Page 58 of Wicked Rivals
She reached out and set her king next to his white bishop. She couldn’t take it, but she could use it defensively from this position. Blood began to pound in her ears, and her heart beat hard and fast against her ribs.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her panicked gaze squarely.
“I want you to remember this moment, Rosalind. The moment I won you.” His pawn captured her knight, which opened up the rook behind it, placing her under threat from all sides.
“Checkmate.”
The pieces on the board blurred. A thousand protests perched on the tip of her tongue, scrambling to get free. He had won. Fairly. There was no way she could protest. They’d set out the terms, and she had agreed. It was a matter of honor.
“You have won,” she echoed. “How? I thought chess wasn’t your game!”
“I’m sure I pale in comparison to the masters, but I do play quite well, especially when motivated.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his full lips.
She got to her feet, her anger returning, momentarily burying the shock of losing. “You cheated?”
His eyes narrowed. “In what way did I cheat? We played a well-matched, fair game. Given the stakes, it was only fair. Now stop playing the damsel in distress, Rosalind. We both know you’re above such nonsense.”
Damsel in distress?Oh, she was going to strangle him, all right.
“And you also owe me one last bit of clothing.”
“But—”
“The rules must be honored. Wouldn’t you agree?” Ashton’s smug grin made her want to slap him.Hard.
“Damn you,” she growled. New anger sparked to life inside her. He may have won, but that did not mean she had to be complacent about it.
“I’m not above tying you down to get what is owed me.”
“Tie me down?” she hissed. “I’d like to see you try, you—”
Ashton pounced, catching her wrists and pulling her toward him. He made a softtskingnoise as he tugged her to the bed and shoved her down upon the soft coverlet.
“Let me go!” Rosalind clawed at the bedding to get free, but he kept her pinned while he leaned over her to the table beside the bed. She kicked out when she heard him opening a drawer.
“These should work.” He wound something silky around her wrists, then tightened it, trapping her hands together above her head. She tried to flip onto her back and pull her arms back down, but by the time she could try, she found her wrists bound with a white silk neckcloth. Ashton stood at the side of the bed, arms folded as he watched her.
“You can sit there and behave while we have a rational discussion, or I can tie you down completely.”
The silk was not tight, but it gave her no room to free her hands. Shooting daggers at him, she replied, “I shall sit here, but if you think I’ll consent to anything else—”
“Despite your impressions of me, I am not that much of a black-hearted bastard.”
“Oh yes, your actions here are those of a perfect saint!”
“Well, I never claimed that, either.” He chuckled and knelt by the bed and picked up one of her feet.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m removing your slippers, what is owed to me. Surely you don’t plan to go to sleep in them.” He gently slid her shoes off. The heat of his palms singed her skin through her thin stockings. It felt nice. She didn’t want it to feel nice. She wanted to hate him and hate how she desired him even while he infuriated her. He set her slippers on the floor and then rose up over her, his fingers toying with the loose ends of the white silk around her wrists.
“I usually don’t bother with things like this, but on you, I find bound wrists rather intoxicating. To know I’m finally your master, at least in bed.” His lips curled in a slow, delighted smile.
“We arein bedonly in the most literal way. When I get free, I’m going to wring your bloody English neck.” She wanted to sound furious, but her blood was heating in a different way at the thought of him doing anything he wanted to her while she was bound. It sounded so wicked…and divine.
Blond hair fell into his eyes as he leaned close. “I adore your fire, my dear. I never want it to leave.” Ashton breathed slowly as he played with a loose lock of her hair.
Her eyes closed as she relished the sensual little caress. If only he hadn’t won the wager, then she could be free to say yes to him without this fear of the future.
