Page 50 of Her Beast of a Duke
In that way, he offered himself up while giving her the chance to see as much of him as she dared.
“Yes,” she agreed quickly enough to assure him that he had just presented her with somethinggood.
Secretly, Oscar knew he would win. He did not have to worry, for he was good enough at chess that he would surely lose no more than two or three items of clothing. Depending on her choices, he might not be too bare.
He grinned at her wickedly as they both hovered their hands over their pieces. Her own was just as impish.
“Do prepare yourself to lose, husband,” Isabella purred.
“Likewise,wife.”
Her lashes fluttered at the growl in his voice.
And then their game began. He gestured for Isabella to take her turn first. She did, moving her pawn with deliberate thought. He was not a fool enough to think that she was battling difficulty in the game. Shewantedhim to underestimate her; he knew that, but he only watched her amusedly.
“Trouble, Duchess?” he went along with her ploy.
“Not at all,” she breathed. “None whatsoever.”
She settled on a space, lifting her gaze to him. He was struck by the sheer arrogance in her eyes.
Quickly, he moved his first pawn to begin ascending onto hers. They went back and forth like that for a few turns, none of them catching the other yet.
“I thought you were adept at this,” Oscar laughed, looking at her.
But as he did, Isabella moved and snatched up one of his pieces.
“I am,” she said smugly. “Take off your tailcoat.”
Oscar blanched. “I will take off a boot.”
“I recall you saying it was my choice.” Her eyes met his. “Are you afraid of your own challenge,Your Grace?”
Oh, the mockery of his title being used in such a way had his stomach flooding with warmth. Gritting his teeth, he slowly took off his tailcoat, daring himself to see if she watched him do so. He was not disappointed at the loosening of her breath or the lowering of her eyes to the way his dark shirt clung to his biceps.
“Yes,Your Grace?” he asked in that same mocking tone.
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
“Just like that day in the grove,” he muttered under his breath, but he was already moving a pawn to overtake hers, stealing the piece. His eyes locked on hers. “Well?”
It was a question, an assurance that she would not be kissing him against her will, but Isabella was already leaning over to him. It was chaste, a mere thing, nothing at all like the passionate kiss they had shared in the drawing room.
Still, it had something stirring in him. When Isabella sat back, her face was pink. She lowered her head to continue the game. Soon, she had two more pieces of his taken, and Oscar wasallowed to removebothboots, in lieu of only one, and then she lifted her chin as, on her next win, she declared, “Your cravat.”
“I see,” he murmured, unable to fight his pleased smile as he tore off the fabric around his collar.
While he was at it, he unfastened the top of his shirt, knowing the start of his scars would remain hidden. Isabella’s eyes still fell to his exposed throat.
Oscar fought to compose his own breathing in turn. It seemed his wife was a more worthy opponent than he had anticipated. To his own surprise, Oscar’s hand shook slightly as he found a move that would allow him to take another piece.
“I believe this garners me a longer kiss,” he teased. “Simply for being an excellent player.”
This time, when Isabella leaned over the chessboard, he met her halfway and caught her mouth against his. She didn’t pull away after a brief second, and he held her there with a loose hand on her cheek before letting her go. She tasted like the chocolates she had brought in, the fruity wine she must have continued sipping on, yet she was not intoxicated, much like him.
He could see the clarity in her eyes, and that assured him.
They continued playing until all their pawns were either safely away from capture or taken. This time, his bishop was at stake, and to his surprise, Isabella figured out, with a couple ofmoves, how to steal it. Triumph bloomed on her features as she instructed him to remove another element of clothing.
