Secrets of a Summer Night
Page 51

As Hunt continued to explain each chess piece and its uses, he pressed them into her palm one at a time. Annabelle was mesmerized by the hypnotic brushes of his hands, her senses lilting in anticipation. Her usual defenses seemed to have been pulverized like grain beneath a mill wheel. Something had happened to her, or Hunt, or perhaps to both of them, allowing them to interact with an ease that had not existed before. She did not want to invite him closer…nothing good could possibly come of it…and yet she couldn’t help but enjoy his nearness.
Hunt coaxed her into a game, waiting patiently as she considered each possible move, readily offering advice when she asked for it. His manner was so charming and playfully distracting that she almost didn’t care who won. Almost. When she slid her piece into a position that attacked not one but two of his pieces, Hunt glanced at her with an approving grin. “That’s called a pin-and-fork strategy. As I suspected, you have a natural instinct for chess.”
“Now you have no choice, other than to retreat,” Annabelle said triumphantly.
“Not yet.” He moved another piece in another area on the board, instantly threatening her queen.
Puzzling over the strategy, Annabelle realized that he had just put her in the position of having to retreat.
“That’s not fair,” she protested, and he chuckled.
Lacing her fingers together, Annabelle leaned her chin on her hands and contemplated the board. A full minute passed as she debated various strategies, but nothing seemed appropriate. “I don’t know what to do,” she finally admitted. Raising her eyes to his, she found that he was staring at her in an odd way, his gaze caressing and concerned. It unraveled her, that look, and she swallowed hard against a sensation of thick sweetness, like honey coating her throat.
“I’ve tired you,” Hunt murmured.
“No, I’m fine—”
“We’ll continue the game later. You’ll see your next move more clearly when you’ve rested.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she said, annoyed by his refusal. “Besides, neither of us will remember how the pieces are arranged.”
“I will.” Ignoring her protests, Hunt stood and moved the table aside, out of her reach. “You need a nap. Do you require some help to return upstairs, or—”
“Mr. Hunt, I’m not going back to my room,” she said stubbornly. “I’m sick of it. In fact, I would rather sleep in the hallway than—”
“All right,” Hunt murmured with a smile, resuming his seat. “Calm yourself. Far be it from me to make you do something that you don’t want to do.” He laced his fingers together and leaned back in a deceptively casual pose, his gaze narrowing on her. “Tomorrow the guests will be back at the manor in full force,” he remarked. “I suppose you’ll resume your pursuit of Kendall soon?”
“Probably,” Annabelle admitted, covering her mouth as an insistent yawn stretched her lips.
“You don’t want him,” Hunt said softly.
“Oh, yes I do.” Annabelle paused dreamily, half propping her head on her curled arm. “And…although you have been very kind to me, Mr. Hunt…I’m afraid that I can’t let that change my plans.”
He stared at her in the same relaxed but engrossed way he had regarded the chessboard. “I’m not going to change my plans, either, sweetheart.”
If Annabelle hadn’t been so tired, she would have objected to the endearment. Instead she pondered his words sleepily. His plans…“Which are to try and stop me from catching Lord Kendall,” she said.
“They go somewhat beyond that,” he replied, amusement lurking in one corner of his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m hardly going to reveal my strategy. Clearly I need every advantage I can get. The next move is yours, Miss Peyton. Just remember that I’ll be watching you.”
Annabelle knew that the warning should have alarmed her. But she was filled with overwhelming weariness, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. The soothing moisture beneath her lids eased the scratchy feeling that heralded an overpowering need to sleep. She opened her heavy eyes with infinite reluctance, and Hunt’s image blurred before her. It was too bad that they had to be adversaries, she thought wearily. She wasn’t aware that she had spoken the words aloud until he replied in a gentle tone.
“I’ve never been your adversary.”
“Then you’re my friend?” she mumbled skeptically, surrendering to the temptation to close her eyes once more. This time sleep pulled her into its welcoming embrace, so quickly that she barely had time to register the fact that Hunt had pulled the lap blanket up to her shoulders.
“No, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m not your friend…”
She napped lightly, awakening long enough to ascertain that she was alone in the private parlor, then dozing off again in the gentle sunshine. As her body relaxed into deeper slumber, she found herself in a brilliantly colored dream, in which all her senses were heightened and her body felt as buoyant as if she was floating in a warm ocean. Slowly the shapes materialized around her…
She wandered through an unfamiliar house, a glittering mansion where daylight streamed through tall windows. The rooms were empty, no guests or servants anywhere in sight. Music from some unseen source filtered through the air, a sad and unearthly melody that infused her with yearning. Walking alone, she found a spacious marble-columned room with no ceiling…it was open to the sky, lightly shaded by drifting cloud fleece overhead. The parquet floor beneath her feet was made of huge white-and-black squares that looked like a chessboard, with life-sized stone statues poised on some of the squares.