Eric set up his men and looked at Amanda. They had drawn their chairs close, and she felt his presence all the more keenly. “Your move,” he told her.
She brought forth a pawn. He followed suit. She moved in silence; he moved again. Her gaze fell upon his hands. His fingers were long, his nails clipped and neat. They were intriguing hands, bronzed from the sun, large, long, and tapered. The palms were not smooth but callused, as if he often engaged in manual labor.
She looked up and found that he was watching her, that it had long been her turn. She paled and foolishly moved a second pawn. He took it with his knight, and she was helpless to fight back.
“In love and war—and chess—milady, it is dangerous to forget the object of the attack for even a moment.”
“You’re giving me advice?” she said. “We have hardly begun the game. Perhaps, milord, you will find yourself on the defensive much sooner than you think.”
“I had not realized that I was on the offensive.”
“Are you playing to win?” she murmured.
He smiled, very slowly, his gaze silver and searing while he rested back in his chair. “I always do win, Lady Sterling.”
“Always?”
“Always,” he assured her nonchalantly.
She tore her eyes from his and concentrated on the game. Damien watched in silence.
They moved quickly for a few minutes. They were both on the offensive, and they both played with skill. Amanda lost a knight and a rook, but in turn she took a knight and bishop and two pawns. Soon the game began to slow down as they both took greater care with each move, trying to weigh what would come after the next immediate turn.
“Long-range planning,” Damien said lightly.
Eric’s eyes met his over Amanda’s head. “Mmm. It can take a long, long time to win a game. Hours. Days, even. Alas, I haven’t many days left.”
“Alas!” Damien sighed. “I was so looking forward to seeing your Cameron Hall.”
“Were you? Well, sir, you’ve a standing invitation. I shall be gone, and I don’t know when I shall return, but my home is your home.”
“Milord, I thank you sincerely!” Damien said.
“My pleasure.” Eric looked over the board and maneuvered his knight in a position to set Amanda into checkmate on the next turn.
She saw his move and countered it, saving her king. The rescue, however, cost her a bishop.
“Ah! Take care, milady. I am stripping away your defenses. One by one.”
“I am not beaten, milord.”
“I should hope not, milady. You would not be a worthy opponent if you did not fight until the very end.”
She was shivering again. They weren’t talking about chess, not at all. And Damien was blithely innocent to it all.
They played for an hour and had reached a stalemate when Damien drew away Eric’s attention. “I am fascinated by your books, Lord Cameron!” Damien said.
“Are you? I noticed you looking at the thesis on animal husbandry. I’ve another matching volume on botany. Would you like to borrow them?”
“Yes, I would, very much,” Damien said.
“Come then, I believe the volume is upstairs. Amanda, will you excuse us, please?”
“Of course,” she murmured quickly. Her heart was beating hard and she could not wait for them to leave the room. When they were gone, she leapt to her feet. On sudden inspiration she raced around the desk and tried the top drawer, impatiently searching through the papers there. There were bills and receipts. He had written a note to buy Mathilda’s daughter a toy for her birthday. He had a list of stores in his wine cellar. There was nothing, nothing, indicative of any treason.
She started to sink into his chair, then she paused and wrenched open a side drawer. There was a letter there, postmarked from Boston.
They were coming back down the stairs. Amanda inhaled and exhaled deeply, then stuffed the letter into one of the pockets in her skirt. Then she closed the door quickly and raced back to her chair.
