Page 18 of Love Is A Draw
She made to move, and he willed her not to turn away. Her gaze lifted—and their eyes met.
She stopped. So did the world. Victor felt it in his chest like a blow.
He smiled. Couldn’t help it. Not a showman’s smile. Not one of his usual, strategic grins, but a flicker. Small. Real.
She curtsied. He nodded. Her name hovered between them, unspoken but known.
He wanted to speak. But the words sat heavy on his tongue. The garden blurred again into sound and color—but Gail didn’t.
She was still watching him. And the way she looked—wide-eyed, uncertain, breathtakingly brave—made him seem like a man he might someday believe he could be.
He wouldn’t move. Not yet. He wouldn’t break the moment. He’d already ruined enough things by speaking too soon.
Let her go, if she must.
But if she stayed?
He would never step away again.
CHAPTER 8
Gail’s slippers crunched softly against the gravel, each step across the gardens echoing her tension as she trailed her fingertips along the edge of her blue muslin dress as she came to stand before him. Victor sat rigid on a low wooden bench beneath the sprawling oak, hair gently tousled by the breeze. A chessboard lay on the grass before him, mid-battle. His fingers hovered over a knight, hesitating; he was waiting for someone.
Gail stepped closer, curiosity pulling her forward. “I don’t believe I’ve seen that strategy before.” She folded her hands before her.
“Good afternoon, to you, too.” His eyes glinted with fresh warmth. “You’ve caught me at a disadvantage.”
“Have I?” Gail tipped her chin, studying him with a mock-serious expression. “You seem to be winning.”
“Or losing,” he countered with a flick of his brow. “Though at present, I’m not doing either. That would lack challenge in a match against myself.”
Her lips quirked as her attention drifted to the open book at his side, the pages filled with column after column of tidy code-like markings.
“What is this?” She leaned in before he could answer, inhaling the subtle spice of his scent. Her brows furrowed.Russian chess notation.She’d recognize it anywhere, the kind she grew up with under Grandfather’s instruction. She taught Maia the algebraic style, a different system, which essentially conveyed the same information.
Victor gave her a crooked but seemingly genuine smile that sent a peculiar warmth climbing her spine. Her gaze dropped to the positioning of the pieces on the board.
Within moments, her lips pressed into a line. “Wrong,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“Pardon?” Surprise flickered in his dark eyes.
“You’ve gotten it all wrong.” She leaned forward and reached for the board without hesitation, moving a bishop to a new position. “There. Black gives check.” She adjusted her gloves, a quick, precise motion. “And in the same move, black threatens the queen in a discovered attack. Now you win her.”
Victor’s gaze lingered on the board for what seemed like an eternity. Then he found her gaze waiting, his expression unreadable at first. The corners of his mouth finally crooked into something maddeningly confident. “I wasn’t playing for black. I was studying white’s defenses.”
The way he smiled then, slightly lopsided and entirely disarming, caused something to stir in Gail’s chest. A small, unexpected thrill rippled through her.
He was good.
Gail batted her lashes quickly, directing her attention to a family strolling past with an excitable little girl, and adjusted the ribbon of her bonnet with fingers that, strangely, felt unsteady. What was wrong with her? She prided herself on composure. And yet here she was, blushing for no reason she could fathom.
A sharp crack echoed in the distance—a gunshot. Gail flinched, hands freezing mid-movement as a flock of birds burst from a nearby tree, their frantic wings cutting through the air.
Victor stood to face her and his hand covered hers, warm and steady. “It’s nothing, just the balloon spectacle,” he said softly, grounding her. “You’re safe.”
The warm hum of conversation from the crowd enveloped them, softened by the gentle lilt of distant music. Gail couldn’t tear her eyes away from the balloons drifting higher, their colors striking against the endless sky.
“Gail.” His voice broke the stillness, lilting with curiosity and framed with a hint of a challenge. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in that maddeningly self-assured way. “If I asked you, would you take a balloon ride with me?”
