Carolyne Cathey (9 page)

Lord Kyle laughed
and leaned closer, hope in his confident eyes.  "I swear to you by my
honor as a knight.  And I expect equal honor of your word should I win.  You
will become my leman without reservation.  You shall give me your passion
willingly."

Her veins
threatened to burst with the strength of her pulse.  "I must warn you,
Sire.  If I accept, I will win."

"Ah.  Will
you now?  Then why your hesitation, lass?"  His voice hoarse, he moved his
palm toward her.

 "The
wager.  'Tis a bargain?"

Eleanor bit her
lower lip until she feared she might draw blood.  'Twas sinful what he
suggested, what she risked.  She might lose.  Yet, the dream.  If she won . . .
Her entire body quivered as she lifted her hand from the table.

His eyes grew
dark, expectant.

Eleanor drew in
her breath.  She closed the space and placed her hand in his.  "A
bargain." 

At the touch of
flesh against flesh, heat snaked through her body.  Eleanor glanced up; her
gaze melted into his.

He wrapped his
fingers around her hand and smiled.  "A bargain."

Lightning
crackled the air.

Eleanor snatched
her hand from his grasp.  "'Tis a devil's bargain."

"Then 'twill
be quite a match.  The devil and the witch."  Lord Kyle laughed. 
"And you may have the first move, green eyes."

"
D
oes the firelight distort my
vision?"

Eleanor glanced
up at the sound of Sir Jerrod's voice as he ambled through the open doorway
into Lord Kyle's chamber.

John followed,
ewer and tankard in hand.

Lord Kyle's
friend sauntered toward her and her master, his dark eyes aglow with sarcasm. 
"You're playing chess?  'Tis rich.  Kyle removes pieces from a board
instead of clothes from your body."  He scanned the room.  Kyle, don't
tell me you haven't yet bedded the wench.  Do you grow old and decrepit?  'Tis
an embarrassment to see."

"Out,
Jerrod."

John plunked the
pitcher and tankard on the table and hurried from the chamber as if eager to
disappear before his master became aware of his presence.

Sir Jerrod
stopped beside the table, head down.  "I'm a curious fellow.  Pray tell,
why chess?"

Eleanor glanced
up at Lord Kyle in wait for him to answer.  The epitome of arrogance said
nothing, only returned her stare.

The fire sputtered
and hissed.

"Well?" 
Sir Jerrod raised his brows. 

Eleanor flicked
her tongue over her lips.  "Lord Kyle has proposed a wager, Sire." 

Sir Jerrod
nodded.  "And?"

"'Tis none
of your affair, Jerrod.  Leave us."

Sir Jerrod fixed
his inquisitive gaze on her.  "Eleanor.  Lass.  'Tis important I
know."

Lord Kyle
laughed.  "And why?"

"Because I'm
your most worthy companion, dullness drags me to the edge of boredom, and I
wait for Beth to finish her duties."

Lord Kyle cocked
his head as if surprised.

Sir Jerrod
grinned.  "Aye.  She's agreed to be my bedmate.  Now.  The wager."

"The wench
will be my leman when she loses."

Eleanor
stiffened.  "You will not best me, my lord."

Sir Jerrod pursed
his mouth.  "Ah.  I see.  And lass, what do you gain when you win?"

She hesitated,
uncertain.  How would Sir Jerrod react to the news?  How would Trystonwood
react?  The world?  An anxious sigh escaped her chest.  "I'll be his lady,
Sire."

Sir Jerrod paled
and took a step back.  "You'll what?"

Lord Kyle leapt
to his feet, his expression of ire directed at her.  "Must you always be
so despicably honest?"

Sir Jerrod
grasped Lord Kyle's arm.  "Then 'tis true?  Are you a fool?  And what,
pray tell, will you tell the king?"

The king again. 
What mysterious connection involved the royal liege and Lord Kyle?

Kyle shook off
Sir Jerrod’s hold.  "Don't be an ass, Jerrod.  She doesn't have a chance. 
'Tis only to cease her objections."

Insulted, Eleanor
placed her hands on the table.  "I have warned the presumptuous man that I
will win, Sire.  He still insists upon the wager."

"You're
besotted with the lass."

"Nay."

"Then take
Beth."  Sir Jerrod shook his head.  "Nay, not Beth.  She's mine.  But
take another.  I'm certain one wench in Trystonwood will lower herself to have
you."

"I want this
wench."

"She's
bewitched you. 
'Tis
dangerous
, Kyle."

For certain, not
acceptable.  But, dangerous?  Eleanor held her breath.

"Do you not
understand?  I'll best her!"

Did she detect a
tremble in Sir Jerrod's hands before he clasped them behind his back?

"And
Eleanor, should you, perchance, win this foolishness, what will you do as the
new lady of Trystonwood?  Sit about and eat sweetmeats all day?  Lie about and
be Kyle's sweetmeat all night?"

