Page 5 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“Finished with me so soon?” he taunted.

She glanced sidelong toward the tables, then up at him, and smiled.

“Mayhap a game instead?”

He jutted his chin. “Are ye challenging me to a match, lass?”

She studied him. “Or ye can go on with yer night, if ye nay think ye can win?”

He resisted another rare quirk of the lips. Barely.

Her kissable smile erupted again. He liked the smile. Liked that one was directed at him for a change.

“Fair warning, I always win—by any means necessary.” He chewed that grin in his cheek to keep it subdued.

“Well. I always make my opponent earn it.”

“Do ye trifle with me, lass?” An angel taunting the Demon of the Seas.

“Mayhap.”

“How good are ye?”

“Quite good.” Her finger tapped her lips. Lucky finger.

He wanted another breath of lavender, and leaned down to her ear. “Show me.”

Shivers erupted up her forearms, where her trumpeted sleeves were tied. No ring upon her finger bonded her to a husband. And his main mast was thickening in heavy throbs, drawing all good sense from his head and flooding his body with lust he’d been unable to rally with the wench. He shouldn’t touch this woman.

She led them to an open table secluded in shadows and slipped onto a bench. A chessboard sat unused. His brow pleated behind his mask. “Do ye ken how to play?”

She pulled it to the center and began straightening the pieces, arching a brow at him coyly. “Do ye?”

A hint of vixen lurked beneath her mask, and at her taunting, a grin tugged at his lips again. This might actually be diverting.

“Stay here.”

He stalked back to the tavern tent and bought a decanter of wine, returning moments later to see her taking a pawn with her bishop in a game she’d started with herself while he’d been gone. Looking around, searching, she worried that bonny lip between her teeth as Laird Rose’s men patrolled from the rooftop of Kilravock Castle.

She moved another piece as he came upon her.

“Nay move there, lest ye sacrifice yer queen to the white knight,” Tormund said.

Her head whipped up. And he swore he saw an increment of relief relax her. Did it mean she felt safe with him? No one felt safe with him.

“But that’s the point,” she replied, and plucked up the knight, swiping her queen. “Sometimes the queen must be sacrificed so the enemy can corner the king.” She slid the black bishop diagonally, blocking the sole path to the king. Her eyes lifted to him. “A feint and then a strike. Checkmate.”

He’d need to keep his eye on her. She was sweet, aye, but smart, too.

“Try to checkmate me, then,” he said and slid onto the opposite bench.

The most beautiful grin stretched her lips wide. “Why would I need to try?”

A rusty laugh rumbled up his throat. He was surprised dust didn’t cough up with it.

Her eyes widened upon him and she touched the side of his mouth before yanking her hand away, embarrassed. “Y-ye have a beautiful smile.”

A strange burn heated his neck. My beautiful garçons… He cleared his throat roughly and pummeled away an unwanted memory, uncorking the wine decanter with his teeth and proceeding to take a swig.