Highland Conquest, page 14
“Aye,” he said.
“Except for the knights.” She picked up her black knight and held it out to him as if to show him the intricate carvings on it.
“In chess, if ye pick up a piece, ye must play that piece.” He had learned that rule the hard way from his father during his early years of playing, before his discipline had grown. Discipline was like a muscle. It must be worked often to bolster it, and like his strength, Cain’s discipline was unmatched. “Ye must pick it up and move it around in your mind before your fingers go near it.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward before coming back to lean slightly forward. “Only the horse heads are from the original set, aren’t they?” She ran her hand around the edge of the beautiful wooden board, which was carved with various weapons like swords, maces, and shields. “Did you become so angry at losing that you gnashed your teeth and bit the heads off all the other pieces?”
He snorted a short laugh. “Play.” He nodded to the board.
“Tell me,” she said. “What happened to all the other fine pieces?” She reached forward, catching his hand. “I would know.”
His inhale stopped at the feel of her cool fingers, and he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. It was the first time that she’d touched him voluntarily. Even in the barn, he’d been the one to reach for her hand.
She pulled her fingers back as if realizing what she’d done, but his gaze still held her. Neither of them blinked, and Cain felt as if he were falling toward her, leaning in as her soft lips moved.
“I would know the secret of the mutilated Sinclair chess pieces.”
Chapter Eleven
Cain inhaled softly as Ella sat up straight. Was she merely curious, or was she trying to gain as much knowledge about her opponent as she could? That was what he would do.
Perhaps the touch before was her way of trying to soften him into giving information away. No matter. Learning about him would not win her back her lands.
“As ye likely know, my father had an explosive temper,” Cain said, crossing his arms over his chest. “When he became angry, either from me making a poor move or one of us beating him when he was already in a fierce disposition, he would hurl pieces into the fire.”
She blinked. “Except for the horses?”
“George Sinclair would slice a man in two without thinking anything of it, but he would never harm a horse, not even a wooden one.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Did she wonder what his life had been like here at Girnigoe? If it was as loud as she was imagining with tempers flaring and pawns flying to meet with fiery ends? He glanced toward the door to the room, which stood open. “This is the quietest Girnigoe has ever been.”
“So…the clumsy pieces?”
“Were whittled by my brothers and me, some better than others.” His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Sometimes we had to use rocks for the pawns when Da was in a rage for weeks.”
“Which son inherited his temper?” she asked, and set the knight back in its place.
Cain huffed softly. “All of us and none of us, depending if we are on the battlefield. Although Joshua picks a fight more than the rest.”
“I suppose being the God of War he likes to cause fights.”
She was trying to provoke him. “Not God, messenger from God,” Cain corrected. “And I think Joshua’s warring temper as a two-year-old lad started Da thinking about raising us after the horsemen of the Bible.”
She tipped her head, and the loose waves of her long hair draped to one side. It shone like a sheet of dark silk where a stray sunbeam hit it from the windows cut up high in the cone of the tower. With half her hair pulled up on top, her delicate jaw was exposed. A curl, pulled from the design, hid the blasted brand.
“Raised you after them?” she asked.
What were they talking about?
He focused on the soft pink of her lips as she continued. “Then you do not believe that you four are actually the four horsemen from the Bible, heralding doom for the world as written in Revelations?”
Cain looked away from her, inhaling. He’d gone around and around about the terminology and philosophy with Gideon many times before. Their father was certain of their biblical origins and had raised them to believe it, too. But George Sinclair had changed so much after his wife died. It was as if she’d kept him sane, and without her guidance and tempering, he’d let his wishes become his reality.
“As far as I know, I was born from my mother, not a cloud. Although Pastor John argues that coming down from a cloud could be an interpretation of one being born from between the thighs of a woman.”
Her lips turned up into a small smile. “He really said thighs of a woman?”
Cain nodded. “The image of our mother’s inner thighs made Gideon gag.”
Her smile remained. It was authentic, like the one he’d seen when she’d hugged her horse or nuzzled the kitten. Her gaze moved to meet his, her features still soft. His chest opened, and he took in a full breath. He’d won another smile from her, but it was a type of win that didn’t necessarily translate to giving him anything; yet it had. He felt…lighter.
How joyful would she be if she won the chess game? The thought surfaced through the layers of his determination to win at all costs. It was his armor, and he frowned as if recognizing a chink in it. Of course he couldn’t let her win or else he’d have to give up Dunrobin and the surrounding land. He cleared his throat. “Your turn, lass.”
She picked up the horse that she had returned to the board, setting it down safely, but his rook took the pawn that was protecting it. At this rate, he would win in three moves. She moved her knight out of the rook’s way, but risked it being taken by his queen. If he’d been playing his da, he would’ve taken it, but instead he moved his bishop to threaten her knight.
She swore softly and lifted the horse again, letting it hover before setting it back down. She moved a pawn instead. “I did not damage the outside of your knight.”
“If ye had, I would have had to replace it with a lump with horsehair tied to it,” he said, keeping his voice light.