The impudence. 
"Nay, Sire.  I'll strive to improve the lot of Trystonwood.  But first,
I'll strive to replace Brigham, to reduce his authority."

Lord Kyle
exploded, his eyes wide with disbelief.  "You'll what?  You'll do no such
thing!"

Sir Jerrod
choked.  "Replace Brigham?  Ah.  This evening shows promise after all. 
'Twill be a sight to see.  I'll pull over this stool--"

"Out,
Jerrod!"  Lord Kyle waved his hand in dismissal toward the door.  "If
you hadn't interrupted I would have had the wench bested and bedded by
now."

Eleanor
straightened.  "Not so, my lord."

Sir Jerrod nodded
and moved to leave.  "Well, I think I hear the solar call, but before you
sink into a mad embrace, inform me of the winner.  I shall not sleep until I
hear.  'Tis most odd, but of a sudden my boredom has fled.  I await the results
with curious anticipation."  His laughter lingered after his exit.

Lord Kyle sat
again in his chair.  "You assume too much, wench.  And all of this talk is
naught but a precious delay of the certain end.  Now, play."

Aye, the game. 
Disquieted, Eleanor contemplated the chess man she held in her hand.  A pawn. 
As in her own life.  A pawn in the game of survival, moved about by others'
whims.  She rubbed her thumb over the white ivory, then set the piece on the
chosen square.

Lord Kyle didn't
hesitate.  He moved his king's knight with a flourish, then sat back in his
chair, arms crossed, and flashed a seductive smile.

In spite of her
tension, Eleanor laughed.

Lord Kyle cocked
an eyebrow.  "Why such mirth, woman?"

"Our first
moves are appropriate, don't you agree?  I had reminded myself I am like the
pawn, and then you moved your knight.  And you are one."

He nodded. 
"Well noticed."  He picked up the ewer and brimmed her cup. 
"Drink up, woman."

Eleanor smiled. 
"Do you think to get me soused, my lord?"

Lord Kyle's eyes
twinkled.  He took a deep draft of his own beverage, his throat bobbing with
each gulp, then he set down his container and refilled his tankard.  Fiery
flashes reflected in the wet suds on his mouth.

Eleanor ran her
tongue over her own mouth and wondered how the ale would taste if she licked
the amber liquid from his lips.  She flinched, startled at her thought.

Lord Kyle
grinned.  He ran the back of his hand over his mouth with a slow wipe, and
winked.

Her cheeks
flushed hot.  Flustered, she dropped her gaze to the game board.  If she didn't
concentrate, he
would
win.  And worse, she would lose.  She moved her
king's bishop, then released a nervous sigh.

Golden hair
gleamed on the back of his brawny hand as he reached for his chess piece. 

She shuddered. 
The memory of his callused palm on her inner thigh rekindled the heat of her
flesh.  His hand showed strength, his movement showed confidence.  And when he
had touched her, his fingers had shown tenderness.  She glanced up at his face
and saw that he studied her.  His perusal shot an uneasy tingle to her toes. 
Eleanor inhaled a deep breath and looked down to plan her next move.

"I'll be
gentle with you, Eleanor."

Her heart
jolted.  If he had meant to rattle her, he had succeeded.  Eleanor knew she
must fight back, to shake his control.  "As your future wife, 'tis nice to
know your intent to be gentle, Kyle."  She forced a smile to hide her
unease.  "Forgive me the use of your untitled name, but the practice will
accustom my tongue to its use for when we plight our troth."  She placed
her queen's pawn.

Lord Kyle
frowned.  "Drink your ale, woman."  He moved his hand across the
board to make his play.

Eleanor took a
sip, pleased she had given as good as she had received.  She ran her tongue
over her lower lip, then glanced up.  Her gaze merged with his, and held.  He
watched her as she licked the rest of the ale from her mouth.

His eyes shaded a
darker blue.

Eleanor lowered
her head and studied the board.  Curse him.  He had rattled her with only a look. 
She sighed to release the tension in her chest, then moved her king's knight.

Lord Kyle sat for
a moment, then reached out and shifted a rook.  "I treat my lemans well,
wench.  Have no fear."

She stiffened at
his continued attempt to unnerve her.  "You will not have any lemans after
we wed, Kyle.  And I will have no lovers other than you, my husband; have no
fear."  She placed her next piece, then sat back, defiant.

A growl rumbled
low from his chest.  "I insist you call me by my title, Eleanor, at least
until we know the outcome of this game."

"As you
wish, my lord.  But since the game will be short, a Fool's Mate, I will not
have to call you by your title for long, except for---"

"Don't say
it!"

Eleanor flinched
from his glare and pressed her back against the carvings of her chair.  The
word, "fool," died in her throat.

