Page 42 of Baron in Check
“Would you keep a log of the moves, please?” Greg handed Hermy a folded piece of paper with neat rows and a fountain pen.
She unfolded the paper. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Do you play at all?” Sophia asked.
“Oh, I’m just here to observe and note the moves.” Hermy took a seat next to a table little bigger than the wooden chessboard set on it. “Are you going to play black?”
Greg suppressed a chuckle at Hermy’s innocent question as though she knew nothing of chess. He nodded, his determination mirrored in Hermy’s eyes and neither betrayed the unspoken words between them. They recognized the gravity of this moment—not merely a confrontation with their hosts but a stand against the prejudices that had brought them here. With every word and gesture, they would be challenging the preconceptions that sought to define them, fighting not just for their friends but also for their love and for the right to exist beyond the constraints society imposed.
List opened with the usual moves and Greg responded in a manner that would leave him several options while guarding his pieces. No equal trades, no captures in the center. Not yet.
“Have you sent out invitations for the wedding yet, Lady Ellsworth?” Sofia asked as she stood behind her husband with her arms folded over her belly as if it only served her as a tray.
“No. It’s only going to be a ceremony in the closest circle.” Hermy wrote down every move, and Greg assumed she’d be calculating the next five for either color in her mind.
He eyed List whose gaze was focused on the chess board. In this small room in his rented home, List dropped the magnanimous airs he usually displayed in public. His hands were purple, almost blue. His eyes white-rimmed and the pallor in his face had an unhealthy grey tint. Greg knew that List’s three elder brothers were high-ranking Prussian royals who’d calledhim the runt of the litter, and that Eve Pearler had once sent List the courtesy card of a physician. Something was wrong with him beyond a bad bishop move on the fourth rank.
Sofia shot burning flames of red-hot hatred toward Greg who ignored her. “Our ceremony was very small, as well.”
List had a chance to fork Greg with the white knight if he saw the opportunity. It would put his ahead in points but not necessarily in the game.
“It’s about the marriage for me, not the wedding,” Hermy said, continuing to take careful notes of the game.
“But your dress is going to be beautiful. And the lingerie with the garters is most becoming on a young bride,” Sofia said, obviously intending to distract Greg.
Every bride’s trousseau had garters, there was nothing to think about.
If the rook protects the queen, the bishop is open.
Greg continued to calculate the next moves and tried to anticipate what List would do next.
“I don’t think much of lace because I prefer the ruching of the garters in a sheer muslin. However, with the Belgian lace that Mrs. Pearler fancies, you will look like an astonishingly beautiful bride on your wedding night.”
Must not be distracted, Greg told himself.
Hermy remained still, noting the three dots that indicated Greg’s move with black would be next.
Sofia tsked, then inhaled sharply. “How absolutely charming that your dress is so light but upon wedding the Black Knight, you’ll be donning black lace in his honor.”
Greg looked up to see Hermy was bright pink. So it was true, she’d wear black lace for him on their wedding night.
Hermy circled the blank space on the paper, showing Greg that he had a turn to make.
The pent-up dreams of the last five years bubbled up in his imagination and took a new shape.
Draped in black lace, with garters and sheer stockings, he imagined Hermy astride on him, panting his name. Greg, oh Greg.
“Greg?”
She’d rub herself against his length with all her need and he wanted nothing more than to lift his hips and push deeply into her.
“Greg, it’s your turn.”
Oh yes, he’d have a turn, but first, he wanted to hear her screaming his name.
“Gregory Stone, make your move!”
Greg was startled and shook his head when he saw Hermy’s stern look, her eyes red and angry. Not at all red and hot.