“You were so…” She rubbed her lips together as if trying to find the right words. “Cold and unmoving the other day, different from helping birth the foal,” she said, her eyes down on the board. “Like how my father would care for a horse all night when it was ill and then turn around the next morning and…slap me for bringing his porridge cold.”
Cain’s hand fisted where it sat on the table. He breathed slowly. “Ella, I would never mistreat ye the way your father did. It is my responsibility to present the strength of Clan Sinclair to all. A man’s strength can come across as uncaring when actually I strategize my every move in order to protect my people.”
She lifted her eyes to him. “I think all chiefs have two sides to them. One they use before people and one controlled by their hearts.” She paused as if taking his measure. “Which man are you? The gentle man who would cradle a newborn foal or the cold killer who will take over a clan or murder thousands trying?”
“In the barn,” he said softly. “I still told ye I would take Dunrobin and yer lands. I am the same man as I was then.”
“Your heart is made to crave conquest and conquering only,” she said. “Whether it be over a clan or a woman.” Ella set the knight down slowly, knowing his bishop had a straight diagonal line to it. Without a pawn to then take his bishop, it was a clean defeat, and he took the beautifully carved black horse to his growing circle of won pieces.
“There is no shame in losing to me,” he said, not sure how to respond to her comment. He’d always been praised for focusing on conquest. However, he’d never had a conversation with someone he had conquered before.
She moved her own bishop forward to a protected space and tipped her head. The gentle slope of her neck made his pulse thrum faster. One day he would slide his lips along it and make her shudder with passion.
“What happens if you lose some day?” she asked. “Will you shatter into a million pieces? Impale yourself on your sword for failing? Seek self-exile in shame?”
His brows lowered as he regarded her. “It is not something I contemplate, for if I fail to predict the actions of my opponent in battle, I will likely be dead.” He saw that his rook could move to a place that would easily take her bishop, but that would end the game and their conversation quickly. He slid his front pawn forward another space so she could take it.
Her slender fingers tugged and swirled a curl hanging against her cheek. “Did you predict that I would send a volley of arrows toward George Sinclair?” she asked without looking up.
The guilt that sat deep in his gut tightened. “No, and my father’s death lies upon my shoulders.”
“Because you did not predict my move to use all my archers to fire at one man?” She took his pawn.
He didn’t reply but slid his rook over to threaten her bishop.
She raised her face, her gaze finding his. “People are not chess pieces. They do not always follow rules of logical strategy.” She moved her bishop forward on the diagonal, exposing her queen.
“Often they do. They can become as predictable as a piece on a chessboard.” He moved a pawn between them instead of taking her queen, giving her a chance to escape.
“Sometimes they try new, risky ideas,” she said, sliding her queen all the way across the board to stop before his pawn.
He slid his rook up even with it. “Ye know I can take your queen there,” he said.
She shrugged. “Perhaps I am willing to make sacrifices as long as my king is safe,” she said and leaned forward, staring him directly in his eyes. The notes of blue in the gray of her irises fascinated him. “And maybe I think my opponent is purposely not acting aggressively so he can extend the game.” She leaned back with her palms braced on the bed.
A small grin grew on his mouth. She had deciphered his strategy. “So,” he said, “ye have decided to lose a kiss to me.”
“Hardly.” She slid her queen back diagonally, taking the pawn that protected his knight. He would need to move the knight, or she would take it, but then another pawn would take the queen. “Perhaps my strategy is to sacrifice my queen to take your horses.”
“Ye do know the goal of the game is to take my king?”
She narrowed her eyes at him with a wry smile that told him that she knew the goal very well. He found himself moving his knight to a spot that was still vulnerable but where she’d lose her queen. She slid to the other side of the board and took one of his pawns. Two more moves and she could take his white horse with her rook.
“I will add your stallion to my herd,” she said, not acknowledging that he then took her rook. Soon only her king, one pawn, and her queen stood in the corner. As he moved closer, she took his rook with her queen, setting herself up to lose it.
“Ye are down to your lowest and highest pieces,” he said, seeing the end perfectly in his mind.
“Go ahead,” she said, but instead of taking her queen, his queen took her pawn.
She looked up at him, questions in her eyes. “I will take your queen. The most powerful piece on the board.”
He shook his head. “Ye are in check.” He nodded down to his last rook that was in line with her king at the other end of the board. “Ye have to move to defend your king or move your king. Either way, I will take it in two moves.”
She slid her queen in front of her king, and his rook took her. Her king, her only remaining piece took his rook, and his queen took her king. “Checkmate.”
He crossed his arms. “’Twas a good game. Ye must play back at Dunrobin.”
She imitated his movement. “Some.”
“With Kenneth? Ye care for him.”
“He taught me chess, along with how to shoot arrows and throw knives.”
“Is he your lover?”
She frowned. “He is three score and five years old, and I am a maid like I said.”
