TemptedByHisKiss by Tempted By His Kiss Read Free Book Online

lively with only two, but I suspect we can manage nonetheless.”
    Swallowing a mouthful of port, he regarded her over the glass’s edge for a moment before setting it down. “Chess,” he pronounced. “As I recall, you owe me a rematch.”
    Her pink lips rounded in a circle of surprise. “Indeed, you are right. Chess it is, then, my lord.”
    “Don’t look so confident. I shall not let you off lightly tonight, since I’m on to you now.”
    She laughed. “I stand forewarned. Mayhap I should have a draught of spirits to soothe my anxious nerves.”
    “Stick with your tea, Miss Amberley. You’ll need your wits about you.”
    But he was the one who should have followed that bit of advice, finding he required every ounce of his concentration to achieve a defeat. Achieve it he did, however, sliding his queen into place to capture her king nearly two hours later. “Checkmate,” he said in a quiet voice that failed to mask his pleasure.
    “And so it is. Congratulations, your lordship.”
    He nodded and reached for his tumbler, quaffing the whiskey that had been sitting untouched at his elbow for nearly the whole of the match. “You nearly had me,” he admitted. “You’re a clever and engaging adversary.”
    “As are you,” she said, giving him a faint smile as she began straightening the board the way she had the night before. “Of course, I shall now be forced to demand another game, so that I may reclaim my victory. At this rate, we may never have that hand of cards.”
    “Chess suits me fine.”
    “We could have a match after nuncheon tomorrow.”
    He paused. “As I recall, I promised to entertain you in the evenings , not the whole of the day.”
    She hesitated, then shrugged. “As you prefer. Evenings, it is.”
    He watched as she finished arranging the board before leaning back in her chair. With her delicate hands clasped in her lap, she studied the fire.
    “Fine,” he said before he’d even fully formed his next thought. “Tomorrow after nuncheon. We could eat here if you’d like, so we don’t have to delay our play.”
    Her head came up, undisguised delight dancing in her gaze. “What an excellent notion!” she declared. “I’ll ask Cook to make us up something simple. Do you like Welsh rarebit?”
    She looked so young and pretty in that moment, a picture of carefree, guileless joy. An odd sensation formed inside his chest, an unsettling reaction that he ruthlesslypushed away. “Yes,” he said in a gruff tone. “Serve whatever you like. Now, it’s late. You should go.”
    Her gaze went to the mantel clock. “Ah yes, you are right. Well then, I shall bid you a good-night, my lord.”
    Nodding his reply, he poured himself another scotch.
     
    And so it went for the next few days, she and Lord Cade meeting for meals, conversation, games of chess—and even cards. They proved challenging opponents and surprisingly agreeable companions. The back and forth was exciting, leaving her—and apparently Lord Cade as well—eager for each new encounter.
    What shall we do today? she wondered as she sat in front of her dressing table mirror, tidying her hair in preparation for the midday meal. In spite of being house-bound, she found she didn’t mind the confinement. Lord Cade might be moody and difficult, even infuriating at times. But he was also unexpectedly generous and fair-minded, never begrudging in his praise of her talents, or dismissive of either her intellect or her opinion.
    Many men thought a woman should be pretty and biddable, and that she ought never to dare a comment on anything more complex than which trimmings to buy for her next hat, or the best accompaniments to serve with supper. Yet Lord Cade apparently felt otherwise, encouraging her to speak her mind, even when he held an opposing point of view.
    With him, she was free to say whatever she wished, their conversational forays running the gambit from art and literature to history and philosophy. They even debated politics, Meg