Kiss of the Highlander
Page 91

 Karen Marie Moning

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Silvan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Why do I think I might be in for a time of it?”
“Why do I think you might be able to give as good as you get?” she countered.
“How long have you been playing?”
“All my life. You?”
“All my life. Which has been considerably longer than yours,” he said dryly as he moved a pawn with swift certainty.
Two games later—one win to Silvan, one to Gwen—they were into a more interesting variation. Normal chess was too much of a draw between them, so Gwen had proposed they play progressive chess, wherein pawns didn’t “queen” but rather increased in power with each square they advanced. In progressive chess, a pawn on the fifth rank had the power of play of a knight, on the sixth a bishop, seventh a rook, and on the eighth a queen.
When she declared checkmate, with her two queens, a bishop, and three knights, he clapped his hands and saluted her.
“And Drustan thinks you’re a bampot,” he murmured, smiling.
“He told you that?” she asked, feeling wounded. “Forget it,” she added hastily. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me this: Do you know of anyone who might wish your clan harm, Silvan?”
“None. ’Tis a peaceful land, and the Keltar know no enemies.”
“No clans who wish to conquer you?”
“Ha,” Silvan scoffed. “None that would dare try.”
“How about…um…the king?” she grasped at straws.
Silvan rolled his eyes. “Nay. James likes me. I performed magic tricks for the boy-king when last I was in Edinburgh. His council seeks no battle in our Highlands.
“Maybe Drustan angered someone’s husband?” she pried none-too-subtly.
“Drustan doesn’t tup married wenches, m’dear.”
She smiled, pleased by that bit of knowledge.
“Or maidens,” he said pointedly.
She scowled. “Can I tell you my whole story?”
“Nay.” At her wounded expression he added, “Words cost nothing, they buy nothing. Actions speak truth. You neatly trounced me at progressive chess. Were I to suspect you of aught, it wouldn’t be to think you mad but to believe you some sort of Druid yourself. Mayhap come to spy upon us—”
“First Drustan thinks I’m crazy,” Gwen interrupted glumly, “now you think I’m a spy.”
“—or, in the future, lasses are better educated. If you permit a man to finish, m’dear, you’ll see that I was merely pointing out possibilities. They are endless. Time will have out. I am interested in your heart, not your words.”
“You have no idea how nice it is to hear someone say that.”
One silvery brow rose.
“Until I met your son, Silvan, I wasn’t even certain I had a heart. Now I know I do, and that bonehead is going to marry someone he’s never even met. She’s never going to be as right for him as I am.”
“Bonehead,” he repeated, smiling faintly. His other brow rose. “You told me you didn’t wish me to make him wed you,” he said softly.
“I don’t want you to make him. I want him to want to. I’m telling you, we’re perfect for each other. He just doesn’t remember that. If my story is true,” she added archly, “I could be carrying your grandson. Have you thought of that, O wise one?”
Silvan burst out laughing. He laughed so long and loudly that Nell poked her head out, with a smile herself, to see what was going on.
When he finally stopped, he patted Gwen’s hand. “None but Drustan has ever called me that in such a tone. Irreverent you are, clever and bold. Aye, Gwen Cassidy, I’ll give him a nudge or two in your direction. I’d planned to anyway.”
Gwen tucked her bangs behind her ears and smiled at him. “Again?” she asked.
As they began resetting the pieces, Nell came out on the terrace, depositing two mugs of warm ale.
“Join us, Nell,” Silvan said. Nell glanced dubiously at Silvan, until Gwen patted the seat beside her.
For the next few hours, Gwen watched Silvan and Nell in what she was certain had become a longtime ritual: his head turned, hers wouldn’t. Her head turned, his stayed down. They managed to look at each other only if the other wasn’t looking. Not once did the older couple make direct eye contact. Somehow they were so attuned that Silvan could sense when Nell’s gaze had wandered up to watch a golden eagle soar beyond the castle, and Nell could sense when Silvan was so intent upon the game that he’d not notice her watching him.