One could still be a maid and have a lover, even an elderly lover, but her reaction loosened the tightness in his chest. “A father, then, to make up for your own.” He watched her face pinch slightly. “For it was obvious Kenneth Macleod would certainly die for ye.”
“Yes, he would.” She tried to hide any emotion, but he saw much in the lines of her face.
Cain picked up his king, turning it in his palm. He’d been the one to try to carve it the last time his father lost his temper. “Your man has won his life with his kindness toward ye. I will order my men to spare him, if possible, if he resists our arrival at Dunrobin after we are wed.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If I had won, you wouldn’t have left us alone anyway, would you?”
“I keep my oaths,” he said. “But I never lose.”
Her steady gaze seemed to weigh his words. She rose. He followed, so that they stood across from each other over the carnage of their chess battle. She had lost all her pieces, and he had sacrificed many more than he needed to in order to spare some of her feelings.
He raised an eyebrow. “So ye will come down to eat?”
“I would not want to endanger Boo with my returning appetite,” she said.
“And the kiss?” he asked. “Ye obviously still have my da’s dagger for carving out the knight. And likely the sgian dubh that ye held to Mackay’s throat. They should give ye courage in case ye fear I would take liberties, although I am not a man who needs to take anything from a lass.”
“Except her castle, lands, and freedom.”
He crossed his arms before him. “Ella Sutherland, ye owe me a kiss, one that is not disguised as a chicken’s peck.”
She glanced around the empty room. “Right here, in my bedchamber?”
“Would ye prefer to kiss me in my bedchamber?”
She rolled her eyes, making his mouth relax almost into a grin.
“If ye are too frightened—”
“Do not try to goad me into a kiss, Sinclair,” she said. “I am not frightened of you, despite all this.” She waved her hand at his body. Perhaps she meant to point out his largeness or hardened muscles. “And a Sutherland does not go back on her oath, either, but if someone were to walk in, they would think I have caved to your…demands.”
Without turning away, he took two steps backward, his hand shutting the door to the room. “I can lock it, if ye worry.”
The slight widening of her eyes showed that she realized her move had put her further at a disadvantage, since they were now alone in a very private place. “No need,” she said and took two steps around the edge of the table, a look of resolve on her face.
“Shall I close my eyes?” he asked.
“It is quite stupid to shut your eyes to me while knowing I am armed.”
He closed them anyway. “If ye pierce my heart, my soldiers will stop ye from leaving Girnigoe, and ye certainly do not want to end up wed to Joshua. He is an irritating arse.”
There was a long pause, but he kept his eyes closed, his ears alert. Would she try to stab him there in her room? He’d be able to overpower her immediately, even if she threw the blade.
He heard something clatter on the table and opened his eyes. She slid a second dagger from her sleeve and dropped it with the first, making his chess pieces quake. “He comes from a family of arses,” she said and held up her palms. “I am unarmed, so you do not need to worry.”
“Not worried,” he said. “Just making my plans.”
She walked up before him, tipping her head back. “You even plan your kisses?”
“I plan possible attacks.” He leaned down slightly. “And I have learned that ye use kisses to trick your enemy. I will not be tricked twice.”
“No?” Her voice took on a lower tone. Her palms flattened on his chest. “Perhaps you will think this kiss means I surrender. Or that I will willingly give you Dunrobin and Sutherland lands.”
He stared into her gaze, studying her. “Actually, Ella Sutherland, ye are rather a mystery to me.” Should he have admitted as much? “But ye need to know,” he said, his brow rising in challenge, “that I win every game I play. As ye saw on the board, I have called checkmate.”
The sensation of her light touch through his tunic shot up his chest to his shoulders, and he held completely still. His gaze fell onto her lips. They were perfectly proportioned and full.
She looked up into his eyes. “Cain Sinclair,” she said and slid her hands up his chest to curve around his biceps, making his muscles contract in anticipation. “Our game is far from over.”
Chapter Twelve
Ella had held her blade in her hand for a long moment when Cain closed his eyes.
Was it true Joshua would take Cain’s place to marry her if she killed him? Must she wed Cain first and kill him in a way that made it look like someone else had snuck into the castle to slaughter the great god of Conquest? Then she would kill off each of the brothers.
God’s teeth. She needed to consider everything before carrying out Kenneth’s whispered… What? Orders, mere suggestions, demands? She wasn’t certain. In truth, Ella wasn’t sure she could follow his words with actions. She had ordered her armies to kill, but she had never done so herself, and certainly not up close, tricking someone. Making Cain believe she cared for him enough to get around his bloody excellent instincts.
Right now, though, she needed to make Cain trust her. Let him think she was yielding to his marriage request and his handsomely dangerous looks. Let him lose a bit of himself in the same heat Ella had felt when she’d kissed him in the tree.
Ella’s fingers twined behind his neck into the soft waves of his wheat-colored hair. Ye are rather a mystery to me. Let Cain be surprised by her courage and prowess even though she was a maiden. She wanted to be someone whom he could not easily predict. She wasn’t a chess piece, despite his trying to dictate her moves in their game of war.
