Page 54 of Wicked Rivals
“It would not be true to my intentions if I readily agreed to this.” He held his breath just as the waltz came to an end, but he did not let her go.
“Please,” Rosalind begged. “We can have a witness to our agreement.”
Feigning resignation, he glanced up at the ceiling. “Very well, but we need an impartial party to choose the game.”
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “I was thinking the same thing. What about your brother?” She nodded at Rafe, who as he was scanning the crowds with a bored expression. When he noticed them watching him, Ashton waved him over.
“What is it?” Rafe asked.
“Rosalind and I intend to make a friendly wager, and we need an impartial party to choose the game we play. Pick something fair, a game of skill.”
“What about chess?” Rafe suggested. “You’re not terribly good at it, nor are you that poor.”
Rosalind’s heart jumped. Rafe was helping her even more than she’d thought he could. She had to remember to act as though she was merely passable at chess.
“I suppose we could play that. I consider myself a fair player.” She focused on not fidgeting.
Ashton stared hard at her. “Very well. Chess it is. But we will discuss how to even the odds when you and I return home.”
“But—”
Ashton pressed a finger to her lips. “You do not want me to elaborate here. We’re in danger of being overheard.” He nodded discreetly at a trio of young ladies who were avidly observing them but attempting to carry on a conversation behind their fans.
“Yes, of course,” Rosalind muttered and tried to pull away from him.
He did not allow it. Instead, he captured her hand and tucked it into his arm to lead her away.
“Where are we going?” she demanded, her eyes darting around at the other guests.
“Home. I have a very important game of chess to win.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rosalind clutched her shawl tightly about her shoulders as Ashton offered to lift her down from the coach.
“Come on, darling,” he teased. “Don’t be frightened.”
“I’m not.” She held out her hand, but he stepped closer and caught her waist, lifting her down. Beyond him the lights of the house bathed the front lawn in a soft golden hue, a lovely contrast to the heavy darkness of the midnight hour.
“I’ll have a footman bring us a bottle of wine. By the looks of it, we’ll need it.” He was chuckling as he helped her up the steps. The butler opened the door for them, and Ashton took him aside to speak to him while a footman collected her shawl.
“Ready?” Ashton asked as he returned to her.
“With you I doubt I’ll ever be truly ready,” she said as Ashton led her up the grand stairs. Risking her future on a game of chess? It was madness, but it was a risk worth taking if she could free herself from Lennox’s manipulative agenda, and it was not much of a risk at that, if Rafe was to be believed.
“Wait. Why are we playing in your bedroom? Surely there’s a more suitable location.” Rosalind jerked to a halt, balking as he attempted to drag her inside.
“As chess is not my forte, I require some advantage in my favor. Please come inside and I will explain how I intend to even the odds.” Ashton pushed the door open farther and stepped back, allowing her to make the decision of whether to enter.
There was that fiery intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t turn away from, even though it frightened her. He would do her no harm, not physically, but there was something about Ashton Lennox that warned her that if she got too close, he’d burn her up all the same.
Her feet moved before she could stop them as she walked past Ashton into his bedchamber.
Please don’t let this be a mistake.
She turned to face him, giving him her most imperious look. “I’m here. Now talk, Lennox.” A silly part of her thought she could keep things businesslike between them if she used his surname. The last thing she wanted right now was to speak his given name in such an intimate environment.
“I was thinking that—”
