Page 73 of Lord of Temptation
“But they were still there,” she insisted. “Were you going to be a gentleman of leisure? A clergyman—”
“One must believe in God to serve his parishioners.”
Her brow furrowed deeply, until he wanted to reach across and smooth it out. “How can you not? With the wonders you’ve seen—”
“Changing your question, Princess?”
She snapped her mouth closed in a mulish expression. “No.”
It had been a long time, a very long time since he’d thought about his youth. As a rule he never let his thoughts drift farther back than the night they ran away. He stretched out on his side and rose up on an elbow to give himself time to arrange his memories. What had he planned? By fourteen, surely he had some inkling as to what he would do.
“You’ve chastised me before for discussing finances, but our estate provides a very nice income. Part of the reason Uncle no doubt wanted it. I would have had an allowance. I suppose I would have been a good deal like your brothers: drinking, gambling, seeking out the ladies.” He shrugged. “Much as I do now. Only now I have my own coins to toss about. And I would probably dismiss anyone who was not like me.”
Would he look at Mouse and see a cripple, instead of the potential for what he might be? Would he look at Peterson and see a lumbering hulk instead of a man who would protect his back at any cost? Would he see only Jenkin’s surliness and not a man who was hiding secrets, much as he once had?
“My brothers do have a rather narrow view of the world, don’t they?” She arched a brow. “That wasn’t a question, it was merely rhetorical. But I can’t see you being like them.”
Neither could he. He knocked over her bishop. “Take off your left shoe.”
He didn’t like where the questions were going. He didn’t want her to pry into his soul, his past, his regrets. He didn’t want to consider what he might have missed out on, what he might have gained.
Doing as he bid, she tossed the shoe at him. He caught it easily, studied it, concentrated on what he knew from holding her feet in the palms of his hands. He wanted them there now instead of the distance of this board between them. “You have such small feet. However do you walk on them?”
“You took only one piece, Captain.”
“Is that who I am tonight?” he asked. “The captain?”
She scrutinized him. “Aren’t the captain and Lord Tristan one in the same?”
No, he was comfortable as the captain. Knew his place, his role, his destinations. He had goals, dreams for what he would accomplish. Lord Tristan—it was as though he no longer existed.
He’d attended a ball for the sole purpose of dancing with one lady. Did gentlemen go because they wanted to be there? She made a move, he took a pawn. “Do your brothers enjoy attending balls?”
“I’m not certain they enjoy them so much as tolerate them.” As though understanding what he was truly asking, she added, “Chetwyn seems to enjoy them but then he’s hunting for a wife.”
“Will he make a good husband?”
She hesitated, and he knew she was trying to decide whether to stick to their rules of one question per piece, but then she said, “Yes, I believe he will.”
She boldly moved out her queen. He ignored it for a pawn. That was the piece’s purpose after all. To provide fodder, distraction, sacrifice. “Why?”
Anne wasn’t certain what she’d expected to accomplish when she suggested this game. She knew she wasn’t ready for him to leave. Perhaps she’d hoped to learn more about the mysterious particulars that surrounded him. But his latest question flummoxed her. To compare Chetwyn to Tristan was to compare an unfolding blossom to a raging storm. In both there was beauty, power, something to be appreciated. But they were hardly the same. She had tasted a storm. Could she be content with a rose?
She cleared her throat. “He’s kind.”
Reaching across, he trailed his finger over her hand where it rested in her lap. “Many men are kind.”
“He’s generous.” Then she realized—
“I’m comfortable with him. I never have to measure my words.”
“Or your actions.”
“A lady must always measure her actions.” She balled her hand into a fist, moved it beyond his touch because she was growing warm. “I don’t always measure them with you.”
“Do you regret that?”
She hated the stupid game, the questions it was eliciting. She wished she’d never suggested it. She shook her head. “No, I would not take back a single moment but neither would I boast about it. I should hope that you wouldn’t either.”
