My heart skips a beat. “That sounds tempting, but when the day comes that I do beat you, I don’t want there to be any question of your defeat.” I slide a bishop out, eyes locked on his from across the table.
“I can respect that.” A grin threatens at the corner of his lips.
Several moments sneak by as he contemplates his next move, and my mind wanders to what I saw in Mr. Bordeaux’s private quarters. My keeper’s relationship with Loren is something he’s obviously hiding, but is it because he’s protecting himself, or the manservant?
And from who? His parents?
Sebastian admitted he’s under a lot of pressure from his family to marry me, and I imagine that is also true for the other members of the Brotherhood. Is that why Mr. Bordeaux wants to win the auction?
Because he needs a wife to cover the truth?
“The wheels are spinning over there, but I highly doubt you have chess on the mind.” Liam shoots me a speculative look as he pushes another pawn forward.
“I was just wondering about your parents,” I say, sticking with part of the truth, at least. “I’ve met none of the Brotherhood’s family, other than your father when I was twelve. Do they ever come to the estate to visit?”
“Not during the first year. The new Brotherhood needs time to settle in without the influence of legacy members. I guess you might call their absence a tradition.”
“So you don’t see your parents at all?”
“Not until after the auction, but we do keep in contact via phone and email.”
“You must miss your family.” A pang shoots through my chest, and I suck in a breath and hold it for several seconds to staunch the ache threatening to creep in. “A day doesn’t pass that I don’t miss my parents.”
His expression softens, the furrow between his brows smoothing out in sympathy. “I don’t think I ever told you how sorry I am for what happened to your parents. You were so young.”
“I miss them.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Sometimes I think I see them—my mother, especially. It happens at odd times. I’ll come around a corner and think I see her sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling in her journal and sampling the baked goods the chef made for the day. Other times, I can almost imagine my father behind his desk, papers piled high in front of him.”
“They’ll always be with you, Novalee.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, and I wonder if that simple gesture of comfort and companionship go against the rules. As his warm fingers entwine with mine, I can’t bring myself to care.
If I could visit Faye or Elise, they would hug me and offer their shoulders to lean on. But they aren’t here. Liam is, and he cares enough about me to want to give comfort. If I didn’t love him before, I do now.
“Your move, my sweet girl.” Giving one last squeeze of my hand, he lets go, and my attention returns to the board.
But my heart isn’t into winning. Because he’s right—the sooner the game’s over, the sooner I can feel his mouth on mine again. Recklessly, I move my queen into the path of his castle.
Liam shakes his head. “I thought you wanted a fair game?”
“I guess I want you to kiss me more.”
His hand halts above the conquering piece, and he watches me intently, his hot gaze an ember that flares brighter than the sun. The rope of tension snaps between us. Abandoning the game, he scoots his chair back with a crook of his finger.
I round the table, and he reaches for me—or I reach for him. All I know is I’m in heaven astride his lap, knees tucked on either side of his hips as our mouths fuse. He groans into the kiss, his cock expanding between us, hard and long against the zipper of his slacks.
“When I get inside you for the first time,” he says, burying his face in my shoulder, “I’ll never want to leave.”
My core clenches, hot and snug against his cock, and I grind against him to inspire that gruff sound in the back of his throat again.
“Jesus, Novalee. We’re crossing a line here. You need to get up.”
“No.” I infuse my tone with pure defiance, tilting my hips once more, and he groans again.
“You think you can defy me because I can’t lay my hand on your ass? Is that it?”
“I want your hand on my ass.”
“You know it’s not allowed. But I can still punish you.” He yanks my hair, pulling my head back until our eyes meet. “I can cancel our next visit.”
“No!” I scramble off his lap, hurt that he’d even think to do that.
He rises with a glint of predatory glee and stalks toward me. “You think you don’t have to obey me because you belong to him for the month?”