Forbidden Warrior (Midsummer Knights)

He sat back. “Is it working?”

“No.”

And then…oh yes, that was a smile.

She cleared her throat. “And what do you do with yourself now, now that you are banished from your enchanted forest?”

“I hunt people down. For a fee.”

Her jaw fell. He moved his queen forward, unaffected by the conversation. But then, none of this was a surprise to him.

“Perhaps we should not speak of Ireland,” she suggested weakly.

Move completed, he sat back. “You brought it up.”

“Yes, well, I have learned my lesson,” she said a trifle breathlessly as she bent to the board.

For long moments they played in silence, which she now found rather restful. But then, conversation had never been combat before.

Outside, campfires burned. Conversations ebbed and flowed as more fires flared up. A couple walked past, the black silhouette of their shadows cast against the walls of the tent. A willowy figure whispered and giggled, pressed against the side of a sturdier dark figure whose low, murmured reply was lost as they hurried past.

“You are quite good, my lady,” he conceded.

“This, I know.”

He slid his gaze up, a level regard from a downturned face. “You're not shy, are you?”

“I have never been trained to be shy, nor had a reason to be.”

“Nay, being rich is to be given a right to be bold, ’tis true.”

Well, he could not have been more wrong about “rich,” but for a woman, “bold” fit. She was unashamed of this.

“Some call it spoiled,” he added, his fingers closing around one of his pawns.

“Ha. You mean you call it that.”

“I hardly think of you enough to call you anything at all, my lady.”

She folded her arms over her chest and peered at him, as he was now peering at her, returning level gaze for level gaze. She was missing only the faint, mocking half-smile that inhabited his handsome mouth.

One did not like to be mocked by a mouth.

“That is a lie,” she announced.

It offered some satisfaction to see his look of insouciant confidence falter.

“I am all you think of, Lord Rogue. I am the center of your life just now. Think of all the things you have done and sacrificed, to place me here, in your tent, right now. Check,” she added with a smile, and slid her rook forward to land two makeshift squares away from his now-exposed king. She looked up triumphantly.

Her swift glance was rewarded by the sight of surprise on his impassive features. Quickly his eyes turned unreadable again. He looked down at the board.

“I see your point,” he murmured, rubbing his chin.

“Yes, I thought you would,” she murmured, feeling quite accomplished.

They both bent back to the table.

“I believe you have more than heard of chess, Irishman,” she murmured as he cornered, then captured, one of her knights.