Page 41 of Better Off Wed

His frown deepened. “I suppose that could be. We’d need more light to be sure.” Suiting actions to words, he fetched a candlestick and set it on the table, and then held the book in his outstretched arm with the light between the page and his face.

Reluctant to be caught studying his features by that warm glow, she dropped her gaze to the chessboard instead. For just a moment, she imagined that what she saw were merely odd shadows, or perhaps the result of tired eyes, for it must now be very late indeed.

But no. As the candlelight flickered over the carved chess pieces, it highlighted certain details that had gone unnoticed in the dim room.

She pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle something between a gasp and a giggle. “Oh my.”

Jeremy half turned toward the sound, his eyes still on the book. “Hmm?”

“What was it you said earlier? That you were surprised Lord Thornton would take an interest in something as ordinary as, er, chess?”

“How’s that?” He glanced her way, still obviously thinking of the book. Then alarm flickered into his eyes at her expression, and he dropped his gaze to follow hers. “Oh. Dear God.”

The chessmen were extraordinarily well-endowed little fellows, the knight with a bulging codpiece and the bishop with a veritable truncheon splitting his cassock. And every pawn was nothing more or less than a perfect replica of the male member in miniature.

When at last she dragged her eyes from the board, she discovered that shock had loosened Jeremy’s grip on the book, and its pages were beginning to scorch in the candle’s flame.

“Jeremy! The book!”

He jerked his wide eyes from the chessboard to The Noble Game of Chess and snapped the volume shut with such force that the candle sputtered and nearly went out. “Do forgive me, Miss Hopkins,” he said stiffly, refusing to look down again. Marvelous color streaked across his perfect cheekbones. “Knowing Thornton’s tastes, I ought to have made a more thorough investigation before we…”

“Nonsense,” she said. “Neither of us should be surprised that Lord Thornton would have such a”—she circled one hand, searching for a fitting word—“curiosity in his possession. And I asked you to show me how the game was played, if you recall.”

“Then you are not angry with me?”

“With you?” she scoffed. “If I let myself dwell for more than a moment on the thought of Lord Thornton looking on in satisfaction while some innocent parlor maid is made to dust and polish each of these pieces, I shall be furious indeed—with him.”

He frowned and murmured in agreement, and she wondered whether there was another man in all her acquaintance who would have understood, to say nothing of shared, her righteous indignation.

“But in the absence of such thoughts,” she went on in a lighter tone, “for a game between old marrieds such as ourselves, I confess I find the whole thing rather…amusing.” She tilted her head to get a better look at a few of the pieces. “Even the queen doesn’t seem to mind.” The closest of the two female figures had her skirts hiked up almost to her waist and appeared to be pleasuring herself.

“Laura.” The scold in Jeremy’s voice was terrible, but a reluctant laugh tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Amusing, she had called it. Arousing would have been more honest. Not the chess pieces themselves, which were ridiculous, some adolescent boy’s fantasy. But the soft, dim light. The memory of Jeremy’s hand guiding hers, their heads bent together over the table. His solicitousness for her feelings. Those were the sorts of things that might make a woman’s heart—and resistance—melt.

As could the anticipation of returning to their shared bed when he declared, “That’s enough exploring for tonight.”

He extinguished the candle, then rose to gather her into his arms. They ascended the servants’ stairs in silence, their way lit by the single candle she’d carried down. She wanted to toss it aside and be free to lay her hand on his chest, to slide it over his shoulder and erase the last bit of space between them.

Oh, she did not want to want like this. To wonder like this.

Lady Sterling was quite unused to having her curiosity go unquenched.

Once in the blue bedchamber, he set her on the edge of the bed and took the candlestick from her, so that she could shed her dressing gown before lying down. Her nervous fingers fumbled with the tie. “I’ve been thinking…”

He placed the candlestick on the bedside table with a deliberate motion and said nothing. Tension radiated from him. She had felt it in his arms.

“I—I like you, Jeremy. I certainly didn’t expect to, but I—I do.”

Without turning, his head dipped in a mocking bow, the light of the candle highlighting every detail of his profile but casting his expression in shadow. “Am I now to thank you?”

“I shouldn’t expect you to, no.” She wound the end of one silk tie more tightly around her index finger. “But I did hope you might…kiss me.”

A muscle ticked along his jaw. “Did you?”

“It would lend our performance as Lord and Lady Sterling a degree of authenticity.”

“Even if no one sees?” One dark eyebrow rose in an incredulous arc.