute.”
Benedict’s fingers stilled against the edge of the board. He did not interrupt. He did not scoff. He simply watched her.
