The earl sat back in his chair, chewing on a roasted chestnut, and looked at her. They had spent the afternoon aboard her sailboat, and the trout they had enjoyed for dinner were Cassie’s catch. It had brought a mischievous smile to her lips that he had caught but one small trout, a fish unworthy of the great earl’s dinner, and she had teased him. Although she was still too thin, the outing had added color to her cheeks. And her eyes were sparkling at him more frequently, the haunted look they had worn slowly fading. Her nightmare had come to her but once in the last week, and although she had trembled violently in his arms, her fear had not held her long in its sway. He watched her savor a final slice of orange and sit back in her chair with a contented sigh.
“If you will wipe your hands, Cassandra,” he said, “I will let you try your skill against mine in another pastime besides fishing.”
She looked up, quirking an arched brow at him. She cleaned the sticky orange from her fingers as she spoke. “Another joust, my lord? Surely you have no desire to be brought low twice in one day.”
“The lady grows cocky. We shall soon see if your luck is still with you.”
“Luck, ha! Come, my lord, what have you in mind?”
He tossed his napkin on the table. “If you would join me upstairs, madam, you shall see.” He helped her rise, careful of her still bruised ribs, and escorted her to their bedchamber.
A small fire he had had prepared burned in the grate, casting wispy shadows on the white stucco walls. The earl helped Cassie into a chair before the fire and handed her a soft wool shawl, already warmed by the flames.
“You make me feel like an old invalid, decrepit and useless.”
“At least you are a warm old invalid,” he said lightly. “Now, Cassandra, close your eyes, and promise me that you’ll not look.”
“I promise,” she said, a sparkle of excitement in her voice.
He placed a long wooden box in her hands. Before she opened her eyes, she ran her fingers lightly over the intricate carving and gently caressed the cool marble inlay. He remembered her suddenly as a child, trembling with excitement as her small fingers tried to rip open a gift he had brought her from Turkey—tiny bronze bells strung together on a gold chain. He had laughingly told her to enjoy her present before demolishing it.
“Oh!”
He grinned at the stunned look on her face.
Cassie closed her fingers about an ivory knight and slowly drew it from its bed of purple velvet. “It is identical,” she breathed. The cool feel of the ivory chess pieces brought a catch to her throat. “It is just like the chess set you gave me for my fourteenth birthday.”
“Yes, the same craftsman made it for you. I wished to see if you ever managed to gain any skill in the game.”
She remembered his long ago having patiently shown her the opening position and the lawful moves of the pieces. “It is most kind of you, my lord,” she said finally.
“Anthony.”
“Yes—Anthony.”
His fingers touched hers for an instant as he took the knight from her and set it upon the chess board. “It has been a long time since I’ve had an opponent worthy of my attention. Let us see if you play chess as well as you catch trout.”
She gave him a slow, wide smile. “Prepare yourself, my lord, to be destroyed.”
She moved her white king’s pawn forward two spaces, and he quickly moved the black pawn to face it. He glanced at her as the game progressed, pleased to see her lips pursed in concentration, and her eyes bright with burgeoning strategies. He was pleasantly surprised at her skill. He toyed briefly with the idea of letting her beat him, and dismissed it. She would guess, and he imagined that such a victory would bring her no pleasure.
“Beware my black bishop, Cassandra.”
She frowned and saw that her queen, if not moved to safety, would be pinned to her king. She quickly interposed her queen’s bishop and sat back with a satisfied smile. “And you, my lord, should beware my rook.”