“You brought me a chessboard?” Daniel couldn’t hide his surprise at Miranda’s thoughtful gesture. She’d left the bedchamber with no promises and returned with a gift for him. “May I?”
“Of course.” She walked over and set the chessboard on top of the coverlet.
“Thank you, Miranda.” Daniel held up a pack of playing cards. “I found these in the drawer of the bedside table.”
“Oh, well …” She turned to leave. “If you’ve got those, you don’t need me. You’ve plenty of games to keep you busy.”
“As it happens, I’m heartily sick of my own company, and of solitaire.” Daniel spoke the truth, for all he’d done since Miranda had left him alone was eat, sleep, play card games, and listen to Miranda bathe. He patted the coverlet. “Shall we?”
Miranda accepted his challenge and climbed onto the bed beside him. She settled the chessboard between them. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, and her heart quickened its pace. “All right.”
Miranda glanced at the pillow in his lap. Daniel followed her gaze.
“That’s a nice thought,” he said bluntly. “But I doubt I could perform, and even if I could, I have the feeling we’d both be disappointed.”
Miranda stared at him, astonished that he’d admit such a thing. “Then I’d rather play chess.”
Daniel nodded. “Ivory or black?”
“Black,” she answered. “I should warn you, Daniel, I’m an excellent chess player.”
“Then you’re the opponent for whom I’m looking.”
Miranda’s face lit up at his challenge, but Daniel didn’t see it. He had his attention turned to the chessboard, carefully aligning the ivory pieces on the proper squares. “Ready?” Daniel looked over at her.
Miranda nodded.
He opened with his king’s pawn, then smiled at her. “Your move.”
She countered with a black pawn, and the game began.
Miranda hadn’t lied. She played an excellent game of chess, but Daniel was better. He beat her handily in a matter of minutes, but she challenged him to a rematch. He quickly and efficiently checkmated her a second time.
“You might be a gentleman and allow me to win,” Miranda protested when she lost again. “At least one game.”
“I’ve never read that in the rules of etiquette.” Daniel smiled at her move, then moved his ivory pawn into play. “Or in the rules of chess.”
“If it isn’t there, it should be,” Miranda said, advancing her pawn as they started a new game. “I don’t mind losing a game now and then,” she told him, “because that’s the only way to improve my play, but I heartily object to losing every game.”
“How will you improve your play if I let you win?” he asked, countering her move by taking her pawn en passant.
Miranda groaned. “I won’t,” she admitted. “But it will make me feel better. And it will make you feel better, too, because it’s ungentlemanly to beat a lady.”
“I agree.”
“So you’ll let me win the next game?”
“Not at all.”
“But you said …”
“I agree that it’s ungentlemanly of a man to beat a lady. Physically. I don’t agree that it’s ungentlemanly of me to win at chess.” Daniel stared at her over the chessboard as she placed another piece into a precarious position. “Who taught you to play?”
“My father.”
“You’re very good,” Daniel complimented her. “But you take too many chances.”
“In your opinion,” Miranda said, moving her knight into position. “And I find that observation ironic coming from you.”