Dark to Mortal Eyes by Eric Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

circles. The two players were sequestered to a dungeonlike room.
    “You’re white.” The opponent’s words scrolled along the screen in Old English letters. “Make your move, CCD.”
    Crash-Chess-Dummy—Marsh’s user name.
    Typically, before settling on a move, Marsh liked to work out his ideas on the glass board behind him, but this was a no-brainer. He advanced his king pawn.
    Steele Knight keyed in, “Predictable, CCD. As always.”
    “Take your best shot. I’ve won the last three days in a row.”
    The robed figure rose from the dungeon table, pounded a gauntlet against his chest. “All for a reason, my friend. Today the strategy shifts.”
    “You mean you have a strategy?”
    “Aah, very funny.”
    This verbal posturing was normal, a little trash talk to raise the stakes.
    “Now,” Marsh responded, “the real fun begins.”
    He pushed forward his king’s bishop pawn … the King’s Gambit. Although business decisions required a more methodical approach, chess granted him some swashbuckling swagger. By offering a pawn for a positionaladvantage, this opening magnified the importance of each move upon the chessboard.
    Marsh jiggled the pointer on the monitor, tapped his loafers beneath the desk. Would his opponent accept the challenge? Or play strategically and safe?
    Steele Knight seized the pawn and typed, “Next, I’m coming after your queen.”

    Bzz-bzz-bzzzhhh …
    “Who is it?” Marsh snapped at the sound of the buzzer. He pushed away from the computer, head thick with tactical ideas. He punched in the key code, and the study door slid open.
    “Your food, sir.”
    “Almost forgot.” His stomach rumbled as he eyed the tray. “Thanks, Rosie.”
    “And I thought you might like to know that Mrs. Addison has returned.”
    “As I predicted.”
    “She’s packing her things.”
    “Packing?” He looked from the steaming coffee, to the computer, down into his household manager’s gaze. With squared shoulders and a grunt, he decided Steele Knight could hold his horses while he checked on his wife. One game at a time. He waved for Rosie to set down the tray, then brushed past her as he walked toward the bedroom.
    Marsh found Kara at the foot of their fourposter.
    “And where,” Marsh demanded, “are you going?”
    “You sound concerned.”
    “I’d like an explanation. I think you owe me that.”
    “Do I have to check in and out? Am I under some sort of obligation here?”
    He’d anticipated the show of independence, yet the open suitcase ignited his concern. “We’re married, Kara. Of course we have obligations.”
    “Marshall, Marshall … relax, it’s not what it seems.”
    “What is it then?”
    “Just some silly notion of mine. Thought it might be fun to take Josee to the beach house for the night. We can share some quality time that way, and it’ll free you from any expectations.”
    “Does she know about this?”
    “Not yet, but she’s traveled this far, and I’m sure we can make arrangements. Please, I don’t need your surliness to spoil our fun.” Kara held up a sundress, then opted for a burgundy, lace-sleeved affair. “You think Josee would like LeSerre? Their food is
fabulous
. Perhaps a night on the town. You think she’d enjoy something along those lines?”
    “In Yachats? Wouldn’t call that much of a nightlife.”
    “Or perhaps a stroll along the beach? A chance to catch up.”
    “Pardon me if I can’t share in the excitement, but you know how I feel about it.”
    Kara’s caramel eyes petitioned him. “Your support, darling—that’s all I’m after.”
    “Is that all Josee’s after?” Marsh moved to the bed, almost tripped over a set of cream-colored pumps. “Here we are, pulling in significant profits for the first time in years, and look who should appear. You must admit that the timing is suspicious.”
    “Nonsense.” Kara shook her head. Her expulsion of disbelief almost muted the sound of a telephone.
    “You think I’m joking? If