Page 8 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

Hmm, books piqued his interest? This hardened stranger had a penchant for literature.

“I love to read. Love flowers. When the heather blooms, I oft imagine lavender. Grandsire said the lavender fields are blanketed in purple.”

Her adversary cleared his throat. Their teasing hands had somehow meshed into a comfortable handhold. “They are.”

“Ye’ve seen them?” She moved her bishop diagonally. “Have ye ever left Scotland?”

“Nay.” He offered nothing more. Plunked his next move upon the board.

“Ye’ve never been anywhere but Scotland? I find that hard to believe.”

“Ye didna’ ask if I’d been anywhere, only if I’d ever left.”

“Ah, parsing words. So have ye been elsewhere besides Scotland?”

“My question. Nay reave my turn, angel, or I’ll begin to think ye a devil.” He waggled a chess piece at her as she had done him, a cocksure smirk dancing on his lips that likely caught every lass’s eye. She lifted her eyes heavenward in exasperation as he asked his question, and she answered, as his fingers caressing her bare ring finger were lacing into hers, and hers into his. A mindless union, but mayhap not.

She moved her bishop again. “Check. Where are ye from?” Another long pause. His eyes never left the board. “Or was that too personal”—

“The Abbey of Notre Dame des Anges Celestes. In Provence.”

Her eyes widened. “Ah-ha, so ye have left Scotland.” He imbibed another swallow, his demeanor guarded despite his teasing. This man didn’t trust easily.

His fingers tightened on hers. “I was born there.” His eyes finally rose back to hers.

“Ye’re nay from Scotland.”

“My faither was. He met my mither in France and my brother and I were reared on the continent. Until we were summoned home when I was four and ten. The monks tutored us. We traveled to Rome and Madrid to study, and ye just cheated, asking another question.”

She twisted her lips coyly. “I made a statement. Ye chose to answer it.”

He harrumphed. “Touché, lass.”

“That must have been incredible, all the places ye saw. Check.” She met his challenge and moved one of hers, too. And on her next move, took his piece. Together they worked their way around the board like a dance.

His knees rubbed hers, a now-familiar pressure, and she wondered how she’d gotten so lucky to evade James for so long that she was having this secret moment. Though this man didn’t seem frightened off, like every other suitor she’d had.

She fingered the scars on his knuckles. “These must have been painful.”

He shrugged, subdued her hand in his once more, as if to keep it from exploring. Made his next move. “Everything that makes my life worthwhile has left its mark upon me.”

A life lived by the sword. She examined her pawns on the board, when her gaze shot up to his. “Wait. Why do I nay ken yer stakes if ye win?”

She gawked at the grin that suddenly split his lips, revealing a row of straight, white teeth and that boyish divot beside his mouth that softened the granite of his jaw that she’d boldly touched. A tiny chip sat in his front tooth. Goodness, he’d nay just lived life by the sword, but he’d cut his teeth upon one, too.

“It’s because I nay told ye.”

“Then what is it?” Her breath came out ragged.

His gaze trained on her mouth. She burned beneath his heated glare. “If I win, I get a kiss.”

Chapter Three

The pawn between the lass’s fingers clattered down. Those berry lips parted.

“I nay ken how,” she whispered, then looked askance with an expression he didn’t like.

Shame.