Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)
“As do I,” she murmured. She glanced at the display nook above his desk. “I see you still have the ivory and amber set from Russia.”
“Aye, it’s a very unusual design—not to speak of very expensive—so it will take a discerning buyer to recognize its worth.”
Olivia repressed a sigh of longing. “I hope it goes to a good home.”
“Aye.” Tyler gestured to the rear of the shop. “You’ll find a display of the other sets in the alcove behind the bookshelves. Please feel free to spend as long as you like with them.”
“Thank you.” Olivia wasn’t quite sure what had moved her to cut through the quiet side street rather than take a more direct route home from her trip to the bookstore. Perhaps, she mused, it was because last evening’s encounter with the Earl of Wrexham had reminded her of the subtle thrusts and parries that played out over the checkered board.
He was an interesting opponent—the fact that she couldn’t read his mind made a match much more challenging.
The earl is not an opponent, she reminded herself. He’s not…Her boot snagged for an instant on the uneven floorboards. He’s not anyone who ought to be distracting my thoughts.
She shifted the wrapped book in her arms as she walked down the narrow corridor. “Especially when I have an essay to finish,” she added in a chiding whisper.
That said, she decided that a quarter hour spent admiring the Persian sets would not mean the end of the world. Slipping into the cozy display space, she put her package down on one of the small tables and began to examine the different chess pieces.
The first grouping was made of Persian turquoise, with one side carved out of a soft shade of sky blue stone while the other was a deep green-gray hue. The workmanship was superb, with detailings of rich burnished gold highlighting the smoothly polished surface. She picked up the lighter Queen for a closer inspection, only half aware of the faint tinkling of brass floating down from the front of the store.
Steps followed—a masculine tread of boots over the waxed wood—then paused at the alcove displaying the playing cards.
Breathing a sigh of relief, for she wasn’t in the mood for company, Olivia returned her attention to the chess figure in her hand.
“More games, Miss Sloane?”
Silent as a stalking tiger, the earl had moved up behind her.
“Or should I say, contemplating new and exotic ways to slay your opponent?”
The sound of his voice, low and edged with a hint of humor, had the oddest effect on her insides—her stomach gave a sudden little lurch, and her heart jumped and thudded hard against her ribcage. Flummoxed by her own unaccountable reaction, she drew a steadying breath and took a fraction of a second to regain her composure before turning.
“Contrary to what you might think, Lord Wrexham, I am not a bloodthirsty creature.”
“No, but you do like to win,” he murmured.
“I don’t imagine that most people like to lose,” countered Olivia. “Do you?”
“A fair point,” replied John, though he didn’t respond to her question. After a whisper of silence, he picked up the dark turquoise knight. “This is unusual. And exquisite.”
“Mr. Tyler always has a wonderful selection of sets.” A pause, and then she couldn’t help but add, “None of the figures are stark naked, so your sensibilities won’t be shocked.”
“How fortunate,” he replied, allowing the same sliver of silence to pass. “Seeing as I left my smelling salts at home.”
Good heavens, the man did have a sense of humor. And an impish one at that.
“Do you come here often?” he asked.
Olivia shook her head. “Not anymore.” Placing the Queen back on its square, she moved to the next table. “But my father used to be a regular patron, so I’m very familiar with its offerings.”
“Ah.” Strangely enough, John followed her.
“And what brings you here, sir?” she asked, reaching abruptly for a pawn made of color-swirled Murano glass.
The earl apparently had the same impulse for their hands entangled, knocked the figure to the floor. He held her fingers for just an instant, but in the fleeting touch, Olivia was aware of a skittering of different sensations.
Calloused fingertips, strong grip, pulsing warmth.
She pulled away as if singed.