He leaned
forward.  "You speak true.  The game will be short.  Before long, you will
be naked beneath me."  He rolled his pawn between his fingers, breathed on
the ivory, then set the piece on a square.  "'Tis your move, woman."

Eleanor clutched
her tankard and swallowed a large gulp of ale.  Determined to appear
unflustered, she lowered her gaze to study the board, pondered her next play,
then did so.  "I want to assure you that I will make a good wife,
Kyle."

His eyes blazed
blue fire.  "My lord.  Say, my lord."  His jaw clenched.

"Aye.  My
lord.  I will make a good wife, my lord."

He scowled. 
"You might make a good wife for some beggared cottar, after I'm finished
with you, of course, but because of your stubborn defiance, sharp tongue, and
dense mind, I pity the lad."  He grabbed her pawn.

Eleanor
stiffened.  "Dense?  Then, pardon me while I best you, my lord."  She
captured his knight.

He snarled and
stared at the board.

"Besides, if
I'm so dense, Kyle, then why do you want me with such determination?"

Lord Kyle cocked
an eyebrow.  His eyes softened, then gleamed passion.  "'Tis not your mind
I want."  He winked, playing another piece.

She had asked for
that one.  Eleanor hoped she did better at chess than she did in their battle
of words; so far, he out-scored her in jibes.  She studied the chessboard, not
sure what man to play next.  Eleanor chewed on her lower lip, sighed, then made
her move.

Lord Kyle pursed
his mouth, in thought, then reached out his hand.

"My first
action after we wed will be to refurbish the keep, my lord.  I think blue
bedhangings will be a nice color for this room, don't you agree?"

Her opponent
growled and placed his queen's rook on the board with a clack. 

"I have a
particular shade of blue in mind.  I wish to match the same color of your eyes
as when you're angry . . . Kyle."

He looked up and
blazed fire.

"Aye. 
That's the blue I had in mind.  Of course, you'll have to retain your anger
until I find the exact fabric."  She smiled and batted her lashes, then
moved a pawn.

"'Twill be
easy to do with you around, wench.  Of course, I'll most likely tire of you
before long and toss you out.  I'm certain Beth will be a sweet-tempered lass
and do her best to not rile my disposition."

"She would
bore you, Kyle."

"Call me, my
lord, wench."

"Call me,
Eleanor, my lord."

He snatched her
bishop.

Eleanor gulped. 
Moisture trickled between her breasts.  He had made an excellent move. 
Concentrate. 

Sap sizzled and
hissed.  Smoke drifted in lazy circles before her eyes.

"You have a
beautiful body, lass.  I anticipate your willing submission when I explore and
fondle the fascinating ins and outs of your naked flesh."

A peculiar
heaviness settled in her womanhood.  She squirmed in her chair and planned her
next play.  Determined to ignore him, Eleanor listened to the rain pelt the
closed shutters.  She reached out her hand toward the board.

"Of course,
you might experience some pain when I first thrust past your maidenhead.  But
after then, you will feel only pleasure."

Her gaze flew up
to his.  Heat burned her face.

He smiled.

Eleanor looked
down at the pattern of black and white pieces on the sixty-four squares.  She
had lost all plan of action.  Not only did Lord Kyle claim a mastery of
distraction, he played better at chess than she had thought he would.  Sweet
heaven.  Which move?  Nervous, she placed her elbow on the table, rested her
chin on her palm, then chewed on the nail of her little finger.

"I can't
decide which I'll like my mouth upon most, wench.  Your lips?"  He
paused.  "Or your breasts?"

She bit off her
nail.  Her mouth and nipples tingled in response to his suggestive imagery. 
But she would be damned before she showed him how he rattled her with his lurid
banter, if damnation hadn't already claimed her for accepting the sinful wager
in the first place.  Dense.  He had baited her to accept the challenge and she
had taken the lure like a brainless trout.  Dense.  She reached out her hand to
make a move.

"Of course,
your buttocks will be pleasant for my mouth to explore as well."

Curse him.  Don't
look up.

"As will the
inside of your silken thighs."

Ignore him. 
Concentrate.  She reached for her knight.

"Nay, 'twill
be between your legs I'll like my mouth upon the most . . . your hidden
treasure covered by your nest of brown curls."  He paused, and so did
she.  "The same brown curls I brushed when I had my hand up your
skirts."

Eleanor's elbow
slipped and knocked her tankard off the table.  The clay smashed on the floor. 
She wished she had broken the clay over his head, instead.

Laughter erupted
from her arrogant companion.  He stood, moved to open the door and bellowed for
John to bring another ewer of ale, and yet another tankard.

Her face on fire,
Eleanor kept her gaze lowered.  She removed his rook.

Lord Kyle
groaned.  He sat down again, leaned forward, then ran his finger around the rim
of his tankard as he studied his options.