Gris waved his hand. “Why would you want to be like them, anyway? You are so much more interesting than any of those women.”
“I quite agree,” Ken answered, Mirabelle drawing in a sharp breath at his words. He shrugged. Perhaps it was the hangover or the searing kiss they’d shared last night or the fact that he thought he might wish to marry her. But there seemed little point in holding anything back now.
* * *
Ken’s wordsshivered down her spine, the feeling of them deliciously tantalizing. She stared at him, lost in the depth of his brown eyes, in the subtle quirk of his grin, the way his hands looked, so strong and masculine against his breeches.
“See. The man has sense, at least,” Gris said even as he harrumphed.
Mirabelle had to smile at that. How could she argue with Gris and Ken that she wasn’t better than those other ladies? But the words still rose on her tongue, bitter and harsh.
So many people would disagree. And it was those people that she had to convince.
“Why don’t we play chess?” Ken asked, his fingers brushing her hand again. Then he leaned closer. “Winner receives the next boon.”
Warmth spread through her at the idea of yet another boon. At this rate, she might be able to win an escort from him to some event…
She’d enjoy being on his arm and he’d bring her instant popularity. She gave a quick nod as they crossed the room to where a chess board was set up in the corner.
“What should we do?” Gris asked with a scowl.
“Do what you like,” Anna said as she picked up her embroidery. “I’ll stay.”
“And leave her with a man?” Gris asked, his skepticism evident.
Mirabelle looked up at the ceiling. “This isn’t the docks. A female chaperone is more than appropriate.”
Ken held out a chair for her as she sat, adjusting her skirts. He slid into the seat across from her, waving his hand over the board. “White or black?”
“White,” she said and started collecting the white players, her fingers tingling with anticipation. She had to confess that she loved competition. It was exhilarating.
And she played white whenever possible because she enjoyed making the first move, setting the tone for the game.
As they began to play, silence settling over them, she felt an initial rush. Her game was aggressive. Her moves intentional.
But it wasn’t until they’d played for a while that she realized Ken had a strategy too. He looked hapless, but the truth was he was subtly moving players into place.
He seemed harmless until his trap was laid and then, next she knew, she was losing. Badly.
Her brows lifted. “You’re going to tromp me.”
He smiled across the board. “I’m most interested in winning the next boon.”
“Why?” she asked, her brows drawing together as she leaned closer. What did he wish to claim? Another kiss? Likely, he just wanted another update on Emily.
Her pulse raced, and resting her elbows on the table, she leaned closer, chin on her folded hands. “What will you ask for?”
He cocked his head to the side before he leaned in too. “Poker lessons.”
She pressed her lips together, half disappointed and half amused. “Really?”
He nodded. “And you, should you win?”
“An escort to the next soiree…” she answered, looking down at the board. It wasn’t likely.
“I was tempted to ask for a description of your home before this one,” he said as he reached across the table and took on her hands in his.
She let him hold it, but she leaned the rest of her body back. “Why would you want that? It’s a dreadful tale that makes all of us look…”